#[that's a really nice ask you got there... it would be a shame if someone... gave you a wall of text for an answer >:D] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itzpookiepooh · 2 months ago

Text

Let’s Get Married

Inspired by Let’s Get Married by Jagged Edge

Sylus adored everything about you. The way you brushed your teeth, the way you laughed, even the way you tripped over the same spot in the base that’s been there forever. He couldn’t not love you. You’ve given him every reason to love you. He loves how you love the boys, he loves how you are eventually able to get along with Mephisto.

He loves that you reassure him on his baddest days. He loves that you take care of him the same way he takes care of you. He could make an endless list of reasons he loved you but then he’d be writing even on his deathbed. You were both slow dancing to one of his many records. He was teaching you how to waltz which turned into you guys just feeling the music.

He stared down at you in admiration. You weren’t done up or in your hunters uniform but laid back and yourself. Your hair was tousled from the long day and you were in your loungewear. A soft smile makes its way onto Sylus’ lips. He was a man of extravagance that much was true but he was also for living in the moment. You take your head off his chest to look at him. You giggle at the fact he was already looking at you with those piercing red eyes.

“What?” You giggle softly, “Is there something on my face?” Sylus just chuckles before sighing.

“Marry me.” He mumbles making you both stop swaying. Did he really just ask you that? Right now?

“Are you serious?” You whisper as if the air was knocked out of you. He smiles making you clutch his hand tighter.

“I don’t joke about things like this.” He assures you, “I’ll do a grander gesture another time. This moment was too perfect to pass up.” He reassured you in case you thought he didn’t care enough to make the gesture.

“Yes.” You whimper as tears sprang to your eyes. He held you close letting the tears run down your face. This is what made life worth living.

Caleb has watched you grow into someone so brave it puts him to shame at times. He can’t help but admire everything you do. He’s always seen a future with you away from Linkon. A nice house, a dog or two, maybe even a kid. Whatever you wanted he would give you. He knew he wanted this, forever. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

You were both watching Gnomeo and Juliet, a movie you guys hadn’t watched since you were kids. Caleb wanted some nostalgia tonight like he does many other nights. You were curled into his side as you both watched the scene of Gnomeo and Juliet meeting. Caleb couldn’t help himself.

“Marry me.” He blurted out, “please.” He whispers but you just stare at him.

“Does Elton John get you in that mood or something?” You question him. What is he thinking? How does this movie make him think that?

“No I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He sighs, his nerves setting in. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to call you my wife.”

You were stunned, not shocked because you’ve seen a future with Caleb. You always have but you never knew when to bring it up to him. Your heart was pounding as you stared at him which didn’t help his nerves at all. What did you have to lose? You both wanted the same thing.

“Yes—yeah, of course.” You ramble making him laugh and pull you into a hug. He kissed your forehead twice and squeezed you tighter. You just made him the happiest man on earth.

You and Xavier were baking, well you were baking and he was passing you ingredients. His cooking got a lot better which was great for you but you didn’t trust him enough to cook alone. You guys were baking some desserts for the hunters association party on tomorrow. You both were having fun and covered in flour and batter. Xavier was making your job a bit harder because he kept ‘tasting’ the mix. You didn’t mind much though because you enjoyed spending time with him. You did tell him to slow down on the eating because you didn’t want him to get a stomachache.

After taking the cake out of the oven, you high five Xavier. He smiles at how happy you were about you guys’ accomplishment. He loved how positive you were about everything. You always found a bright side even if it seemed like there wasn’t one. He knew he loved you when he started staring at you longingly. You put him in a daze just by being you. You occupied his thoughts no matter what was going on.

“We should get married.” He spoke without thinking but he didn’t regret it. You stared at him with wide eyes not fully processing what he just said. Was he proposing? Was he crazy? So many questions and not enough answers.

“Have we been in the kitchen too long?” You ask genuinely. Maybe the fumes were getting to him and he needed to step onto the balcony.

“No.” He laughs before leaning on his elbows on the kitchen counter. His voice became softer as he spoke, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

Your jaw was on the floor. You spend the rest of your life with him? This had to be some sort of fever dream. Xavier was straightforward but this was surprising even for him. You couldn’t gather words as he just watched you fumble. You settled with an enthusiastic nod, too tongue tied to give a verbal answer. He smiles at your answer before rounding the counter to kiss you. He was extremely happy that you said yes.

Rafayel can shout from the rooftops about how much he loves you. It would be pointless considering just about everyone in Linkon knows it. He can’t not bring you up whenever he’s having a conversation. He will find anyway to squeeze you in there. He would tattoo it on his chest if he were into it. There is no him without you.

On this particular day he was to unveil an art piece he had been working on for weeks. You knew it was special when he wouldn’t even show you. It intrigued you what was until that veil. Could it be another environmental piece? A new color perhaps? Only time will tell.

Rafayel unveiled the piece for you and immediately your jaw was on the floor. It was of you and him, he dipped you as you held a bouquet of flowers. His nose nuzzled in your neck as you laughed. Anyone would think this was a portrait of a distant memory but no he painted your future together. You felt your heart skip a beat at the sight. He was proving himself to you in the most beautiful way possible.

“I want nothing more than to wake up to you everyday. Go to sleep with you there everyday.” He starts making your lips tremble. He tilts your chin up to look at his watery eyes, “Marry me?” He asks his voice shaky as he spoke.

“Of course.” You smile wiping your eyes, he holds you close as you fall into his arms. This was a moment that would be engraved into his mind for the rest of his life.

Many thought of Zayne as boring, nonchalant and so forth and so on. Not to you, never to you. He was expressive you just had to get to know him first. He’s thoughtful, kind and caring, many of the reasons why you love him. He loved you for some of the same reasons and even smaller ones than that. He loved the way you’d curl into him unconsciously when you guys were in bed. He loved the way you’d make him lunch with a cute note inside. He loved how you loved him unconditionally. Even when his evol first went out of control in front of you, you didn’t run away or cower away from him, rather you helped him through it.

You guys were basking in the night sky as fireworks exploded in the sky. He could’ve been watching the sky and how it lit up beautifully yet he only saw you. The fireworks reflecting off your eyes as you sat in awe at the different colors and designs it spewed. He felt so content in your presence no matter what you did together. You quickly tap his hand and point to the huge explosion filled with orange, pinks and purples. How could he not want to spend the rest of his life with you? Music played in the background as he felt you lean into him.

“Where do you see yourself in the future, Zayne.” You murmured as the fireworks calmed down. He sighs as his lips tugged upwards.

“I see myself…still being a surgeon however, I’ll have something more.” He hints making you furrow your brows. You look at him curiously wondering what he meant.

“A promotion?” You questioned. He was at the top what else could he want? Did he want to own a hospital of his own?

“Yes, you can call it that.” He teased making you narrow your eyes as they dart around. You were thinking to yourself all the possibilities he could mean. He cupped your cheeks bringing you closer to him.

“I want the next stage in my life to be an important milestone…together.” He clasps you and his hands together. Your eyes search his before they widen in shock, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much.” He softly spoke placing his forehead on yours.

You felt your water line fill as you thought about it. You didn’t think he wanted a life with you. You didn’t know why but it never crossed your mind. Living in the moment was all you wanted to do with him. Not push him for change or nag him about anything like that. Being here with him right now was enough for you. Always.

“We’re getting married?” You breathe making his eyes soften as he chuckles.

“Only if you want to.” He murmured kissing your hand. You felt the tears fall as you try and stop them. He stares at you fondly, his heart beating for you.

“Of course I want to. What kind of question is that?” You cry as he chuckles before hugging you and kissing the crown of your head a few times. The fireworks explode above you sealing the moment in your hearts forever.

I love cute/romantic moments they warm my heart 🥹

2K notes · View notes

cocastyle · 2 months ago

Text

I See You

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3

also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.

He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.

But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.

Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.

So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.

It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.

Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.

Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?

Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.

Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.

"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."

Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."

"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"

Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”

Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"

The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."

"Kid—"

"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."

She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.

"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.

"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.

Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.

"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.

"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.

"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"

"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.

She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.

"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."

Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.

"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."

Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."

Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."

"Why?" Bob questioned.

"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."

She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."

Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."

It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.

"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."

Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.

"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."

“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.

“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”

Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”

“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.

I see you.

Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.

She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.

You do see me, don't you?

Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.

I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.

"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.

"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."

Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"

"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."

Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.

“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.

It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”

“Get pulled back under again?”

Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”

There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”

Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.

He had never had that before.

“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”

Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.

“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.

Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”

Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.

It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.

“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.

His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

The darkness had never come after Bob before.

Not like this.

Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.

Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.

And he knew.

The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.

Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.

"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.

"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"

Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.

Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.

- - -

Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.

Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.

He deserved to be alone.

At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.

It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.

"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”

“Everyone is.”

2K notes · View notes

g1rld1ary · 3 months ago

Text

bothersome - james potter x gn!reader

wc: 1047

summary: you and james can't help but bother each other whenever you sit together in class

me: this was so sweet and fun to write i love having someone to annoy in classes <3 it's also 2:30am rn so if anything doesn't make sense its coz im delirious! i believe r is gn/no pronouns used by lmk if i have slipped up!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“shut up!” you hissed, a laugh threatening to spill out of you. james shook his head with a devious grin.

“am i not entertaining you?” he pretended to be hurt, pulling puppy dog eyes as he leant closer.

“you,” you pushed his face away with your hand, “are impeding on my education. i would like to listen to mcgonagall, thank you.” you really did try to focus on what your professor was saying, but james was making it exceedingly difficult.

james was twirling his wand between the fingers of his non-dominant hand, a habit you both found entrancing and incessantly annoying. you loved watching the muscles and ligaments stretching and transforming, james’ hands were endlessly interesting to you. however, it was really impacting your ability to focus on transfiguration.

“five galleons for you to flick it on the floor,” you whispered, shifting even closer so only james would hear it. he looked over at you, momentarily surprised by the lack of space between your faces, then straightened himself out, pulling on his signature mischief-making smile.

“you really should know better than to make a bet with me, love,” he chided playfully.

then you were watching it happen. the wand running smoothly between james’ long fingers before flinging through the air, halfway across the classroom. because james potter never did anything by half, the wand gained impressive velocity, flying over the head of marlene mckinnon and lily evans who sat in front of her, clattering loudly on the floor by lily’s feet.

mcgonagall paused her lecture, eyes zeroing in on the wand. before she could ask any questions, james was up like a rocket, apologising loudly and dramatically to the whole class as you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop any mortified giggles seeping out.

“mister potter, may i suggest keeping your wand out of your hands when not casting spells?”

“of course, professor. honestly, i don’t know what came over me — some sort of seizure, perhaps?” james was far too coy to be genuine, and everyone knew it. still, mcgonagall only gave him a long stare, then resumed her lecture as james made the humiliating walk of shame back to his seat.

“pay up,” james whispered, nudging you enthusiastically. you sighed, dramatising your upset. you drudged around in your robe pockets for a few coins, putting them silently in james’ outstretched hand.

you quickly redirected your focus to the lecture unfolding before you, naively believing james was done with your attention.

“do you think if we asked really nicely, minnie would let us hex all the slytherins so their skin’s green for a week?” he asked in what was definitely too loud for the circumstances, affirmed by mcgonagall reprimanding him.

“mister potter, i hope this is not you trying to interrupt my class.” she stared him down as you covered your face with your hands beside him. “if you were creating distractions after your… medical episode, i would suggest that you were perhaps ill? perhaps unable to attend quidditch training this afternoon?”

that certainly got james’ attention and he shook his head vehemently, falling dead silent for the remainder of the lesson.

whilst you were safe for the remainder of transfiguration, in potions he was back in full force.

“why do you do this to me?” you sighed good-naturedly as james slipped into the bench next to you. “what if i was saving that seat for someone?”

“you don’t have any other friends. it’s not kind to lie, love.” james’ eyes twinkled in a way that distracted you for a moment before you came to your senses and huffed.

“i have friends, idiot. you just keep taking up all my time so i can’t ever hang out with them.”

“you love me,” james sang, throwing an arm around your shoulder. you shrugged it off, trying your best to look annoyed.

“i tolerate you, and even that’s being kind.” you pushed him away as slughorn approached the front of the classroom to start his spiel.

you barely got through the first five minutes before james was getting restless, straying from class notes to writing dumb jokes and poking you until you caved and read them.

a particularly dirty one had you snorting down at your desk and praying no one would notice. james delighted in your breaking, grasping your arm and shaking you around as he laughed until you had to hit him.

“you’re so annoying,” you hissed, your tone unfortunately lacking any bite.

you reached your quill over to james’ paper, scratching out a childish james potter is a huge idiot!

james’ mouth dropped open in faux despair, screwing his features and thinking up a reply.

you’re an idiot he replied.

so creative

shut up. you’re annoying

“are we having issues over here? does anybody need another piece of parchment?” slughorn surprised you both. you didn’t realise you’d been so distracted writing stupid messages over james’ notes you hadn’t even heard him approach.

“no!” you jumped away from james, inches between you. “i just wanted, uh, clarification on the, uh, application. sorry.” james did nothing to help you, just nodding serenely and relying on the charm of his smile.

“alright,” slughorn nodded as if he didn’t believe a word you said, “if you need any help you’re more than welcome to schedule a meeting with me after class.”

“of course, thanks, professor.” you smiled meekly, embarrassment clear on your features.

as soon as slughorn’s back was turned, you were hitting james in the bicep repeatedly, punishment for humiliating you. unfortunately, he took it in stride, easily overpowering you and manhandling you so you were facing back towards your paper.

“you heard him,” james teased, “and if you have to stay back after class you’ll lose all that precious time to hang out with your alleged other friends.”

“i literally hate you.”

sirius and remus sat behind you both, observing the class with identical disbelieving looks.

“there is no way they don’t realise,” sirius said, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

“i really don’t think they do.” remus shook his head, scribbling down the instructions slughorn was listing from his desk.

“are they stupid?”

“worse. crushing.”

888 notes · View notes

after-witch · 2 months ago

Text

The Grass is Greener [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: The Grass is Greener [Yandere Shigaraki x reader]

Synopsis: Shigaraki Tomura finds something at Overhaul’s base that’s worth taking.

Word count: 7000ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, dubcon sex, abuse

It’s not that Tomura Shigaraki thought the base of the once-great–he tucks the once into his molars, savoring it–Shie Hassaikai would be teeming with life. It’s that he thought some of them might have the balls to stick around and fight for the remnants of their organization.

But they must have been paying real-fucking-close attention, because there wasn’t a trace of a living person left in the entire facility. Which was a shame–while killing some stupid underlings wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as destroying the hands of a fear-stricken Overhaul, it would still be a little fun.

Well. At least the rest of the League seemed to be having a decent time sifting through the hallways, the abandoned rooms. Finding things to take home or mock or both.

The sights of overturned chairs and abandoned posts both sickened and thrilled him. Sickened because, really, what unloyal douchebags. Thrilled because it meant they were afraid–afraid of the League. Afraid of him.

They should be. It was only a matter of time before everyone else was, too.

Most of the rooms are what they expected, minus any signs of existing life. There’s even some kind of hospital lab–what did that creepy asshole do in there, he wonders–amidst the various bunkers, a kitchen, odds and ends.

Still, there’s one room Shigaraki wants to find–wants to sift through himself, in case there’s anything worthwhile. More money would be nice. More vials, more secrets. More, simply put.

“Think I found it.” Dabi stares at a door that’s so irritatingly obviously the door that Shigaraki doesn’t hesitate to shove his palm against it, watching it crumble into dust with something a bit like satisfaction.

Unlike the other doors, plain grey things, this door was a sleek black metal. Probably with some fancy lock system that didn’t matter anymore.

And unlike the other rooms with their scattered papers and overturned chairs, with signs of messy life and abandonment, this room is really fucking perfect. Prim. Proper. Utterly disgusting, really, and Shigaraki is the first one to step in and sweep his hand across a side table lined with perfectly spaced vases and send them crashing to the floor.

Lovely.

“Don’t take anything yet,” he says, glancing at the others. “But tell me if you find something worthwhile.”

There’s murmurs of agreement that mingle with a general sense of curiosity. He soaks in the feeling in the air–the triumph. The thrill of victory thrumming through everyone’s chests, no doubt, the same way it’s making his whole body tingle.

Overhaul’s room is just as annoying as he is; it’s entirely expected. Immaculate. Through an open doorway, he can see a bedroom with perfectly pressed black sheets. No doubt in the closet were equally perfectly pressed clothing sets. Fucker probably had perfectly shined shoes, too.

It’s all too satisfying to plop down in Overhaul’s chair and stick his boots, dirt and mud and blood flecking off the soles, onto the meticulously organized desk. There’s probably something important on there, but Shigaraki doesn’t mind if it’s got dirt (or a boot print) on it for later.

“What’s this door for, do you think?” Toga pokes–literally–at a closed door on the side of the room.

In the beats of silence after her question, Shigaraki hears it–they all hear it: sound. From behind the door. Shuffling and scuttling. Footsteps–

Someone’s still here.

There’s a curling little thrill inside his stomach as he stands and makes his way to the door. Toga is mid-way asking about looking for the key inside Overhaul’s desk when Shigaraki places his palm on the wood and disintegrates it with his hands.

He expected an underling’s office. Maybe a second-in-command that had yet to show his face, stationed in some side office next to Overhaul. Probably someone just as organized, by choice or by command.

He doesn’t expect a bedroom. Not just a bedroom, actually, but one that is so clearly not Overhaul’s living space that it’s a bit disorienting. Sure, it’s got that same sort of annoying tidiness as Overhaul’s office and the glimpse of his bedroom.

But it’s… prettier. Softer. Touches here and there, that place it distinctly away from Overhaul himself. A soft pink comforter with matching pillows. Watercolor paintings taped to the wall. A bookshelf with spines that he vaguely recognizes–some light novels and mangas, fantasies, romances, all pinks and pastels.

And in the center of the room, a table with some scattered papers, an overturned chair…

Like someone had heard they were coming and bolted.

There’s only one place for someone to go, and that’s the only other door remaining in the room. He gestures for the rest of the League to stand by as he watches the door turn to ash.

Behind the door is a bathroom, immaculately cleaned, with a toilet room and then beyond it, a room with a tub–and inside that tub, no doubt bleach-cleaned like mad, is you.

Cowering, of course. Wearing a pretty white dress with pink flowers embroidered all over it–you’re all flounces and frills. Even from the doorway, he can see you trembling, can see your eyes all wide, pupils blown in fear.

Staring at him like a victim, like a doe. Like some pretty little thing in way over your head.

And you are, aren’t you? You’re like some fish all flopped out of the water, gasping for breath on the sand.

It’s irritating, really.

“Who are you?” He asks, none too nicely.

He sees your lips press together, and thinks, all instinct: haughty bitch.

But then he reconsiders. The pieces are put together link by link. A pretty little thing kept in a room adjacent to Overhaul’s private office, wearing nice clothes, given nice things…

“You’re Overhaul’s squeeze?”

You furrow your eyebrows, like you’re thinking way too hard. He might add “stupid” to his list of descriptors–doe, sweet, scared. Stupid.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Oh, you are sweet. You’ve got a soft, trembling voice to match your shaking form.

“His girlfriend,” Dabi drawls from behind them. The rest of the League is watching, craning their necks, eager (or indifferent) to see where this goes.

“No,” you say, then seemingly correct yourself. “Y-Yes. I… we’re…” Everything seems to confuse you, and you pull your arms tight across your chest. “Where… is he?”

Shigaraki doesn’t hide his grin. “Oh, he’s a little tied up at the moment.”

And then, odd thing you apparently are, you take a breath in. Almost in relief, he thinks. You stand up and take an unsteady step out of the tub–he finds that he likes that. Likes the way you try to straighten up a little, despite being unable to look him in the eye.

“When is he coming back?” You keep looking to the side, and tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “Did he send you?”

Shigaraki’s lips twitches. “You ask too many questions.”

You fiddle with the hem of your dress, then. And he finds he likes that, too. Likes the way you look like some sort of bizarre doll in this bunker of Overhaul’s, some little treat he left behind.

And left behind you were–because there’s no way in hell Overhaul will be able to get you out of here himself.

“He won’t be coming back,” Shigaraki says, easily enough. “Ever.”

And oh, you finally look right at him and what is this? Something that looks like joy in your eyes.

Shit, maybe you aren’t as annoying as you seem.

“Then I…” You swallow, and there’s a crack of a smile on your lips. “I can go home now?”

Go home? Ah. Another piece clicks together. Not a girlfriend, then. A toy; a kidnapped one, anyway. Overhaul wouldn’t be the first creep to resort to kidnapping to get a partner.

“He kidnapped you?” There’s no pity in his tone, and he hopes you aren’t looking for it, because you won’t find it with him. He just wants the confirmation.

You nod, looking down at the floor again. “Yes. Um. And he… I’ve been kept here a while, so…”

While your words drift away, his mind drifts, thinking of the souvenirs from this bunker that the League’s got stuffed in their bags. Remnants of Overhaul’s reign. He ought to take something besides that fucker’s hands.

And aren’t you the perfect trophy? Some doll that Overhaul wanted and took, kept here in this stuffy bunker. You probably haven’t even seen sunlight in ages. All pretty and soft and maybe stupid, by choice or force.

Why not? He’s earned it. He has a right to anything that shitbag left behind.

Even you–especially you, with your trembling hands and flouncy dress. He thinks about the watercolors on the walls and wonders what happened if you got paint on this dress, or any other; Overhaul probably kept you in the same types of frilly things day after day.

He might, too. Or not. He doesn’t even know what he wants with you, really. He might have fun with you, might just let you go, might just keep you until you’re boring. It doesn’t matter. There’s no sense in plotting so far ahead when the real thrill is in the act of taking what he wants. And right now, in this moment, he finds that he wants you.

It’s Shigaraki’s turn to crack a smile, but there’s not much joy to be found in it.

“How would you like to live somewhere else?”

It is, of course, a rhetorical question.

–

What happened in between? You can’t be too sure; the memories are all blurs and fogs, snatches of conversation–a girl complimenting your dress and someone asking if you had any injuries, if he hurt you–and overwhelming noise.

It was easy to forget how quiet your life had been, when confronted with the outside world.

Maybe that’s why it’s all fuzzy. Your mind or your body or both went into some sort of shock, maybe, in between the bathroom to the truck to the–wherever this is. Not a bunker, exactly, like where Overhaul kept you.

It’s a bedroom, that seems obvious enough. A messy one. The man–Shigaraki Tomura, he’d told you–dumped you in here and said simply, “Don’t do anything stupid,” before leaving. The door is surely locked, though you don’t have the nerve to try it. Where would you go, if you were brave enough to run?

It would be stupid, besides, and he told you not to do anything stupid. You’re good at following orders. Well, now you are; it took training. Will this Shigaraki Tomura want to train you? What is he going to do with you, after all?

The question makes you cringe.

“What am I to do with you?” Overhaul–Kai, he insisted–would ask you, when you did something wrong. The question always carried with it the thread of being remade. Literally. The threat of his hands on you and being blown to bits and put together the way he wanted. So you answered his questions by remaking yourself from the inside out; it was gentler, that way.

Overhaul–Kai?--was… gone. Dead, maybe? They didn’t say. Shigaraki told you that he wouldn’t be coming back for you. Someone else in the truck had quipped–”He’s got his hands full”--which made one person snicker, then everyone else laugh. You didn’t know why it was funny, and you didn’t want to know.

Maybe you’ll be bait. Or ransom. Or maybe he wants you to…

On this messy, unfamiliar bed, your fingers begin to pull at the dingy, faded comforter. The threads come out with a bit of work from your fingernails, and it’s satisfying, to yank on them, as you contemplate.

Maybe he wants you to…

You know what villains might do to people they kidnap. You’ve read your romance novels. Though Overhaul took some of them away once he’d realized what they were about. Still. The thought of that is–scary, sending tingles down your back.

Overhaul never touched you like that. Sure, he looked at you sometimes. When you were asleep but when you were awake, too. Told you to stand still and ghosted his fingers just above your nightgown, until he’d pull himself away and scrub his hands raw in the bathroom.

You don’t suppose this Shigaraki Tomura will be squeamish.

As if on cue, the door swings open, and your sort-of-rescuer-but-maybe-also-kidnapper tosses a pre-warmed bowl of noodles on the bed. They bounce against the plastic wrap, and you can see the artificial color sticking to the condensation against the plastic. A pair of chopsticks lands next to the bowl.

“Dinner,” he says, before plopping down on an upholstered chair shoved into the corner of the room. He tears the plastic off his own bowl, and begins to eat unceremoniously.

You scooch back on the mattress, your clean, full skirt feeling dingier by the minute on the mattress. That was dinner? The meals that Overhaul made you come to mind–not just the meals, but the dinner itself.

Dinner was meant to be at 7pm sharp. At your table, which you’d cleaned and cleared. Dinner was meticulously thought out, he told you, each element designed to give you the best nutrition possible. Protein, fat, fiber, carbs; vegetables, lean meat, rice. Sometimes a bit of chopped sweet potato as a treat.

This–this was certainly not appropriate. And to eat it, where exactly? On the mattress? Something tingles in your chest, imagining all the germs seeping into the plastic, settling onto the noodles.

The noodles themselves were a problem, though.

You clear your throat. Shigaraki doesn’t notice. You clear it louder, and he sighs.

“What?”

You poke a finger at the bowl.

“I’m not allowed to eat that.”

As if he should know.

He blinks at you.

“Eat it, or don’t. I don’t care.”

Then he goes back to eating his own meal, and you’re left with something dull inside your chest. It’s not right–the meal. Or the setting. Or any of this, really.

Some part of you, a selfish part, wishes you were back in your bed inside your clean room; wishes that you were still waiting, colored pencils and paper in hand, for him to get back and continue on with your orderly, if captive, existence.

Well, if wishes came true, none of this would have happened in the first place.

You can’t bring yourself to touch the noodles; the thought of them makes your stomach ache. Overhaul (Kai, you remind yourself) would be able to tell you all that was wrong with a meal like that, and you try to envision what he’d say. It becomes too tiring so you simply pull your legs up and wait to find out what this Shigaraki wants.

The answer must come, you think, when he tosses his bowl in the trash bin and shrugs off his coat. It smells of sweat and dust, or is that him?

Without warning, he flops down on the mattress, almost sending you flying off the side. He snickers, and you feel warmth flush your chest as you try to recollect yourself. But even that brief loss of dignity gets lost when you realize what must be coming now.

What villains do, when they take someone away.

Will it hurt? Will it take long? How often will he do it?

He props himself up on his elbow and you can feel him staring at you. Sizing you up, probably. Deciding on how and when he’ll take you. The realization makes your heart begin to race, and cold sweat beads against the back of your neck.

When will he do it? Now? Now?

When you hesitantly glance at him, you can see he is sizing you up–looking at your dress and your socked feet and the way you’ve pulled your knees up to your chest. There’s a flash in your mind of him ripping it off, shoving you down onto the mattress, and then–then.

But it doesn’t happen. He doesn’t move towards you, despite his leering look.

Instead of hovering over you and pinning you down to the mattress, he simply scoffs. Then he sits up and grabs a game controller, turning on a system set-up at the far end of the room.

“Be quiet,” he says, “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to mess up this level.”

Eventually, as your heart begins to settle, you stare at the cooling bowl of microwaved noodles on the mattress.

Your stomach growls.

But this would make you sick; that’s what Overhaul said.

And he’d done many things to you, but he never lied.

–

Hunger can be overcome. It can be uncomfortable, true; but you’d dealt with it before. During the days when you hadn’t been good enough yet, and Overhaul refused you anything but water, until you’d given in and behaved yourself.

So it’s not the growing hunger that’s bothering you now, as the day wears on and it must surely be nighttime.

It’s the sleepiness.

Hunger can be ignored–but this? It’s hard to ignore the way your head is starting to slap hard against your knees as you begin to micronap, unable to keep awake no matter how many times you pinch your flesh.

It’s not a gesture you’ve had to do in so long–bedtime was, well. Bedtime. A set time with set things to do, all designed–or so Kai told you–to get you the best possible sleep so your body could rest and heal. (Heal from what, he never said.)

So sitting on a mattress and feeling your body jerk in desperation as it tries to get some sleep is something new. Something difficult.

If this Shigaraki Tomura notices, he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are glued to the news, a grin on his face, his palm slapping his thigh at the action.

The news has him enthralled, so your fights to stay awake are probably not even on his radar. Which means you’ll have to bring it up yourself–that question that’s been pulling at you since you realized it must be well past afternoon and into the night.

“Excuse me…” You say, voice hoarse. You clear it, then realize you don’t know exactly what to call him. He gave his name, but that didn’t mean you were supposed to use it. So when you continue, you err on the side of caution. “Excuse me, sir?”

At this, he finally seems to remember that you’re in the room. He waves a hand at you, vague irritation crossing his features. “Just call me Shigaraki.” Instantly, his gaze turns back to the TV.

Your tongue feels heavy as you swallow. “Oh. I’m sorry. Um. Shigaraki?”

You can see him push his tongue against the side of his cheek, his eyes still not leaving the TV. There’s some sort of press conference footage playing, though you can’t quite focus on the words.

“What?” he says, almost a grumble. “Don’t ask for something to eat. I already gave you dinner. Eat it cold, if you’re hungry.”

Oh, that. You’d set the bowl on the floor once you’d decided that it was best not to eat. It would have been awful if it got knocked over and the sauce seeped through the plastic rim, after all. Although given the status of the mattress, maybe it was generous to care about additional stains.

“It’s not–” Your voice is too soft, in this room, with the mess and the TV. You try to speak up, something you haven’t done in so long. “I was just wondering, that is, I wanted to know…” Directly asking things is no longer in your nature, and your fingers find themselves playing with the hem of your skirt.

The sound from the TV stops abruptly, and you flinch. He’s muted it. He turns fully to you now, irritation written on his face. “Can you just spit it out already?”

A shuddering breath escapes your chest as you force the question out: “I just–I wanted to know, what time am I going to bed?”

You do not ask the rest, though surely it must be a given: What time are you going to bathe me, what nightgown would you like me to wear, do you prefer to brush my teeth for me or can I do it myself, am I sleeping on your bed or somewhere else?

He blinks at you, not for the first time today. “Whenever you bother to fall asleep.” The words come out slow, like you’re some inept child.

You’re starting to feel like one. Because the words hit you, the way he intends them, all hurtful and condescending. But you can’t make sense of them. Go to bed whenever? Without anything to prepare you? It doesn’t register–you don’t know what he means.

And you tell him so, as plainly as you can:

“I don’t understand.”

He rolls his eyes, and a pit inside your stomach seems to open up, tossing each irritated expression into it and making you feel worse.

“What’s there to understand?” He waves at the mattress. “Pick a side and go to sleep. Or don’t. I don’t really care.”

He turns back to the TV, clearly not interested in any further conversation, and turns the sound back on. Without so much as an order or command or at the very least, an expectation from you.

What a strange man. What a strange place. What a strange world.

There is, at first, a temptation to tell him. To explain what your needs are–why you can’t simply go to sleep. But then come the thoughts about punishment. He’d already gotten annoyed with you for simply asking. What would he do if you, bold thing, insisted on it?

And so, on this new first day of what is apparently the rest of your life, you’re left to curl up on the farthest edge of the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a headache lingering at the back of your forehead, and hunger in your stomach, and it’s all so wrong.

If Kai were here–and he’s not, and you can’t deny that you don’t hate that fact even as your mind jolts from the strange turnabout the day has taken–this wouldn’t be happening. But this new one… this Shigaraki, maybe it’s too much to expect from him right now.

He just took you, after all, and it sounds like whatever group he belongs to was involved in something major today. A long day–a hard day. So he must still be thinking on the rules, how to properly manage you.

You need to be managed, after all. That is one thing you learned from Kai.

It’s surprising to you that you’re even able to fall asleep without everything that ought to be done. Without the ritual of the bath, without being handed your nightgown while Kai turns around and swears he won’t look, without your hair being tended to, without being tucked into bed…

Exhaustion doesn’t seem to care about rituals.

So sleep, you do; and when it takes you, it takes you hard, dragging you into a heavy slumber while the TV plays on.

–

When you wake up, it’s morning–and you are alone.

There’s a bright light streaming in through the windows and it’s a wonder you can stand up at all, with your muscles aching and the world itself feeling topsy turvy, as you fumble for the shabby curtains with one hand over your eyes. They rip a little as you yank them over the window, but at least you don’t feel blinded now.

There hadn’t been windows, before; in the bunker, that is. With Overhaul–with Kai. Just the overhead lights at first, and then eventually, a pretty lamp with a soft lilac-colored shade. A gift, for behaving; for being trustworthy enough to control your own light. It was nice to be able to turn on the light when you had to pee in the middle of the night, at least.

There are no lilac lamps here. Only an overhead light that, when you peer closely, appears to have a smattering of dead flies resting inside the lamp shade. The thought brings bile to your empty stomach, and it growls in retaliation.

You hadn’t eaten in… was it almost two days, now?

Maybe Shigaraki was getting your breakfast. That seemed right–that he’d sleep off yesterday’s havoc and spend the morning organizing his rules for you. What you should eat, and wear, and your schedule.

But what should you do in the meantime?

You stand, stretching your worn-out muscles, and take stock of the room he’s placed you in. It’s not clean, that’s for sure. Messy, to say the least. Used clothes and food wrappers are strewn about, and the whole room has a terrible sense of neglect.

If your room isn’t clean, how could you hope to get anything done?

Kai had told you that, when you argued about his expectations for your room. Everything ought to be perfectly tidy, he’d said. And after a while, how could you disagree? It only made sense. When your room was organized, your thoughts could be organized. When your thoughts were organized, everything else simply fell into place.

And maybe–maybe that’s the trick, here. Shigaraki left you alone in the morning, because he wanted to see what you’d do. Wanted to see if you’d pick up on a classic rule–keep things clean and tidy–without being told.

Before, Kai needed to train you–but now? Now, you knew the game.

A smile, faint and uncertain though it is, crawls across your face.

You’d pass this test with flying colors.

–

He’s still not sure what to do with you. The thought comes to him, faintly and then stronger, as he gets closer and closer to the bedroom where you’re being kept. It’s one thing to take what you’re due, another to decide how to manage it–how to manage you.

It’s a bit like taking in a pet, he realized over the night. You’ve got to be fed and watered and all that. Clothed, if he feels like it. He’s not sure if he does. And if you’re too much trouble, well. It might not be worth the thrill of taking what was once Overhaul’s, in the end.

He almost expects you to still be asleep when he opens the door, but as soon as he steps in, he can see you’re up and about and–

Cleaning?

The room is almost unrecognizable. He doesn’t bother much with tidying. Not when there are far more important things going on. Yet you’ve picked up every bit of trash, folded all the dirty clothes he’s thrown here and there… even made the bed. You clearly haven’t noticed him open the door, because you’re just finishing up the folding, humming a bit to yourself.

He can’t decide if he likes it or not.

“What are you doing?”

You flinch at his sudden words, and there–he likes that; the fear, the flinching, it’s familiar. He can work with it. He deepens his frown, just to see what you do.

You swallow, timidly folding your hands in front of you. All proper and prim.

“I–I thought you wanted me to clean.”

He snorts. He doesn’t know what he wants you to do, exactly, but “tidy up the bedroom” probably wouldn’t be at the top of the list.

“I didn’t tell you to clean.” And maybe it comes out snarkier than he intends to be, but so what? He’s allowed to be an ass, if he wants.

Your hands wring together, and your gaze flits down to the floor.

“But I thought… I thought…” You seem to struggle with the words, your voice getting higher, more anxious. You’re like a bird, he thinks, one afraid to fall from some carefully constructed nest in a tree. There’s an instinct to crush you until those brittle bones break–and another instinct, too. One that makes him want to scratch.

“I thought it was… a test.”

What.

“A test? Are you stupid, or something?”

When you don’t answer, just bring your top teeth over your lip and wring your hands tighter, he can’t help the almost cruel warmth that spreads in his chest. This–this is more familiar territory, he thinks.

He wonders, too, how often Overhaul made you look like that; how often he might want to make you look like that in the future.

“What did that freak do to you, anyway?” Curiosity mixes with his existing annoyance, and it clearly takes a moment for you to realize he’s talking about Overhaul.

“Overh–” You catch the words in your mouth. “Kai,” you say, and the way you say it so sweetly feels rehearsed–and gross. “He didn’t do anything.” You shake your head, like you’ve said something awful. “No! I mean. He did everything.” He watches your throat bob as you swallow. “He taught me how to be better.”

“Better,” he says, the word coming out all slow and sticky and thoroughly unimpressed.

“Yes,” you say, staring down at your feet. Your fingers pick at the hem of your nightgown. “How to be… organized.” You seemingly ignore his snort. “How to be clean. Things like that.”

“Why?” He can’t help the sneer in his voice, even if he’s dimly aware that he’s not fully committed to tearing you down just yet. “Were you a dirty girl?”

You frown and swallow and shake your pretty head. “No, of course not. He made me take a bath or shower twice a day.”

So much for teasing. You’re too stupid–or naive, whether it was natural or beaten into you by Overhaul–to get it, apparently.

He’s not sure how long he stares at you. Long enough that you stop worrying at the floor and start worrying at him, your eyes all wide and anxious and getting glossier by the minute. Soon enough, he’s sure tears will start spilling down.

He stops you before you start sputtering out apologies–and teardrops.

“That’s not what I meant.” A finger goes to his neck, scratching. The white dress, the teary eyes, the way you can’t really keep his gaze… it’s annoying. It’s endearing. Both are equally tiresome.

“You’re giving me a headache,” he says, finally. An end to the conversation, he hopes. Then he digs into the pocket of his coat and tosses its contents at you–a wrapped up egg sandwich someone pilfered a while ago, shoved into the shared fridge and forgotten amidst their recent win. “Here. Breakfast.”

You barely catch the sandwich (your reflexes sure are shit, he thinks; you’d die in the wild) but the way you simply stare down at it, words apparently caught behind your teeth, brings irritation to the forefront again.

“What?” He almost bites the words out. “Not good enough for you?” Maybe Overhaul fed you on silver platters or something equally ridiculous.

Perhaps it’s his tone, or maybe you’re just that eager to get him un-pissed at you, but you manage to unstick your tongue and stumble out something akin to an explanation.

“I’m not allowed to have white bread. It’s too processed.” You turn the sandwich over, inspecting. “And there’s mayo… it’s got too much oil, and–”

“Not allowed.” The word becomes a sneer. “Who are you to tell me what I’m allowed to give you?” Captives–that’s what you are, at bare minimum, at least–aren’t usually so damn bold.

And oh, the way your face seems to fall, the way your mouth perks around your words like a damn heroine in a novel.

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean–it’s that–” The wrapper on the sandwich crinkles as your fingers tighten. It makes his chest tighten, too. How stupid. “It’s not safe. It’ll make me sick. Unhealthy. Kai said so–”

So that’s why you turn up your nose at food? Overhaul, of all fucking people?

“Kai says,” he repeats, mocking your voice, the soft lilt of it, the way each word mimics the pitiful wringing of your hands. “Kai,” he continues, “isn’t here. So who gives a flying fuck what he said?”

He doesn’t wait to see what you say or what you do. He leaves without another word–he’ll relax somewhere else, without you and your pitiful self to think about–and doesn’t see you sink down onto the mattress. He doesn’t see the way you grip the sandwich until your fingers smoosh into the bread.

He doesn’t see the way you eventually, and oh it takes so long, peel back the wrapper and take a small and slow bite.

–

It’s only been a few days, and maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems like your stomach is finally beginning to settle. The food isn’t–it isn’t right, it isn’t healthy. That’s what your brain tells you, what your mouth wants to parrot. But you’re so hungry and–this is what Shigaraki wants you to eat.

So you should do what he says. You think. It’s still debatable, still churning around in your head. Kai taught you what was best, and now you’re here, where what was “best” seems to be entirely pointless.

You’re still digesting a microwaved breakfast that definitely wouldn’t have passed Kai’s examination when the door opens. Shigaraki enters, as he always does, without bothering to acknowledge you.

He’ll probably sit down and eat something for himself. Or start texting someone–the other people in his group, maybe. Sometimes he unwinds with video games. Or naps.

But instead, he approaches you, boots thudding on the hardwood floor. They stop right in front of you and you have just enough time to think about all the germs on the bottom of the soles before he speaks–

“Hey.”

You look up. His face is twisted today, nose screwed over, mouth turned down in a frown. You did something wrong, probably. But what? You ate breakfast, and didn’t even complain about it being wrong today. That was a good step. So what–

“You stink.”

Oh.

Shame curls in your gut with the half-digested breakfast. It’s… true. You haven’t washed for days, and you know you’ve been sweating. Shigaraki doesn’t open the windows and the room isn’t exactly a bastion of fresh air, anyway.

He jerks his thumb at the bathroom door. It’s a far cry from your bathroom back home–back with Overhaul. Messy, dirty; the hand towel hasn’t been changed since you’ve been here. And you doubt that Shigaraki cleans the toilet as nicely as Kai did (well, as Kai’s cleaner did, anyway) so the tub can’t be much better.

Still. Still, it’s what he wants, and that’s what should be done–and it would be nice to get under some hot water and have the sweat and grime and overall feeling of awfulness scrubbed away.

So you dutifully follow him into the bathroom, note a change of clothes that he’s dropped into the open sink, and then–as you should–you stand in front of the tub and wait for him to undress you, so that he can give you a bath.

But instead of ordering your arms up or having you sit on the toilet so he can peel off your socks, he simply turns away and starts to leave.

“Wait–” You can’t stop the word from coming out, can’t stop the way you stupidly reach out a hand.

He does stop. He turns around, face questioning, irritation starting to creep onto his features.

“What?” He tilts his chin towards the tub. “There’s shampoo and soap in there. Some random brand Toga stole. Is it not good enough for your highness, or what?” There’s a bit of a jeer in his tone that makes you want to sink into the floor.

“It’s not that,” you force out. “They’re–they’re fine. It’s just…” And your fingers fiddle with your dress, the fabric feeling more thin and frayed from all your worrying it. “Aren’t you going to draw my bath?”

Because that’s how it goes. Kai draws the bath. Kai undresses you. Kai tests the water, and tells you to get in. Then he cleans you or, if you’ve been exceptionally good, lets you do it yourself while he gives the orders.

The jeer in his tone becomes a snort, an almost sneer on his lips. “You really are a princess, you know that? You can draw it yourself. You’re not that stupid.”

And oh, the way your heart pounds. He’s upset, and you’re upset, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s throwing away the natural order of things or if it’s because you’d like him to be nicer to you.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel too loud, in the bathroom, trapped in the small space with you and Shigaraki. “It’s that–Kai says I don’t clean myself up right. So he does it for me. Tells–tells me what to do, if he doesn’t scrub me himself.”

Your fingers clench hard against your fists–and then harder, when you see the emotions registering on Shigaraki’s face. One emotion in particular–disgust. Disgust, yes, and it makes you feel awful. Makes you feel dirty and stupid, and everything Kai said you were, when you hadn’t yet listened. You can’t look at his expression anymore, so you stare at the floor. At your socked feet, at the dirt between the tiles.

It’s the floor that you see when you hear him sigh, when he steps further into the bathroom and practically pushes past you to turn the water on.

Your heart speeds up–is he going to?--but as if he’s read your mind, he crosses his arms. “I’m just filling the tub for you. You can wash yourself. You remember how to do that, right?” And maybe it’s the way the question seems earnest, no longer weighted down with a mocking tone, that makes you feel better. Not stupid–not dirty.

So you nod, and smile–just a little. Just to show your appreciation.

“Good.” He grabs something–a towel–from a hook on the wall and tosses it at you. He glances away when he speaks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, or if there’s really a faint hint of a flush on his cheeks. “Just… shout out when you’re done and I can help you out or whatever. If you need me to.”

He glances back at the tub, filling rapidly with hot water.

As if to burn away the flush on his cheeks, his voice turns jeering again. “I’ll leave once I turn it off. Don’t take forever in here, either, princess.”

Jeering, sure; but with something nicer mixed in, something like a flush underneath it all that makes your skin tingle.

Maybe Shigaraki wasn’t so bad after all.

–

Overhaul had clearly trained you and fucking hell, you really need to be untrained.

It’s this simple fact that helps Shigaraki decide what to do with you–that is, he’s going to keep you.

Dropping you outside would be like putting some pampered house pet on the streets–you’d be gobbled up. And if you happened to go to the police before you were snatched up by some back-alley criminal, it would complicate things, anyway.

Besides–you’re… endearing. In a way. He likes the way you ask for his permission, likes the way you stammer and stumble over your words when you get anxious.

You’re like a pet. A pet project, that’s what you’ll be. He’ll untrain all the weird fucked up things that Overhaul taught you, and make you into something better.

Overhaul had his kinks, that’s for sure. And while he’s not going to deny that there’s something really fucking hot about imagining you being his mindless doll, letting him bathe you and eating exactly what you’re told and waiting for him to come home in a pretty white dress… it’s simply not very fun.

Or practical, truth be told.

And more importantly–

He wants you to be his in the right way. He’s not some replacement for Overhaul, some step-in that you’ll simply pivot to because he’s there.

Sloppy seconds aren’t his style.

Overhaul is nothing now, a useless, handless fuckup who will rot away and forever regret tangling with him. You should forget about him, forget about what he taught you, how things were with Overhaul. (He makes a mental note: Train you to stop saying ‘Kai,’ especially so damn softly, so damn sweetly. Something Overhaul meticulously taught you to do, no doubt.)

In the end, Shigaraki is better than that failure–so you need to be better than the pet Overhaul created, too.

–

It’s not exactly clear why Shigaraki wants to keep you–but he does keep you. And he gives you something Overhaul had taken away from you: he gives you choice.

So much choice. Too much choice, maybe. Foods aren’t off-limits anymore, and Shigaraki doesn’t scold you for any awful table manners. Maybe because you never eat at a table. You’re allowed to watch TV, and even tentatively take up an extra controller to try (and fail) at the video game he’s currently playing.

He even–and it’s got your stomach in knots, as you make your way down the hall–lets you out of the room. To get some air and, today, meet other people. You’re meeting the League, the people you met (so to speak) on the day Shigaraki took you.

“It’ll be better if you get to know everyone,” he says, almost muttering. “In case someone needs to keep an eye on you while I’m gone for a while.”

The thought of Shigaraki leaving you for that long, too long, almost makes you feel sick, but you try to force it away.

“But you won’t be somewhere else too often, will you?” The question comes out too soft. Something else you’re working on; he told you to talk louder. Less like a rabbit, more like yourself. Whoever you were before all this.

Shigaraki glances back at you, something unreadable in his expression. Did you say something wrong, or not? You’re almost bold enough to ask, when he simply snorts and turns around, gesturing for you to enter an open doorway where you can hear chatter already sifting through.

But you stop at the threshold. At the sound, at the thought of being amongst a group of people. Eating whatever you wanted was one thing; but talking to a whole gaggle of others?

“Are you sure…” The words are soft, but you can’t help it. It’s easier to slip back into that place from before; to be soft and quiet and let someone else take over everything for you. “Are you sure you want to let me talk to other people? Wouldn’t it be better if I only talked to you?”

And now, you did say something wrong, because his expression twists. His nose scrunches and his lip curls up, like he’s thinking about something unpleasant. “No,” he says. “That’d be weird.”

“Oh.” Something dull hits your stomach. Embarrassment and disappointment, a terrible mixture. “Sorry.” You swallow, and add, quickly. “I don’t want to be weird.”

“Too late.”

The two of you turn your head inside the doorway in time to see someone with a burnt face and dark hair watching you, arms folded, a teasing grin on his face.

It is also just in time to see a young girl playfully smack the air next to his arm–”Dabi, don’t be a jerk! She’s not weird, she’s cute!”

There’s barely any time to decide if this is a compliment or not, before Dabi–that must be the man with the burnt face, after all–shrugs and grins. “Sorry,” but he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. The fact that the grin is edged by staples doesn’t help.

The rest of the group is sprawled about the room. On a sofa, on the floor. There’s a card game going on. Drinks on the table, along with takeout. The room looks like it was once some sort of office break room, complete with a microwave and dinged-up fridge.

The conversations that must have been going on are silent now, and you’re left standing awkwardly next to Shigaraki in the doorway. He nudges you forward, then takes a step out the door. There’s a strong urge to grab his sleeve and ask if you can go back to the room, but he begins walking down the hallway and doesn’t give you the chance.

“Um,” you say, and his footsteps in the hall stop for a moment. “Nice to… meet you?”

There’s a moment before there’s a burst of laughter, and the girl–Toga, you’ll learn later–grabs your hand and pulls you inside the room.

–

That night, Shigaraki climbs into bed with you and instead of turning over and keeping to his side of the mattress, he slots himself against your back for the first time.

The freeze response comes naturally, as your heart speeds up and your breath seems to slow down. Overhaul did this, too. When he thought you were sleeping, though.

Shigaraki knows you’re up and his fingers, pinky jutting to the side, ghost over your clothed side, caressing your hip. His fingers skitter underneath your shirt and rest against your stomach, before trailing up, bringing the fabric with it.

He cups your chest and you think the sound you make must startle him, because he pulls away without a word. But if he’s mad, he doesn’t tell you. Instead he stays pressed against your back, breathing.

Why was he still in bed?

“Don’t–” And you stutter out the next words quickly, because you’re not telling him to stop touching you. You wouldn’t dare. But– “Don’t you… want to wash your hands now?”

Something between irritation and curiosity lodges itself in his tone. “Why would I wash my hands?”

You lick your lips, and fight the urge to turn around in bed and look at him while you speak. Sometimes, when you told him about–Overhaul–the disdainful expressions he made stirred something awful in your gut. Made you feel ashamed and silly. He didn’t mean to do it, you think; but that didn’t change how you felt.

“Overhaul… when he touched me like this, he always washed his hands in the bathroom after. For a long time. Because–” The word Overhaul would mutter over and over come back, like acid rain pattering on the roof. “I’m dirty.”

You don’t want to look at him, but you don’t get a choice, because he grips both of your shoulders and lifts you up, until the two of you are sitting with your backs against the wall. The curtains are open and the moonlight washes everything out, but you can see him frowning well enough.

“You’re not dirty,” he says. “Stop saying stupid things.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, but you don’t feel sorry at all. Instead you feel–relieved. Lightened.

He frowns. “And stop saying sorry, too.”

“Right. Sorry–”

You stop with a breath left in the word and in a single beat, the two of you burst into laughter.

That’s when you lean forward and kiss him, smashing your lips against his in a brief moment before he pushes you off.

Humiliation stings your chest and you almost start crying in an instant. The world before and the world today blur into one awful moment and you apologize for things you’re not even sure about. “I’m sorry, that was–stupid. I’m awful, I’m bad, I won’t do it again-”

“Shut up. You will do it again.”

Oh. What?

You blink up at him, stupidly, yes, but it’s a nice kind of stupid. The syrupy kind that only gets sweeter when his hand grips your chin and pulls you in. You don’t fight.

This time, he kisses you. His lips are chapped and so are yours, and your mouth opens awkwardly to let his tongue in. It feels wrong and right and for once, there’s nothing old that dredges itself up with the action. No ghost of Overhaul over your shoulder, no commands, no flashbacks to being locked in closets–

Just you and Shigaraki on his bed in the middle of the night, kissing.

–

You can be annoying. Too meak, too unsure; wanting him to guide you and taking too long when he tries to give direction.

You’re a burden, that’s for damn sure, but oh, he doesn’t want to let you go.

The thoughts of releasing you on the streets seem so dim now.

They faded every time you stumbled through eating food that wasn’t perfect by Overhaul’s stupid standards, every time you looked like a deer in headlights at the prospect of washing yourself, every time you suddenly got the ick at his room and scrubbed yourself raw until he stopped you…

You wanted to be better, though–better for him. That’s what sealed it. Well, that, and that kiss, even though it was mostly teeth the first time. He likes you better for that, he thinks. Because that was you.

You’d once told him that you were afraid Overhaul would remake you, so you remade yourself. And now he’s remaking you. No, that’s the wrong word, isn’t it? He’s unmaking. Undo what Overhaul did and find out what’s underneath, Because what’s underneath–you, the you he’s seeing as he peels away each layer of bullshit–belongs to him.

That’s how it should have been from the beginning. Too bad he didn’t find you first.

–

He’s been gone for longer than usual. Long enough that Toga came in with something to eat and played a round of cards with you. Long enough that daylight came and went and came back again, and the sound of morning birds does nothing but contrast with how groggy you feel.

It was too hard to fall asleep, when your stomach was tied up with worry.

They don’t unravel even when the door opens and he comes in, expression troubled, burdened. You know something about burdens. He smells of sweat and dust, and you long to lift it from him. He’s been… nice, hasn’t he? Nice and kinder, kinder than Overhaul, although his words are often short and he sometimes calls you stupid.

He takes a look at you, at the darkened circles under your eyes and maybe he can see all the thoughts swirling around in your head, and snorts. “Go to bed. You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I can stay up,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the bed. “To keep you company.”

He pauses, drops his coat on the chair. Something in him seems to soften and harden all at once. A vulnerable question left on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see which wait it will roll. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Words don’t come easily to you, even now. “I… like being around you.” It’s more than that, but you don’t know how to say it, how to peel it out from your mouth.

He eyes you with something that might be suspicion. “Don’t lie.”

At this, you stand. It feels better to stand, to be on something like stronger footing. “I’m not. I–I like that you let me do things. You don’t get mad if I eat what I want, or if I read certain books, or watch movies with you…”

He doesn’t respond and maybe it’s not words you need. Maybe it’s this–

Maybe it’s you taking a step forward and gripping his shirt and kissing him, just as awkwardly as the first time. This time, when he pushes you away, he keeps his fingers curled on your shirt. His eyes search yours and you don’t know what your expression is saying, but you try to make it say: You make me feel good and I want to make you feel good, too.

“Get on the mattress,” he tells you, but it doesn’t feel like an order. Maybe you’re sugarcoating it. Maybe not. In the end, you’re okay with it; you’re okay with turning around and crawling onto the mattress, knowing what he wants now.

It’s not how you envisioned it happening with him. You remember what you thought that first day, flashes of him taking you while you struggled and squirmed, pinning you to the bed. A villain in a book that Overhaul took away from your bookshelf.

It’s slower. Slower and maybe not sweet, exactly; but there’s some tenderness there that you can’t explain. Tenderness reflected in both your tired eyes, in the smell of dust clinging to his skin, in the way you cling to him and don’t have to worry that he’ll scrub his hands raw afterward.

Tenderness that makes you forget that Overhaul took you and now he took you, and you’re never sure if you’ll ever be your own person again.

–

When it’s over, he cleans you up. Slow but sure. It’s remarkably soft, but you don’t dare say so; if you did, you think he might push you off the mattress for good measure.

“Shigaraki–” you begin.

“Call me Tomura.” He interrupts.

“Tomura,” you say.

Something about that makes you want to cry, so you bury your head further against his chest and blink the tears away.

Later–not this morning and not for some time–you will think about whether Overhaul would have ever fucked you. What he might have thought about the mess of it all. The sweat and panting, the warm liquid between your legs that was carefully wiped away with a warm washcloth before he hopped back into bed.

For now, all you think about is Shigaraki–no, Tomura–who doesn’t tuck you into bed like you’re some precious doll but instead wraps his leg across your own, keeping you close on the mattress as sleep begins to overtake you.

His hand brushes against your hair as the world begins to turn into a formless buzz.

“Do you want to stay with me?” He asks.

It is, you know, a rhetorical question.

#yandere #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere bnha #yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #afterwitch writes

864 notes · View notes

letternotekisses · 7 months ago

Text

overwatch men react to you doing the ‘fake bj prank’ 🫦

Reinhardt pulls an almost adorably curious face when you suddenly drop to your knees in front of him, his mouth open in a small ‘o’ that soon turns into an excited grin once he catches sight of you tying up your hair. His hand instinctively comes to his belt - his cock growing stiff and heavy within moments, although his joy deflates almost instantaneously when you stand back up after ‘finding’ your ‘lost’ hairpin. He covers himself with a nearby sofa cushion and waves you off when you giggle and ask why he’s blushing.

Cassidy immediately gets comfortable, he knows the drill. Stubs out his cigar as quick as a flash and all but slams his Peacekeeper on the table beside him. It’s only when he realises you’re actually reaching for something you’d ‘dropped’ on the floor and not ripping his belt off wildly with your teeth does he stand there like an absolute melon. Don’t even ask him about it because he’ll simply lower his hat in shame and mourn over the loss of his cigar. That was Cuban. But you both know he’d forgo many more just for the chance of your perfect lips around his thick cock.

Genji is actually surprisingly hard to prank. If you try to ‘drop’ something or go to pick something up directly in front of him he’s much too quick to do it for you. Always the gentleman, but it grew almost annoying being unknowingly outsmarted by him every time. You had to get real creative with it - kneeling low and close to fiddle with the loops of his trousers gets him spluttering and looking around wildly for someone in the halls, before you pat his thigh and rise with a smile, claiming the new belt you’d got him looks so nice on. He’s adorably confused for a minute, before he mentally vowed to get you back. Although, you fear he may not get the point of the prank because you definitely had the best orgasm of your life after he was done with you. Sigh it’s the little things.

Hanzo raises a brow to you when you slide smoothly to your knees, your hands bundling your hair up until it’s tied back neatly. His back is stiffening the moment any part of you grazes his thigh and he instinctively reaches out to smooth the stray hair that escaped your grasp, the other hand settling upon the button of his waistcoat until…you’re giggling? And he sits back with a small embarrassed huff at his eagerness, a blush settling high on his sharp cheekbones. You pepper kisses all over his face to make it up to him and his fickle pride, which only makes him flush darker. He won’t stay mad for long, but similar to his brother - he’ll plan on getting even. Usually in the form of overstimulating you until you’re teary-eyed and whining or not letting you cum at all :-)

Junkrat is tittering with excitement the moment you walk into the room, let alone your little prank. As soon as you even try to get near him he’s jumping your bones and growling some nasty shit in your ear - you should have known that his insatiable nature would interfere with this. Oh well, might as well indulge him, hm? You don’t even get your dues either - as he’s too busy shimmying your trousers down your hips so he can get his daily taste of that pretty little cunt you were hiding away from him for so long.

Reaper is…not really the type of man you’d like to prank, but who says you’re any type of normal. It’s why he likes you. He won’t even let you finish your little prank because he knew what you were playing at from the start. He thumbs your head with his clawed gauntlet, a growling laugh low in his chest as his heavy cock rests on your face, pulsing hotly against your skin. Hey - you got yourself into this, but service him well enough and he’ll let you cum this time. Maybe? Who knows. He did like your attempt though! You should try and prank him more often if this is the outcome.

Lucio almost has a heart attack when you get to your knees - he had a concert due in ten minutes! But his cock betrays his best interest when it twitches to life and with ashamed (but not rly) delight he goes to fiddle with his trousers only to find…you were licking your thumb and wiping a smudge off of him. The poor guy actually almost beats himself up about assuming what you’re down there for until you explain to him with little giggles between kisses. You have a little something planned after his concert to cheer him up anyways.

Baptiste is like the largest gentleman at heart, so when you even dare squat down to even try and prank him he’s manhandling you so he can eat your pussy first. It gets weirdly competitive when you try to insist on it (so you can perform your epic awesome prank) so now you’re just 69ing. Wrong method right execution? You can’t really find yourself too bothered with Baptiste’s talented tongue deep in your cunt and his cock buried down your throat. Later, maybe. A man who insists his woman cums comes first is a man. Period.

Lifeweaver is too sweet about it to the point it might rot your fucking teeth out. It almost pains you to prank him because you just wanna suck the soul out of him through his dick. He doesn’t even blink when you’re ducking between his legs, or dropping things on purpose because he’ll just fucking help you pick them up. It’s almost infuriating so you instead take your frustrations out on actually blowing him instead. Niran palms your cheek with hands softer than aloe, his cock bulging your cheek as you swallow him deeper. Curse him and his magical body. You just wanna lick him all over.

Sigma is an intelligent man. You know it, he knows it, the ants on the ceiling probably fucking know it. That being said - he was convinced he’d memorised all of your mannerisms completely. So when he pushed back from his desk to greet you and you immediately dropped to your knees, bundling your hair up, he was happy to make quick work of his slacks. He is both humbled and down-crested to find it was a prank. He bundles you into his lap, murmuring nothings to you in Dutch. It’s enough to convince you to make it up to him - to warm his long cock with your perfect cunt while he works. Perfect. Try not to squirm…too much.

Roadhog yeah that ain’t gonna work on him. Not only does he have a sixth sense for when you (or Rat) are up to mischief, he also knows that you know he much prefers your sweet little pussy to your mouth. He thinks it’s worthy of a little punishment. Nothing too big, just something to keep you walking funny for a few days. (Good luck.)

Ramattra is very much accustomed to your human oddities by now, he’s grown tolerant of you (dare I say fond) enough to be unbothered by whatever you do. Treat him like a giant climbing frame for all he cares, you couldn’t make a dent. He knows exactly what you’re up to, and only when you’re whining for a scrap of his attention does he give it to you. Poor, sweet little human, begging for him? He’ll give you exactly what you crave, but you must remember that you asked for this when the silicone of his cock is buried impossibly deep in your tiny cunt, his cold, metal fingers splayed across the small of your back as he tuts down at you. Squirm all you want, Ramattra insists on taking his time with you.

Mauga won’t let you get off that easy either. He watches you go down with a grin that could rival the sharks back at Samoa. Watching you come back up has that smile dropping and an almost evilly mischievous glint appear in his eyes that has your panties just a tiny bit wet. In retrospect it was a good idea to prank him. In truth, when he has his fat, veiny cock buried down your throat and his meaty fingers deep inside of your cunt? It was a great idea. 10/10. In fact you should do it again.

Doomfist knows something is up the moment you tie your hair up because usually he just holds it back for you while he fucks your fac—oh. He quirks a brow at your giggles, but it’s not long until you’re quickly silenced. He soon has you riding his thigh with an intense desperation in your eyes as he thumbs your lip, cooing mockingly at the wet spot on his expensive suit trousers from where he’d kept you there so long. You cum when he thinks you’ve made it up to him, which might be a while, considering how much Akande seemed to be enjoying it, his chest reverberating with every pleased rumble. You’d think twice again next time about pranking the leader of Talon. (Probably…not.)

Also, PSA, if you don’t like my work, block me! Please don’t be negative and leave hate where it’s not needed.

2K notes · View notes

ooooo-mcyt · 2 months ago

Text

It's such a shame the Secret Soulmates thing is so often portrayed as Grian being selfish or vindictive for no reason because I think the actual events leading up to Grian's decision to seek out BigB are way more interesting than just "Grian's a selfish cheater". So like, because it's not covered much, I'm just going to detail the entire narrative from Grian's pov leading up to his decision to go to BigB.

For the first part of the first episode, Grian actually really seems to be romanticizing the idea of soulmates. Multiple times, he describes his search for his soulmate as "looking for love" and he hits everyone he meets with almost excited anticipation.

The moment Grian and BigB first look at each other is surprisingly romantic? I mean, it feels like what you'd expect from someone meeting their soulmate, from someone who just knows.

BigB and Scott finish testing if they're soulmates, and BigB is mid sentence when he turns around and look at Grian, and BigB just stops mid sentence and goes "Oh", which Grian echos (also when bigb looks at grian, grian holds his shield up for a good few seconds which just gives me the image of him hiding behind it and peering over the top which is uncharacteristically shy for grian but also really cute). "Are you ready?", BigB asks, and he waits for Grian to give him the go ahead before hitting him.

And..nothing. They aren't soulmates. BigB sounds disappointed. Grian sounds almost distraught, "I was so sure- I've never had such a broken heart in my life."

Shortly after Grian's soulmate takes significant damage. Everyone present rushes to give him food, though Grian would later credit BigB specifically with the very warm sentiment of having "saved" him.

And Grian's first meeting with Scar is..different.

Grian already doesn't seem to want to be Scar's soulmate, doesn't want to be teamed again, for one reason or another. And Scar..doesn't make it easier. Grian tries to talk to him, as the realization sets in, tries to say it, that they're soulmates. Grian does say it. But Scar isn't listening. Scar actively talks over Grian to brush Grian off, walking away while Grian is trying to grapple with the fact that they're soulmates.

Scar doesn't notice. Grian said it, mind you, in plain English- "Scar I think we're soulmates"- and Scar heard him, Scar responded to him, Scar just wasn't listening. Scar doesn't look for his soulmate, and he doesn't figure it out either for the rest of the episode. Grian tries to tell him twice more, and twice more Scar isn't listening. The first time, Grian calls after Scar twice as he's running off, "Scar I need to tell you something", but Scar doesn't turn around. The final time, Grian literally forces Scar to look at him and drops dripstone on their heads. Scar somehow still doesn't see him. Grian demands Scar look at him, actually look, this time, and finally, with great effort, he manages to get the point across.

One of Scar's first questions is "do we have to live together?", and Grian responds that it would be nice to, a sentiment Scar doesn't immediately echo. Grian pulls Scar along, back to the base Grian got working on by himself earlier.

At the start of the next episode, they have a disagreement. Scar brings home some pandas without consulting Grian, and Grian reacts very negatively, making a no pandas in the house rule and prompting Scar to help him with work instead. Grian specifically delegates the job of getting oak wood to Scar while Grian continues working on..everything else..himself. And after a bit of procrastinating from Scar, he does go to do his "chores" as Scar describes them.

Except that Scar doesn't actually.

Well, I mean, he does do the "chore" Grian gave him, but while he's out, he takes a break to think of a way to punish Grian, coming up with the idea of using powdered snow to hurt Grian as a punishment for Grian not letting the animals in the house and making Scar do a "chore". Grian doesn't technically know Scar did this on purpose, but with tick damage being a very distinctive type of damage that you usually would have to do on purpose to take as much as Scar did, I wouldn't be surprised if Grian figured it out.

It's at this point, that Grian decides to go to BigB. And it doesn't feel like he's just doing it for shallow reasons or to be mean, it fully checks out.

Because Grian's not happy with Scar at this point!

Partially because Scar himself doesn't seem interested in Grian at all, wouldn't listen to Grian to the point of talking over and brushing him off when Grian tried to tell him, and didn't want to live together after finding out. For Grian, who genuinely did seem to have a rather romantic view of soulmates at the start of the first episode, it probably kinda sucked to have his soulmate look past him like that. I can't fault Scar for not being particularly interested, but just because Scar didn't do anything technically wrong doesn't mean Grian's not allowed to be unhappy.

And then there's the other problem. The one I see surprisingly few fans talk about in regards to Scar and Grian. "Why does everyone else get a real partner except me?", Grian asked shortly before deciding to go to BigB. It's a sentiment we get from Grian multiple times. He says being Scar's partner is like babysitting, like having a toddler, Scar doesn't feel like a partner, he feels like a source of emotional labor who has no interest in lessening the burden for Grian. And. Yeah. Grian has good reason to feel like Scar makes him do all the labor in their relationship. I mean, Grian needed to get very pushy to even get Scar to agree to help build their shared base, Grian had to do the job of managing Scar on what specific task to do, Grian gave Scar a very small job comparative to the work Grian was doing around the house, and Scar still complained and found a way to punish Grian (the powdered snow) for "making" him do "chores" and not wanting animals in the house.

Which isn't to say Scar is bad or malicious or something, I love Scar, hell, I love Desert Duo, I think they work very well together in a lot of cases, but I think there is very much a labor imbalance- both in actual work and in emotional labor- here and it's understandably upsetting for Grian.

And in comparison, BigB looks..wonderful, to Grian?

BigB wanted him, for starters. They both felt it, the previous day. Scar kept looking through Grian, but BigB's eyes met Grian's and they both felt something. BigB seems considerate too. Grian feels like he has to pull teeth to get Scar to help him with the house (and then gets punished for it), meanwhile BigB is the one who "saved" Grian the previous day, jumping to give him food, not to mention the considerate gesture of BigB checking in to make sure Grian is ready before hitting him for the soulmate check. And, well, Grian clearly likes BigB.

Grian wasn't just going to someone else to be mean to Scar, and he didn't go for BigB just because he wanted someone, Grian was- validly!- unhappy with Scar (who didn't seem to want to be together much either) and actively liked BigB and thought he'd be a good partner.

Also, Grian very notably announces that he's defying destiny and asserts that he has a choice in who to be with, which adds a thematic layer of personal agency to the whole thing too. You get the impression Grian was mostly with Scar because he felt like he had to be, because the universe tied them together. But here Grian considers, for the first time, the thought that maybe it's okay to be with someone he wants, and who makes him happy, instead of resigning himself to be with the one he's 'supposed' to be with just because he's 'supposed' to.

(this idea of agency in who you love is relevant to double life as a whole, as i've made many posts about, but also is relevant to desert duo specifically. as much as i think they really cared about each other in third life, grian was also with scar because he was supposed to be for most of the season. being with scar had always, up to that point, been something grian was obligated to do, something grian didn't feel he had much choice in. so grian finally asserting here to the audience that he has a choice feels very relevant thematically.)

#trafficblr #traffic smp #double life smp #life series #grian #it's a traffic jam

835 notes · View notes

angelsheartts · 1 year ago

Text

୭ JEALOUSY ˚. ᵎᵎ ~

#pairing : lucifer, adam, alastor, angel dust, husk, valentino, vox, x gn reader.

#cw: jealousy?, +18 in valentino's/vox's part, suggestive content ig, cuss words lmao.

#notes: u guys don’t know how much i wanna know why lilith made a deal with adam, and how could she even fumbled lucifer.

⋆.ೃ- LUCIFER .

i don't think lucifer gets jealous easily, at least, but if he is jealous, he will surely become reallyyyy clingy and will try to show off. i mean, he's the sin of pride, after all.

being the partner of the king of hell really meant that there would always be people staring at you, even ones who had no shame at all and would flirt with you, sometimes even in front of lucifer.

"would you mind if I bought you a drink, sweetheart?" a powerful overlord asked you, making lucifer raise an eyebrow and look at the overlord with one of his annoyed characteristics expressions, and before you could even reply anything, lucifer had already bought you both the whole menu of drinks while clinging onto you. "do you think this is enough for you, (name)?" he asked, making the overlord stop bothering you both and making you gasp a soft sigh, knowing he did all of this with such an innocent face, as if he wasn’t getting annoyed just a second ago.

⋆.ೃ- ADAM .

his ego is too big for him to even consider the idea of being jealous, but boy, does he want to get rid of the fucking asshole who is talking to you.

even though you were adam's third wife/adam's first husband, you were nice to being around. not like your husband, who always made snarky comments about everything and everyone.

sometimes, though, people would flirt with you without you noticing, making your husband really irritated and dragging you away while flipping off the angel who initially flirted with you and making some snarky remarks about them. "(name), that bitch was literally fucking you with his eyes! you should have called me before, next time make sure to be around me, got it?" adam called out, making you giggle since his insults were sometimes so unexpected.

⋆.ೃ- ALASTOR .

alastor is the kind of guy who wouldn’t get jealous; maybe once an extermination you would see him acting a little possessive over you, but really, this guy knows your soul belongs to him, so why would there be a need to feel jealous?

actually, only your friends at the hazbin hotel where the only ones who knew about your relationship with alastor; it made sense, since he knew you could get in danger if someone else found out.

that didn’t meant that angel dust wouldn’t take the opportunity to flirt with you as a joke while trying to get a reaction from you. "(name), i think you would get pretty popular if you started to appear on my films" he said jokingly to you, while alastor just looked at him with his usual smile "i don’t think that (name) would want to get involved in that kind of stuff, angel dust, isn’t that right, dear?" alastor answered, kissing your cheek, and leaving you speechless since he mostly kept his affection for when the both of you where alone.

⋆.ೃ- ANGEL DUST .

for me, he may get jealous depending on who's hitting on you; if it’s some random imp, it won’t really bother him; he will just tell them to fuck off themselves and leave you alone, but if it’s someone like valentino, oh boy, he acts VERY different.

angel dust didn’t really like you being in the porn studios were he works, because he knows that valentino is waiting to say anything to you, and because he simply thinks you don’t belong in a place like that. he thinks you’re much better working at the hazbin hotel or wandering around the pride ring.

"(name), aren’t you a supportive one? you know that if you want, i could make you a star lik-" "val, we're on set soon" angel dust spoke, looking angrily at valentino. "well, looks like your little boyfriend doesn’t want me to talk to you; i’m sure we’ll have plenty of time the next time," valentino whispered, making you stand there awkwardly.

as you both were finally at the hazbin hotel, anthony asked you not to come next time, since he really didn’t want valentino talking to you ever again. "(name), you know i really don’t want to get you in trouble, and you know that outside of the studio we can do whatever the fuck we want, but still, thanks for the snack you brought." he said, smirking, and letting you cuddle into his arms like you always do after an exhausting day.

⋆.ೃ- HUSK .

husk would only get jealous or, well, mostly, frustrated if someone interrupted you both, like if you both are just having a wholesome moment and someone just steals your attention from him, he’s a cat after all AND will be grumpy afterward.

you were having a nice chat with husk while having a drink at his bar, but as he was explaining you something, alastor came along and asked you something between the lines of 'if you had seen charlie or vaggie' since he had to talk to them about some business about the hazbin hotel.

after alastor left, you turned to look at your partner, noticing how he had been growling this entire time. it wasn’t really loud, though. "tsk, that radio demon really needed to ruin the atmosphere," he said, making you give him a look "what? you know, i dislike the idea of him thinking that he can just do whatever he pleases with my stuff." hearing your partner's words, you knew you had to reassure him that even though alastor had interrupted you both, your attention was still set on him and no one else.

⋆.ೃ- VALENTINO .

he’s valentino, he surely and kind of obviously gets jealous whenever you’re talking to someone that isn’t him.

the workers in the studio know that since you worked there, you've only filmed with valentino; nobody questions why, and nobody really cares whatever reason their boss has to not let you fuck with others.

today, though, a worker intended to jokingly flirt with you. "(name), i think that if we make a video together, even the most pure souls would want to watch it" oh, well, that wasn’t even a little funny to valentino.

"such a slut for me, mmh? you really thought my sweet (name) would even think about fucking with you?" valentino smirked, while thrusting into you. he had his eyes set on the demon who flirted with you, not even caring about the fact that he was on set.

⋆.ೃ- VOX .

this man has the same jealousy problems, or even worse, than valentino. he's actually such an attention whore, so he obviously would despise everyone who tries to flirt with you.

actually everyone who works for the vees knows how jealous vox is, and that’s because this is a situation that often happens: if someone is even looking at you a little longer than usual, he will become insecure and try ANYTHING he can so he can have your attention on him. like i mentioned, he’s an attention whore.

today, the outfit that velvette chose for you might have made some people stare back at you. i mean he can’t judge them; you looked so fucking good in it, but hell does he want to have you all by himself, so what does he does? take you to his office so he can have you all by himself.

"(name)," he mutters while keeping his hands all over your body. "you knew what you were doing, huh? making everyone stare at your body, but i’m such a good partner for not making a fuss about it, right?" he asked, waiting for you to atleast praise him, 'cause like a already mentioned he’s an attention wh- lmao.

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel adam #alastor #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #valentino #hazbin hotel vox #female reader #gn reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #jealousy #smut

3K notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 8 days ago

Text

Girl at Home

Pairing: Andrea Kimi Antonelli x Chiara Battista (Original Character)

Summary: When Chiara finally kisses him back—and then really kisses him back—Kimi’s carefully calibrated emotional control vanishes faster than tire grip in Miami.

Notes: Part 2 of So High School. This was supposed to be an one shot y'know...

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Chiara had been pacing near the front window for exactly eleven minutes.

Not because she was nervous. She was just… adjusting her earrings. Repeatedly. And triple-checking that her dress wasn’t wrinkled. And definitely not panicking over the fact that Kimi Antonelli—yes, actual rookie F1 driver, technical prodigy, the boy who once asked her for a pencil and accidentally stole her heart—was picking her up for their first date.

At precisely 6:28 p.m., she heard it.

Not a knock. Not a doorbell.

An engine.

A loud one.

She peeked through the blinds—and then immediately pulled back, eyes wide. "Oh my god."

Outside, parked with the subtlety of a blockbuster premiere, was a matte blue Mercedes AMG GT63, low and sleek and aggressive, like something a Bond villain would drive.

Her father passed behind her with a cup of coffee and muttered, “If he drives that thing like he’s got something to prove, he won’t have a girlfriend by dessert.”

Chiara opened the door a second later, trying to school her face into polite composure. “You’re early.”

Kimi grinned from the driver's seat, one arm slung casually over the wheel like he hadn’t just pulled up in the most ridiculous car imaginable. “I was too nervous to wait at home.”

He jumped out and opened her door like a gentleman—a slightly sweaty, very overdressed gentleman. His hair was still damp from a too-hasty shower, and he smelled faintly like aftershave and leather car seats.

“You look—” he started, then paused, clearly panicking mid-compliment. “You look like you’re better at this than I am.”

Chiara laughed, climbing into the passenger seat. “Nice car. You brought that?”

Kimi shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, suddenly very interested in the gravel on her driveway. “It’s… new.”

“New as in you bought it, or new as in it was delivered with your F1 contract and a bow?”

He cleared his throat. “There may have been a bow.”

Chiara raised an eyebrow, amused. “Do I need a helmet?”

“Not tonight,” Kimi said, suddenly serious. “I’m on my best behavior.”

And he was.

He didn’t speed. He didn’t weave through traffic. He didn’t even rev the engine at a red light, which might have been a personal record.

In fact, he drove so politely that Chiara side-eyed him somewhere near the first roundabout and muttered, “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Andrea Kimi Antonelli?”

“I’m being respectful,” he said, with dignity. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“I’m wearing sneakers with the dress.”

“Same point.”

Dinner was at a quiet little trattoria tucked between two bookshops—his choice. Kimi, who usually lived off race-weekend catering and Ollie’s stolen granola bars, had somehow found the cutest restaurant in a three-mile radius and even remembered to make a reservation.

She noticed he didn’t touch his phone once.

Not when it buzzed in his pocket. Not when someone clearly recognized him near the front counter and whispered something excitedly to their friend. Not even when the waiter asked if they wanted a dessert menu and Chiara ordered the tiramisu and the panna cotta without shame.

He just looked at her, smiling like he couldn’t believe she was real.

(Chiara tried very hard not to notice.)

After dinner, they walked to the tiny movie theater two blocks away, the kind with velvet seats and too much charm, where the popcorn came in paper bags and there was always at least one older couple on a date night.

They saw a re-run of La La Land, which Kimi absolutely didn’t understand but watched attentively anyway, sitting so still she thought he might have stopped breathing during the planetarium scene.

Halfway through, their hands brushed on the armrest.

Chiara didn’t move hers away.

He glanced at her.

She didn’t look at him.

Their fingers curled together like it was muscle memory.

When he walked her to her front door, the silence between them was sweet, charged. Not awkward. Just… full.

The drive back to her house was quiet—but not in the awkward way.

It was that soft, sleepy kind of silence that settles after a good night. Streetlights passed in a golden blur outside the windows, the low hum of the AMG engine filling the spaces between their thoughts.

Kimi glanced at her at a red light.

She was leaning her head back against the seat, watching the city roll past like it belonged to her. Her hand was still in his, their fingers loosely tangled across the center console like neither of them quite wanted to let go.

“I had a really good time,” he said, voice low.

Chiara smiled without looking at him. “You were… alarmingly well-behaved.”

“I told you I could drive like a normal person.”

“You signaled at a roundabout, Kimi.”

“Romantic gestures come in many forms.”

She laughed, and his heart stuttered in the best way.

Outside her building, he parked with exaggerated care, triple-checked the handbrake, and turned to her with the nervous energy of someone trying to seem cooler than he felt.

He walked her to the door, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

She stopped just before the steps and turned toward him. The porch light was casting a soft glow across her hair, and Kimi felt like he was looking at the sun.

“Well,” she said, a little teasing, “no near-death experiences. Good food. Minimal popcorn theft. You’ve passed.”

“I studied hard,” he said, smiling.

She stepped forward, closer now.

“I had a good time too,” she added. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Kimi shifted slightly, suddenly nervous. “I mean, I didn’t know if this would be… weird. Like, going from worksheets to this.”

“It’s not weird,” she said, softly. “It’s… nice.”

They stood there for a beat. Close. Still.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, voice softer now. “You were… incredibly well-behaved.”

Kimi let out a breathless laugh. “I practiced. Like… a lot. In my head.”

Chiara tilted her head. “And do you usually rehearse your goodnight lines too?”

Kimi opened his mouth. Closed it. “I had… three options. All of them sound stupid now.”

She smiled.

“You can just kiss me,” she said. “If you want.”

He looked at her like she’d just handed him a trophy he hadn’t dared dream about.

And then he leaned in.

No panic this time. No overthinking. Just warm fingers brushing her cheek and a kiss that was sweet and unhurried and full of all the quiet things he hadn’t known how to say.

Chiara’s hands curled into his jacket like she’d been waiting to do that for weeks.

He kissed her like he didn’t want to let her go.

And when they pulled apart, barely an inch between them, she was smiling—dizzy and flushed and completely gone.

“So,” she whispered, breath catching, “are you always this good at first dates?”

Kimi grinned, absolutely wrecked with happiness. “No. Just this one.”

She kissed him again.

When they finally pulled apart, her eyes fluttered open slowly, and he didn’t move far.

Then she stepped back toward her door, pausing just before slipping inside.

“Goodnight, Kimi.”

“Goodnight, Chiara.”

She lingered one second longer, smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Then the door closed behind her with a soft click.

Kimi just stood there on the porch, staring at the door like an idiot.

And whispered, “I’m so screwed.”

Then practically floated back to the car.

***

It was a sunny, sticky kind of morning—the kind where everyone moved slower, more tired than usual, as if spring had arrived just to make them sweat. The courtyard buzzed with the usual low-grade pre-class chaos: students lounging on the steps, trading last-minute homework corrections, someone blasting music faintly from their phone.

Chiara adjusted the strap of her backpack and turned to look over her shoulder, where Kimi was parking his scooter like he was auditioning for a car commercial. He took his helmet off, ruffled his curls, and jogged over to her like the day wasn’t already too hot to be that energetic.

“You remembered your math binder?” she asked as he caught up, teasing.

“I remembered you,” he replied, grabbing her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chiara’s breath caught.

It wasn’t the first time they’d held hands. Not really. But it was the first time here. At school. In daylight. In full view of every student on campus, including the ones who hadn’t even known they spoke to each other outside class.

Her heart was doing this annoying fluttery thing again.

But she didn’t let go.

They walked toward the building together, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand, and Chiara didn’t look around until they were halfway to the main hall and she noticed something strange.

People were staring.

Not in a mean way. More like… blinking. Processing. A few whispered too loudly, and a girl from biology class actually did a double take so dramatic it nearly made her trip on the steps.

And then—

“Wait, wait, hold on,” came Giulia’s voice, slicing through the noise like a spoon through gelato.

Chiara turned just as Giulia stormed across the courtyard in wide strides, eyes huge, clementine nowhere in sight for once.

“Are you holding hands with Kimi Antonelli?”

Kimi raised their joined hands like it was evidence in court. “Confirmed.”

Giulia looked between them. Once. Twice. Her brain visibly short-circuited.

“But—I—what?”

Chiara arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“No!” Giulia flailed slightly. “No. I mean, yes. I mean—how long has this been going on?”

Chiara smiled, just a little. “A while.”

Giulia looked personally offended. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“You said he was using me for worksheets.”

Kimi snorted, completely unbothered. “I would’ve failed three subjects just to keep talking to her.”

Giulia blinked. “I was trying to protect you!”

“I know,” Chiara said, gentle now. “But you were wrong.”

Kimi gave her a small squeeze. Their hands stayed together, warm and solid and completely obvious.

Giulia narrowed her eyes at him. “If you break her heart, I will break your face.”

“That’s fair,” Kimi said easily.

Chiara laughed. Giulia groaned and stomped off, muttering something about dramatic people and how she was never going to live this down.

Kimi leaned closer as they stepped into the hallway. “That went well.”

“I think she might be having a crisis.”

“She’s not the only one. Did you see Enrico’s face? I think he dropped his sandwich.”

“Your fault,” Chiara said, deadpan.

“I know,” Kimi replied, smiling sideways at her like he was still slightly in disbelief. “But I like the view from here.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks warm.

But she didn’t let go of his hand.

Not even once.

***

The terminal was loud in that strange, hollow way airports always were—echoes of wheels on tile, distant boarding calls, someone’s baby crying three gates over. Kimi Antonelli had headphones around his neck, a hoodie pulled up over his curls, and a carry-on slung over his shoulder that was 30% race gear, 20% protein bars, and 50% badly folded hoodies.

He had time to kill before boarding.

Normally he would’ve scrolled through sector data. Or texted Ollie something unhinged about the last sprint weekend. Or found a quiet corner to panic about Miami corner exits.

But instead, he found himself drifting into one of those sleek little airport gift shops.

It wasn’t planned. It never was, with her.

He didn’t go in thinking I should buy Chiara something—it just happened. Like most things with her lately.

He walked past keychains and overpriced Toblerone bars and wandered toward the little glass case near the register, half-distracted, until something caught the corner of his eye.

A delicate silver necklace.

Simple chain. Tiny charm.

A star.

Small enough to fit on her collarbone. Soft enough that it didn’t scream anything too loud. Not flashy. Not cheesy. Just… her.

Something about it felt right. Like a thing she’d keep in her pencil case. Like a secret.

He stared at it for a long second.

Then waved down the cashier like a man on a mission.

“Can I see that one?” he asked, pointing. “The star.”

It came in a small navy box, matte and ribboned and stupidly elegant for something from a duty-free gift shop.

He paid in cash. Tucked the box carefully into the zippered inside pocket of his backpack. Patted it once, like a promise.

And when he texted her from the gate five minutes later—

Kimi A.: Boarding now. Will miss you for approximately all hours of the next five days.

—he didn’t say anything about the necklace.

Not yet.

He wanted to give it to her in person.

***

Ollie Bearman had barely taken a sip of his coffee before Kimi Antonelli flopped into the chair next to him with all the subtlety of a race restart in the rain.

“She kissed me,” Kimi said breathlessly, like he’d been holding it in since sunrise.

Ollie blinked, mid-sip. “…Good morning to you, too.”

“I’m serious. She kissed me,” Kimi repeated, eyes wide, hands flailing slightly like the words alone weren’t enough to contain the magnitude of the event. “Well, technically, I kissed her first. But then she said ‘do it again,’ and I did, and then her mom brought us biscotti, and I think I blacked out a little because I haven’t stopped smiling since Tuesday.”

Ollie set his cup down slowly and carefully, like he was worried the caffeine might accelerate the madness. “Okay. So we’re in love now?”

“Yes.”

“Like—mutually?”

Kimi nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

“Not just in your head?”

“She said it with her mouth, Ollie. Multiple times. There were words. And kissing.”

Ollie squinted at him. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Kimi said, grinning like a lunatic. “She made me tea. I love her.”

Ollie stared at him for a moment. Then said, very carefully, “Alright. That escalated.”

“We had a date,” Kimi went on, hands already gesturing again, like he was narrating a podium finish. “Like a real one. I picked her up, opened the car door like an actual gentleman, drove like a sane person—used my indicators, Ollie—and took her to this little restaurant my nonna likes.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. “So you didn’t drift into the parking lot?”

“I parked. Backwards. Smooth. Perfectly aligned.”

“I’m genuinely terrified of who you’ve become.”

“And then,” Kimi continued, undeterred, “we went to a movie, and I bought popcorn even though we were full, and I waited a whole hour before trying to hold her hand because I’m a respectable man, and then at the end of the night she kissed me again.”

“You’re glowing,” Ollie said, deadpan, picking his coffee back up. “You look like a Disney princess.”

“I feel like one,” Kimi sighed, head falling back against the wall, a dreamy look on his face that made Ollie physically cringe.

“I hate you,” Ollie said mildly. “But also? Congratulations. You somehow fumbled your way into the softest, most romantic high school relationship in motorsport history.”

Kimi beamed. “I’m gonna marry her.”

“You’ve been dating for a week.”

“I’ve been in love for six months.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ollie muttered, staring into his coffee like it might offer him an exit strategy. “I’m putting a helmet on just to be near you.”

Kimi only grinned wider, the kind of grin that couldn’t be contained by race suits or track limits.

Love looked stupid on him.

But it also looked really, really good.

***

Toto Wolff was halfway through reading an engine temperature report, brow slightly furrowed and espresso cooling by his elbow, when Kimi Antonelli stormed into the Mercedes hospitality unit like a springtime thunderstorm wearing sunglasses and way too much emotional momentum.

“Toto.”

The teenager dropped into the seat across from him with all the coordination of a driver exiting the pit lane too hot—coffee nearly sloshed in its cup, data sheets rustled, and Toto didn’t even look up.

“Did you remember your math assignment?”

“No. Better.” Kimi leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice hushed like he was about to share state secrets. “She kissed me.”

That got his attention.

Toto blinked, lowering the report slowly. He peered over the top of his reading glasses like a man who regretted asking the question in the first place.

“Chiara?”

Kimi nodded, eyes bright, like he’d just won Monaco on foot. “Twice. Technically three times if you count the goodbye kiss, but the third was more of a soft-lean moment and her mom was in the hallway with biscotti, so it was kind of spiritual.”

Toto stared at him for a beat. Then exhaled and leaned back in his chair, expression caught somewhere between fond exasperation and something dangerously close to amusement.

“Alright,” he said. “Give me the briefing.”

“It was perfect,” Kimi declared immediately. “Like—quiet, private, just us working on the project and then boom, full emotional breakthrough. She thought I didn’t actually care. Can you believe that? Me!” He pointed at himself as if Toto had forgotten who he was. “I panicked and kissed her and she kissed me back and then asked me to do it again.”

“And did you?”

“Toto. I nearly cried.”

Toto pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to be completely useless this weekend, aren’t you?”

“I slept four hours last night because I kept replaying it in my head like onboard footage.”

“You do know there’s a sprint qualifying tomorrow.”

“I’m aware. I’ve never been more focused in my life. I’m in love. I’m unbeatable.”

Toto tried not to smile. He really, really tried.

“She called me brilliant,” Kimi added, like the word still echoed in his chest. “Not even about racing. She meant it in the human way. Like—brilliant, as a person. I didn’t even know what to do with that.”

Toto cleared his throat. “Well. That’s… very nice.”

“It’s life-altering,” Kimi said earnestly. “I brought her a necklace from the airport gift shop. It’s got a tiny charm. I saw it in the store and I just thought of her.”

Toto rubbed his temples. “Christ. He’s gone.”

“I asked if she wanted to come to the next race,” Kimi went on, now completely oblivious to the way Toto was slowly dying inside. “She said yes. We might hold hands. In public. I’m not okay.”

“No,” Toto agreed. “You are clearly not okay.”

Kimi looked like someone who had been struck by lightning and was thriving. His curls were a little too windswept. His hoodie collar was slightly askew. And his face was open, lit up, unguarded in a way Toto wasn’t used to seeing from boys who spent their lives measured in lap times and pressure compounds.

There was a pause.

Then Kimi beamed. “Do I seem different?”

“You seem delirious.”

“I think I’m glowing.”

“You need to hydrate.”

Kimi leaned forward, lower lip tugged between his teeth like he was holding in a full victory speech. “Toto, you were right.”

Toto sighed, already knowing what was coming. “I usually am.”

“Thank you for telling me to talk to her.”

Toto raised a hand, already done. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t crash during FP1.”

Kimi nodded solemnly. “I’ll win this whole weekend for her.”

Toto gave him a look that said God, please don’t try anything dramatic.

But Kimi was already halfway out of his chair, practically vibrating with joy.

As he bounced out of the room, sunglasses crooked and earbuds already in, Toto just stared after him and picked up his espresso.

He sipped it in silence.

“Teenagers,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Worse than tire degradation.”

*** Peter Bonnington had worked with world champions, legends, egos the size of pit walls, and drivers who wouldn’t say more than five words across a whole season.

He thought he’d seen everything.

Then he met Kimi Antonelli. Specifically: Kimi Antonelli in love.

“Okay, engine modes look good, tire temps are holding steady,” Bono said, flipping through his notes as he leaned against the garage wall. “We’ll run the new setup from FP1. Any questions?”

Kimi nodded, fully suited up, helmet tucked under one arm.

Then he hesitated.

“…Do you think it’s a stupid idea?” he asked.

Bono didn’t look up. “No, the rear wing adjustment is fine.”

“No, I mean the necklace.”

That made Bono look up.

“What necklace.”

“The one I got her. It’s got a little star on it. Like, subtle. Classy. Minimalist. From the airport gift shop but the expensive side.”

Bono exhaled, adjusting the tablet in his lap. “Kimi. We are literally in a pre-sprint quali run plan briefing.”

“I know,” Kimi replied, clearly in a state of romantic emergency, “but it’s burning a hole in my backpack. It’s wrapped and everything. I even kept the tiny tissue paper.”

Bono blinked. “Is this for the girl from school?”

“Chiara,” Kimi confirmed solemnly, like Bono should have memorized her name by now. “She likes green highlighters. And me, apparently.”

Bono closed his eyes for one long, prayerful second.

“We are about to go out for Sprint Qualifying,” he said, voice patient. “And you are asking me about jewelry?”

Kimi shrugged helplessly. “It’s not just jewelry. It’s meaningful.”

“To her?”

“I hope so.”

“To you?”

“She’s the only reason I passed Ethics.”

Bono sighed. “Look. If she likes you—and I cannot believe I’m saying this with a headset on and tire data in front of me—then it won’t matter where the necklace came from. If it’s thoughtful, she’ll love it.”

Kimi’s whole face lit up like he’d just put it on pole.

“You really think so?”

“I think,” Bono said, straightening up and pointing toward the car, “if you don’t get in that car right now, I’m going to call Toto and tell him you’re emotionally compromised.”

Kimi was already climbing in. “Too late,” he called. “I’ve been emotionally compromised since she kissed me next to a tray of biscotti.”

Bono muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I worked with Hamilton and never had to deal with this much romance.”

The car fired up.

Bono checked his comms.

Kimi’s voice came through crystal clear.

“Bono?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“Thanks.”

Bono sighed again—louder this time.

“Go out and put it on pole, Romeo. Then maybe you can give her the whole jewelry section.”

“Copy that,” Kimi replied, voice back to full grin. “For Chiara.”

Bono sighed as he switched channels. “I miss the days when teenage drivers just worried about tire warm-up.”

***

She told herself she wasn’t going to check.

She’d promised herself that this weekend — just this one weekend — she’d let it go. She’d go for a walk, make tea, maybe do some revision like a normal person whose boyfriend wasn’t out there throwing a car into corners at 300 km/h in front of the entire world.

But by the time SQ3 started, Chiara was sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop open, live timing glowing like it held all her oxygen.

She told herself she just wanted to see how it went.

Just a peek.

Just a— “Oh my God,” she whispered, sitting straighter.

Sector 1: purple. Sector 2: purple. Sector 3—

“Are you kidding me,” she breathed, clutching a cushion to her chest.

P1.

Kimi Antonelli. Pole. In Miami. Sprint Qualifying.

The commentators were yelling. The team radio crackled through her speakers. She could barely hear it over the sound of her own heart.

“YES, Kimi! That’s pole! Brilliant job, mate—brilliant lap!”

Chiara couldn’t stop smiling. It hit her like a wave, dizzy and warm and so full of pride she could barely sit still.

She watched the onboard feed as he crossed the line, saw the little fist pump, the boyish grin he tried to hide behind the visor. Then she saw him roll into parc fermé, helmet off, curls wild, smile stupidly wide.

And in that moment, it hit her all over again.

That was her person.

The boy who drank her tea, wore mismatched socks, asked her for French homework at midnight, and kissed her like she was gravity.

And now he’d put it on pole.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, flopping back onto the couch, half-laughing. “I’m gonna have to start watching every session.”

Her phone buzzed beside her.

Kimi A.:🏁✨🤯🏆😳 (i did the thing) you watching?

Chiara B.:Of course. I screamed. I may never recover.

Kimi A.:good. that one was for you.

She stared at the message for a second longer, then pressed her phone to her chest.

She wasn’t breathing properly. She wasn’t sure she cared.

***

She wasn’t expecting him until later.

So when the knock came just past seven, she was still in leggings and an oversized hoodie (his, technically), hair scraped into a bun, halfway through reorganizing her bookshelf. She padded barefoot to the door and opened it—

And there he was.

Kimi Antonelli, post-Miami, sun-touched and sleep-deprived, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair still messy from the flight, and looking at her like he hadn’t breathed properly in days.

“Hi,” he said softly.

Chiara blinked. “You’re early.”

“Couldn’t wait.”

She smiled before she could stop herself and stepped aside. He dropped his bag by the door and wrapped his arms around her like it was instinct. Like this was home.

They stood like that for a moment — just pressed close, no rush, no need for words.

Eventually, Kimi pulled back slightly, hands still warm on her waist.

“I got you something,” he said, suddenly shy.

Her brows lifted. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know. But I saw it before the flight and I thought of you. And then I panicked and bought it and kept it in my backpack all weekend and didn’t tell anyone because it felt… special.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny, crinkled paper bag. Unwrapped it carefully, fingers unusually gentle, until a delicate silver chain pooled in his palm. Hanging from it: a small star charm. Simple. Subtle. Perfect.

“It reminded me of you,” he said.

Chiara’s breath caught. “Kimi…”

“You don’t have to wear it,” he said quickly. “I just—I saw it and thought, that’s her. I know it’s not fancy or whatever. But it felt right.”

She looked at the necklace, then at him.

And smiled — slow and radiant and utterly undone.

“Put it on me?” she asked.

His fingers were careful at the clasp, brushing her neck, lingering just a second too long. When he sat back, the charm gleamed gently against her collarbone.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered.

Kimi looked at her like she’d just put him back together.

Then leaned forward, kissed her slow, and breathed the words into her skin:

“You’re my favorite part of coming home.”

#kimi Antonelli fanfiction #formula 1 #kimi Antonelli #kimi Antonelli fic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #kimi Antonelli fluff #k12 fanfiction #kimi Antonelli imagine #kimi Antonelli x reader #ka12 x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #ka12 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid fanfiction

583 notes · View notes

pagesfromthevoid · 2 months ago

Note

saw your bob post and decided to say my thoughts🙏

he’s definitely submissive (or at the very least, not dominant). i love the thought of him reaching out to hold readers hand when he’s getting overwhelmed, pretty whimpers leaving his mouth as they play w his dick🤤 also imagining him desperate to suck on ur tongue as he dry humps ur thigh—

okay i’ll chill out now but gahdayum he is FINE😛

These can combined I think 👀

But listen. I think for the first like, six months? Maybe the first year —he’s definitely not confident enough to be the one that makes any kind of move. I don’t want to give him a label as dominate or submissive because they just…don’t work for him. He’s a broken guy —he’s healing, he’s being helped —but it’s hard. Smut below the cut:

He would, however, crave physical touch. Especially because he’s so scared that if he touches anyone, they’ll be trapped a shame room and he doesn’t wish that on anyone.

He especially doesn’t want that to happen to you.

But you’re patient, and kind. And you don’t seem to mind that he’s always as close as he can be without actually touching you (he has no sense of personal space, which annoys everyone except you, Yelena and Alexei. The others will politely remind him to step away just a bit, and he’s totally okay with that).

Bob likes his little book nook, but he also likes your room. It’s warmly lit, and smells good, and it just feels like a welcoming place. So if he’s not in his corner, he’s usually sitting on the floor of your room, reading, while you lay in bed and scroll through your phone.

His back aches, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s fine where he’s at, and he doesn’t want to get up and leave. Or disrupt the serene quiet of your room. But he shifts, and his back cracks and he lets out a groan.

You roll over onto your stomach and look down at him, brow raised. “You good?”

He nods frantically, apologizing for being loud. But you wave it off. “You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know. You can come sit on the bed. I won’t bite unless you ask.”

He flushes at the comment, looking down for a moment. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about you putting your lips on him —but he knew better than to act on anything. It just…it wasn’t safe.

You pat the bed, drawing his attention again, and he stands up with his book. You scoot over, closer to the wall, and smile up at him patiently. Bob swallows hard and slips into your bed, brushing against you just barely. Even that touch —barely there, barely anything —sends a shiver through him. It had been so long since he was close to someone.

Yeah, the team had hugged him when they stopped Void. But that was a safety kind of thing. And it was nice, but he was scared of dying at that point. There was a difference between safety touching and intimacy and he…he really wanted that. With you.

The comfortable silence takes over again, and after a while you both end up engrossed in your own activities. Bob is focused on his book —sort of. Every time you move or adjusted your position, you got slightly closer. Touched him a little more. And he was distracted by thoughts of how you would feel on top of him. Not even in a sexual way; just…your weight, pressed against him, safe and close.

He freezes when your head falls to his shoulder. Nothing bad happens —no shame spirals, no nightmares. But you’re asleep, phone loosely sitting in your hand, and he considers if he should wake you up. But the selfish part of him —the touch starved part —decides to let you lay against him.

Though you adjust again, and push yourself further down into your pillows. Bob doesn’t want you to move but lets you do whatever you want to be comfortable. Except your cheek presses against his thigh, your head finding itself in his lap.

He panics. You’re so close. So warm. And he doesn’t know what to do with his book because it was in his lap but now you are. So he sets it down, folding his hands over his chest because he doesn’t know what to do. You’re actually asleep —breathing soft and even —and he really doesn’t want to wake you up.

So cautiously, he rests a hand on your back. When you don’t stir, he draws circles into your T-shirt in a way he hopes is soothing. His other hand plays with a strand of your hair, trying to keep himself from panicking. He worries you can hear how hard his heart is beating, because he’s pretty sure it’s going to explode out of his chest at any moment. But you don’t wake, and you both lay there for a long time.

He loses track of time; enough so that he’s starting to doze off himself. But you adjust again, just barely, and your hand rests under your cheek on his thigh and he almost jolts up from the touch.

You’re asleep. You’re not…you’re not purposely trying to touch him like this, he knows that, but he can’t help it. You’re so close, and so warm, and nothing bad has happened since you fell asleep. His head falls back into your pillows, trying to think of anything besides how close your hand and mouth are to his cock, but even trying to think about other things leads back to that thought, and there’s nothing he can do but try to adjust away the hard on he’s sporting.

Maybe he can slip a pillow into his lap. Then you have something to lay on and something to hide in case you wake up. But when he moves to take a pillow from behind him, you stir snd yawn. And then he really panics because he knows you’re awake —hyperaware of your eyelashes brushing against his leg as you blink away sleep.

“Oh,” you yawn, though you don’t move away from him. Actually, he swears to god, you move your hand even closer. “I’m sorry —I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s uh, it’s totally fine,” he practically whimpers, swallowing hard. Shaking his head. “Not your fault.”

“I think this is though,” you murmur, brushing your hand just barely over the bulge in his sweats. Bob buckles, his fingers tangling into your shirt as you glance up at him. “Do you…can I help you out?”

“God, please,” he begs, nodding frantically as you slowly run your hand over his clothed cock. He’s breathing hard, and he probably sounds like an idiot. But he can’t help it. Even through his clothes, your touch is soft and enticing and he just. He wants more. But he can’t bring himself to ask. “Anything. Please, you can —anything.”

“Don’t say that,” you laugh softly, sitting up some to look up at him. Your hand dances along the edge of his waist band. “‘Anything’ is a lot of power.”

“Anything,” he insists, lower stomach contracting some as your fingers slip under and against his skin.

But your touch is gone too soon, and he whines as he opens his eyes. You haven’t gone far —actually, on the contrary. You’re sitting up on your knees and straddling his lap. Just like he’d imagined before —your weight pressed against his body was wonderful. He’s hesitant to touch you, afraid he’ll do something wrong, but you take hands and hold them against your hips.

“You’re allowed to touch me, Bob,” you promise, letting go of his hands. He cautiously squeezes your hips as you reach up to take his face in your hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Please,” he pleads, and without thinking about it, he’s pulling you in by your hips as you close the distance between you both.

He doesn’t care if he’s coming off as desperate or pathetic. Your mouth on his is even better than he could have imagined. Your hands in his hair could have been heaven. But when you press yourself down into his clothed cock, he whimpers. He feels your smile against his mouth, and you press down harder and grind yourself against him. He opens his mouth and pushes his hips up to meet yours, and you take full advantage of his open mouth to slide your tongue against his.

Bob wants to melt into your touch. Your hands tugging at his hair, your teeth nipping at his lips, and your body pressing against his —he’s not even sure when it happens, because he’s too focused on every little touch. But he groans, holding you tight by your hips against him as he cums in his pants.

“Oh god,” he sighs, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know if it’s from all of this or embarrassment. “I’m —shit, I’m sorry —I didn’t —,”

But you’re grinning at him, pressed against him still, but your hand is running through his hair. “It’s okay. That’s what I wanted.”

He pulls back, looking up at you and the teasing grin on your face.

Yeah. You could do whatever you wanted to him and he’d thank you for it, he decides in that moment.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #sentry #sentry x reader #bob reynolds smut

833 notes · View notes

rottingghosty · 3 months ago

Text

Little Talks | DC X DP

part second part to the ghostling au !! this is just something to give you guys food while i write the fic

also usual errors will be made im only one person blah blah. hope you enjoy, as usual this is scheduled to post at 7am

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny lazily blinked at the person in front of him, his brain slowly rebooting itself as he released a small yawn. The person was green. A green person. Huh. Alien? He was exhausted, he spent so long aiding new systems and cradling stars that died and spread their dust around so they would be reborn again. He wanted to sleep but this person was in front of him and it’d be rude to ignore him. Pandora taught him better than that.

“Mrrp?” Danny felt his ears twitch, he wanted to feel mortified at the fact he made a sound like a cat in his own head but he really can’t be blamed because the moon he was around was really comfortable and he had no shame. He lazily tilted his head as the person’s shoulders seemed to loosen? A shake in his body. Weird.

Oh. He’s trying not to laugh at Danny’s response. Can Clockwork rewind so that didn’t happen. Of course CW ignored him like usual when it came to embarrassments like these.

“I do not mean any harm friend.”

The voice in his head echoed and it made Danny shiver in response, it was odd sharing a head space with someone else. He didn’t retaliate or cause any harm. His core could feel that this person was friendly, curious and respectful. He gives a head tilt in response.

Friend. Safe. Okay.

Danny gave another yawn, feeling his jaw open a tad wider than it should in normal human circumstances but who could care less when he has a Martian— an actual martian in front of him even if he’s too sleepy to actively be excited! He’s tired okay, it’s not everyday he gets to indulge on his obsession heavily on an everyday basis. He’d been so deprived that he’d gotten sick and it’s what made the others decide to give him the boot so he could enjoy his time before he got the crown.

“What is your name, little one?” Martian Manhunter softly asked in Danny’s head after the younger one winced from the volume earlier after he began to wake up.

“Danny.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Old man said I needed my enrichment.”

“One of my allies called you a baby ghost of the Infinite Realms, is this true?”

Danny released another cat like sound, this one more curious than the other when he had just barely woke up. Someone knew what he was? How curious, it wasn’t often Danny stumbled in dimensions that knew he was from the Infinite Realms… much less the fact that he’s even a ghostling.

“Mhm, ghostling is the proper term. We usually calculate age by how long we’ve been dead. In ghost terms I’m like three.”

Martian Manhunter seemed to pause, as if listening to something. Danny gave another yawn before he finally decided to change into a more normal size instead of the large form he had used to travel through the void easier. His form shifted in a bright light before he floated over to Martian Manhunter.

He quickly realized he was a lot smaller than he’d been and he supposes this is what CW meant when changing forms, he’d most likely reflect the age he’s in ghost terms. He doesn’t think he’d handle if Martian Manhunter treated him like a kid.

“When you said enrichment…?”

“Oh! Clocky said to play nice with my cousin? I think her name is Wonder Woman? Um he’s ah known as Chronos?”

733 notes · View notes

xespa · 2 months ago

Text

AFTERGLOW ✶ HUH YUNJIN 🍒

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝖥𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 huh yunjin x f!reader ⋅ 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖭𝖳 1,967 words ⋅ 𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖱𝖤/𝖳𝖠𝖦𝖲 sub!reader, roommates au, soft dom!yunjin, fluff, explicit smut

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 ⟳ alcohol consumption, both reader and yunjin are bisexual, small mention of “slut-shaming” (not from yunjin tho), yunjin is WHIPPED, overstim, fingering, oral (f. rec), multiple orgasms, spanking

“It’s like…everyone’s so fucking boring nowadays.” Yunjin rambles on as she takes another sip of her wine. “I just can’t find the right one that matches my vibe.”

You nod, “I feel. Literally everyone I talk to is lame as hell, they always rather stay in and watch movies than go on an actual date, which is fine sometimes…but all the time? Hard pass.”

It’s 2 am on a saturday night and neither of you had anything to do, you proposed going out clubbing but Yunjin wasn’t in the mood for that kind of night. She was more of a laid-back, chill type of girl while you were always out late partying and coming home with someone new every weekend. It’s not like Yunjin didn’t have guys (or girls) over either, she was just more discreet about it and made sure you were gone whenever she brought anyone over. She felt like she wouldn’t be able to face you again if you ever heard what she was doing.

“That’s ‘cause they’re just trying to fuck, oldest trick in the book y/n.” Yunjin chuckles as you lightly smack her arm. “What— it’s the truth! Anyone with eyes would wanna get in your pants.”

Well, maybe that explains why you’re always getting texts at 2-3 am asking to “come chill” even though you know how it’s going to end and you fall for it every. single. time. Maybe that’s why your last hookup called you “for the team” to all his friends, you fucked on the first “date” but only because he showed you cute pics of animals he rescued (curse you for being such a softie). But generally, it didn’t take much for you to want to sleep with someone because you had sexual needs just like everyone else, except you were a girl and that wasn’t very “ladylike” of you. That didn’t stop you from actively seeking potential sex partners though.

“Ugh, don’t say that! I’m just more of a lowkey person.. I don’t mind netflix dates but damn, ya girl could really use some wining and dining once in a while.” You express frustratedly. It’s been a while since you’ve been taken somewhere nice and the thought of someone planning a cute outing together made you yearn for a relationship even more.

Yunjin’s brows lift in confusion, “do I not already do that for you every day?”

She’s constantly cooking for you, soon as you wake up breakfast is made with your favorite—pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs! She’d also cook you dinner once you got home from an exhausting day of work, she was the perfect roommate you could’ve ever stumbled upon.

“You do— but that’s different..” Your voice trails off, thinking of any excuse as to why but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“How? Am I only your maid that cooks and cleans for you? Not worthy of anything else?” She pouts dramatically, of course she’d get offended by something so little.

“Yunnie don’t do this right now, you know I appreciate you and your sweet gestures all the time.” Sighing as you sink further into the couch, you decide to spill more about your not so eventful sex life.

“It seems like most guys only care about getting their nut then dipping, I barely finish if it at all after..” You realize how embarrassing that sounds to admit but you had to confess this to someone, you don’t even know why you continue to torment yourself with this kind of treatment.

Yunjin shakes her head in disbelief, appalled at the sad truth of your current dilemma. She too however, faced a similar issue at hand. She can’t seem to find anyone that’ll keep up with her crazy high sex drive. “That sounds truly awful, what the fuck? I’d have you on orgasm number five just from my fingers alone.”

Holy shit, did she really just say that? The wine is most definitely getting to her now. The room got real quiet for a second.

“Y-you would?” You ask innocently, batting your lashes at her.

She wanted to retract her statements out of embarrassment but you didn’t look put off by her advances at all, instead intrigued. Her cheeks turned rosier, very unexpected of you to put her on the spot like that but she was the one who opened pandora’s box to begin with. “I mean… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” She replied, biting her lip as she gauges your reaction to see if what she said was okay. “I’m more of a giver than receiver anyway, I love giving head it’s my specialty. I’d leave you with that afterglow if you let me babe.”

Well now you were going to have to find out, you can’t just let her make such bold claims like that without having the proof to back it up first. You’ve always found your roommate extremely hot but you never tried anything out of respect for her boundaries, she did the same but her urges to make a move on you kept growing as you complained more and more about your past experiences— she wanted to show you how it was really done.

Yunjin was determined in making sure you have a great time. Your pretty body splayed under her with your backside facing upward, giving her the view of a lifetime. “Fuck…” she curses under her breath, her digits sinking into your dripping core, greedily taking all of her in. You muffle the sounds of your moans by covering your mouth, you had a habit of doing so since you didn’t want to wake Yunjin whenever she was sleeping while you were getting it on.

“C’mon you don’t gotta be shy babe, be as loud as you want with me.” She husks, giving a spank to your left cheek leaving a visibly red handprint. Hands sliding up the curves of your body, caressing you as she pumps her fingers deeper. “Mmh.. fuck— Yunnie keep going.” whimpering out pathetically as your walls clench around her. She adds another digit to the mix, watching them disappear in your cunt while looking at your perfectly round, plump ass. Never in a million years would she think she’d be doing this to her roommate of all people.

You felt a knot tying in your stomach from the pleasure, grabbing onto the leather couch tightly—feeling yourself getting close already. “Sound so pretty when you moan, don’t stop.” She encourages sweetly, “I’m making you feel good, aren’t I?” Sounded more like a statement rather than a question.

“Y-yes, think I’m gonna cu— oh fuck!” Eyes roll to the back of your head as feel yourself come undone on Yunjin’s fingers, creaming all over them as she continues fingering you, thumb swiping harshly over your clit to help ride out your high. The overstimulation was too much to handle for you, bratty whines escaping your lips as you just couldn’t take anymore.

“On your back now.” She orders, producing another spank to your rear, you squeal from the contact but get up and lye on your back as she told you to do. “Open.” Yunjin groans impatiently for you, slipping in her fingers coated with your milky essence. You suck them off one by one, getting a taste of yourself while looking directly in her eyes. God…you were going to be the death of her.

“Mmm.. so fuckin’ hot babe.” She smirks, planting a soft kiss to your lips to get a taste on your tongue. She needed to have more of you. Kissing down your chin, neck, collarbone, chest, all the day down to your navel—faint blotches of red appear on the bruised skin; creating a beautiful masterpiece on your body. More kisses are pressed into your soaked inner thighs, trailing her lips up to your entrance as she licks her lips before she begins feasting.

“Don’t hold back on me baby, be as rough as you want.” She coos, lowering her head to flatten her tongue, licking a long, slow stripe against your throbbing slit.

“Shit!” You almost cry from how good she feels against you already, bucking your hips into her mouth as she sucks on your puffy bundle of nerves. Eyes looking up at you fiercely while she watches you shake and writhe under her. “So good, so goood. Just like that, don’t stop please!” You continued grinding your core on her face, making a leaky mess all over her. She could care less though, she’ll happily drown in your juices any day.

Her fingers return back inside for extra stimulation but you end up crying out more, the feeling has your head spinning intensely. You don’t know how much more you can possibly take but you firmly pull on her hair for leverage, tightly tugging it not caring if it hurts since she said not to hold back. Her free hand caresses your thigh gently, flicking her tongue rapidly on your clit and lapping up your wetness, you taste like a dream.

“Oh my god…” you mewl slightly above a whisper, you suddenly forgot how to use your voice. Her mouth was making you feel more than amazing, better than anything you’ve felt before. You feel bad for all the guys and girls you fucked in the past because they definitely won’t be getting a call back from you now.

“Taste so sweet baby,” she mutters before shortly going back to what she was doing, “mmmm…” she hums against you and the vibrations leave you shuddering. Another orgasm erupts out of you as you scream her name louder, spasming and shaking under her touch. This time your release squirts out onto her tongue, licking up every drop, even the left over excess on your thighs.

She presses a kiss to your abused clit, lightly dragging a finger over it to rub in circles, making it swell up again. “P-please Yunnie, no more… n-no more.” You whine again and again but she just pretends not to hear you. She’s not going to stop until she’s completely satisfied with the end result. The end result being you looking a total fucked-out mess.

“Shut up. Stop talking.” Her eyes darkened, giving you a menacing glare. You don’t utter another word, you wouldn’t dare test her right now.

She slings your leg over her shoulder and pushes you in closer, teasing your sensitive entrance while curling her fingers inside, she could do this all day if you’d let her. Your breath shortens, digging your nails deeper into her skin from the bliss you feel— you were overly sensitive and felt another one nearing your way. She wasn’t even using her tongue on you anymore, she was just so good with her fingers alone it was enough to have you squirting all over her.

And you did just that, again. “That’s right baby, cum all over my fingers like a good girl.” She praises, feeling the tightness of you wrap around her. Your body was so numb. Panting, moaning, vision getting blurry as you coat her fingers with your cream for the third time in a row. She pulls them out slowly, letting you drip all over the couch, chuckling with endearment of you. It almost didn’t feel real with the way she was making you cum so easily for her. She had a natural talent at this it seems. You felt weightless, as light as air in her touch, a radiant beam of ecstasy lingers within you.

“That was…incredible.” You gush, ruffling her already disheveled hair, “I haven’t felt like this in a really long time.”

Yunjin kept smirking; boy you were in for so much more tonight. “Mm.. just relax pretty, ’m not even close to being done with you yet. Gonna have everyone know who’s my name once we’re finished.”

#le sserafim smut #le sserafim x reader #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin smut #huh yunjin smut #le sserafim yunjin #huh yunjin #le sserafim x fem reader #wlw #kpop smut #kpop x reader #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim x you #yunjin x you #kpop imagines #yunjin imagines

449 notes · View notes

jayden-killer · 3 months ago

Text

Don't let me go. ‹𝟹

Eddie pushes away his need of affection. That is, until he meets you.

warnings: ig angst to fluff(?), reader is fem bc yes, al munson mention lmao.

Eddie needed affection.

Having someone cuddling him is what he has always wanted; however, never admitted, especially since his mother passed away. He doesn’t need a maternal figure, far from it. Growing up, this need is repressed over time, inculcating this idea that it is not necessary because he can live without it. Yet this desire resurfaces in front of couples who embrace, holding hands, sharing their personal space. After all, he doesn’t need it.

He’s a freak.

Who would ever want to be next to a freak? A person who will never succeed in life? Who may end up like his father?

He cannot cope with the discomfort in his heart, so he tries to repress it once again.

And again.

That was his belief until he met you. It wasn’t a chance meeting at all. One of his teachers had said that he needed a tutor. His school grades were not stable, not to mention the poor attention he paid to almost every class. He would never have expected his tutor to be the most beautiful, kind person in the world.

Date after date, you have opened to each other, sharing a comfortable silence.

Your relationship started after 4 months of seeing each other; everything was going well. One of those days, Eddie thought it would be nice to invite you into his trailer, stating that his uncle would come back late to catch up on some overdue hours.

So you found yourself in the heat, on his poorly groomed sofa, focused on the vision of the musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show. One of Eddie’s favourite movies.

"Love?"

"Mh?"

"Do you really...wanna hold my hand?"

His girlfriend’s eyes were confused. "Why would I be bothered by it, Teddy?"

Teddy. God, he loved her when he called him that.

Eddie met her eyes and thought for a moment to lie, but... did it make sense? Was it really worth lying? What if she knew about it? She knew that her beloved had a good intuition. He also knew that women did not miss anything and would not get away with it easily.

So, with a deep sigh, he played with his girlfriend’s fingers and confessed everything. His feeling of repulsion towards love, of inequality, how he had always tried to fool him and how he was not...worthy.

"Eddie..." The girl’s fingers squeezed more of hers. "I must admit, I suspected it."

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Good sense, indeed. "How?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "You weren’t very convinced when I hugged you in public on certain occasions or when I kissed you on the stairs of the school. You looked... tense. I knew something was wrong."

On Eddie passed a feeling of shame.

What a shithead, he began to think.

"And I understand how you feel. Sometimes it happens to me too, and it will definitely never be the same feeling as yours, but..." The girl caressed his cheek, gently swiping her thumb up and down, "you have to start believing it. Also, you don’t really believe all that crap going around about you? Unsubstantiated bullshit by ignorant people?" They both chuckled.

"Right," said Eddie, still smiling. "Maybe I just have to believe it a little bit more." He paused, this time stroking her cheek. " I have to work on it. It won’t happen immediately, but...with time"

"With time," she repeated. She silently got closer to him, as if she wanted to kiss him, but fearing that she might bother him. Eddie appreciated the gesture.

"You mustn’t think it bothers me. I love it. I love to feel your lips on mine." He gave her a quick kiss and took her cheeks in his hands.

Eddie memorized every detail of her wonderful face, with red cheeks and eyes that conveyed security and love. "Okay?"

She nodded, smiling. "Okay. I’ll be by your side the whole time. If you ever need to talk about it again, you know I’m here for that."

"I know, baby. I know. I don’t know how to thank you yet."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "10 dollars an hour for each psychological counseling."

Eddie threw his hands in the air. "This is a burglary without a gun! I’m already broke, then you go too!"

The two spent the evening laughing, enjoying the movie, and Eddie seemed to have a lighter weight on his shoulders. At least for now.

☆

taglist: @justalotoffanfiction

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn eddie munson #angst #eddie munson x reader angst #fluff #angst to fluff #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n

425 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 5 months ago

Text

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p4

Masterpost late, tired, still emotional and physically fragile. please no editing <3

“—ir? Sir?”

Danny mumbled something incoherent that was supposed to be a response to that, or befuddlement about being called ‘sir’, or at least something better than ‘wadamehaaftz’. The bite of a tightening blood pressure cuff around his arm helped bring him a little be back to the world. He opened his eyes right into too bright light and winced back in reaction.

“Sir? Do you need us to call an ambulance?” the panicked looking barista asked. She was crouched down next to him where he lay on the floor.

Great, now he could never come back to this coffee shop. That was a damn shame, they had really good bagels.

“No,” Danny managed to make his mouth say. “Seizure. Newish thing for me. I’m fine—will be fine. Sorry.”

“Maybe you should stay laying down for a moment longer?” The barista suggested.

Danny hummed. “Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude,” someone said off to Danny’s right. He didn’t think it was worth the effort to turn his head and look, “you just had a seizure. You were screaming. Like, I think we’re all okay if you lay there. We can step around you.”

There were murmurers of agreement.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, great,” Danny said and summoned the willpower to lift his hand and give there room a thumbs up. He let it drop listlessly back down onto his chest.

At least the floor was cool against his back. And he did feel a bit better not trying to get up immediately. When he finally pulled himself back up into his chair, the nice barista brought him a glass of ice water with a straw. Danny drank every drop of the first glass and a refill until the paper of the stupid straw started to turn to mush between his lips.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be up for doing much especially that day, Danny got a bagel sandwich to go, left a generous tip, and fled the cafe with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Penny was was at the apartment. She shoved a still warm load of banana bread at Danny as she bitched about her latest failed relationship. Apparently her girlfriend had been hooking up with the bouncer at their favorite bar. Not that Penny would have minded if they had talked through it before hand and Penny was allowed to join every now and again.

Which, fair, the bouncer did have amazing arms.

When Penny’s phone rang, blaring a dated pop song, Danny was able to make his escape with the added load of his two liter water bottle and bag of little oranges. Or not oranges—clementines? Tangelos? Whatever, little oranges.

He set everything down on the end of his bed before flinging himself onto it.

Another seizure. A worse one.

But a clearer vision of the ghost than he’d ever had before.

Groaning, Danny dragged himself to hang over the edge of his bed so he could pull out one of the storage cubes from under it. After a bit of shuffling, he got the one he wanted out from the back: a long ignored stack of art supplies. Danny rummaged around in it for a pencil and eraser before he pulled the sketchbook out from the bottom. He flipped past old game ides and idle doodles to find a blank page and started to work.

There was so much of the ghost that he still couldn’t define, but the more he worked at the sketch of the ghost’s face, the more he started to narrow it down.

Danny stared down at the page.

Overworked eyes stared back.

Feeling frustrated at how close it was, Danny grabbed a blue marker from the page and filled in the eyes carefully. Then, with almost irritated strokes, Danny roughly messed in the strikingly orange hair.

Now his ghost started back.

“Hello there…"

#dp x dc #danny/wally #danny/dick #dick/wally #danny/dick/wally #thodf

613 notes · View notes

seaborgium-dazies · 3 months ago

Text

your lover on a leash

mha boys like you romantically and they're convinced you don't like them back :( But you do and you finally tell them. part 1 is here cw: throwing up (deku), set in the last year of UA; reader makes the first moves cus the boys are shyyyyy, gn!reader 🌊: deku, bakugo, shoto, iida, denki A/N: I got carried away 😭 And I finished this at 3:06 am so ignore any mistakes hdhjdhf wc: 2.8 k

deku:

Tears were effortlessly falling from his eyes as he was rocking back and forth. If you had seen him in this state, muttering a mix of "why wont they just love me" and "i'm such a loser" your heart would've shattered into a million pieces.

Between tears and hiccups deku just couldn't wrap his head around the pain of the situation. His thoughts were going a hundred kilometers per hour as he heard a gentle knock on his door. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Had he been too loud? Did someone hear him? Panic started to bloom in his chest.

Deku's spiraling was interrupted by the soft sound of your voice. "Deku I can hear you, please open the door". Fuck. I guess there's no way out. Deku approached the door, hastily wiped his tears and cracked the door open just enough to catch a glimpse of your face.

"What's up". He cringed at the way his voice cracked. He watched you trying to piece together the most gentle way to approach the topic. "I thought I heard, uhm, you having a hard time". Dekus mouth was slightly agape, humiliation and shame making him want to throw up. Actually seeing you here, your foot in his door, your furrowed brows, your fluffy hair, that knowing look. Seeing you in all of your glory and knowing he'll never get to have you? The pain in his chest - it makes him sick.

Before he could comprehend it he ran to his bathroom, bending over the toilet to throw up. When he came to his senses, he saw you standing next to the sink, handing him a damp paper towel to wipe his mouth.

Deku really thought that he already hit rock bottom, that the weeks of pining and stashing love poems under his bed were the epitome of patheticness. But seeing you standing there, casting a heavenly light on him, akin to a saint, he felt the worst he ever has.

"I actually came here because I wanted to ask you something, i didn't know you were sick". You looked nervous, deku figured it was because you were seeing him in such a fucked up state. You crouched down next to him. "You don't look too well, let me make you a tea".

"No, no, I'm fine". "No I already made up my mind deku. You're getting a nice chamomile tea". And with a quick "be right back" you slipped out of his room.

You returned with a steaming cup of tea in your fidgety hands. You slipped into his room and made your way over to deku, who was now sitting on the edge of his bed. It really pained you, seeing him like this, but you had sworn to yourself that you would do it. You figured that you just HAD to act on your feelings or they would eat you alive, even if deku was sick right now. Of course the fear over dekus reaction was already eating you alive.

"Why did you come to my room to begin with?". Deku took the words right out of your mouth. Whatever. It's now or never.

You took a deep breath and started "I've had something on my mind for a while now. And I don't know how you'll react but I just really want to clear the air between us."

Deku took in a shaky breath but you continued "I like how up-beat, caring and sweet you are. How you never leave anyone out and how intense your desire and passion to learn and help others is. I guess what I'm trying to say is that i really like you and i was wondering if you would want to go out sometime? As... more than friends?"

You physically couldn't bring yourself to look up from the pralines that you had taken out of your bag and which you were now clutching.

With every passing second of silence you wanted to fade into nothingness more and more. When you looked up to hand him the chocolate, you had to gasp.

Deku's furrowed brows, puffy and glassy eyes made your breath hitch. Just as you were about to start apologizing for making him cry he laid his scarred hand over yours.

"Yes". With his answer, short and sweet, it felt like a thousand kilogram weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Like two magnets you two clashed against each other and connected in a fierce hug. Your rib cages clashing against one another, your hands buried in his shirt and his hands curling around your waist.

Your heart was beating rapidly and feeling dekus face in the crook of your neck sent shivers down your spine. You felt as if you two just cultivated a piece of heaven.

You managed to peel yourself off of him after a while and you two had an in depth conversation about everything that happened and how you imagine your future to be.

The both of you could not stop grinning from cheek to cheek through the whole conversation and you thanked your lucky stars extra that night.

bakugo:

You jogged over to the sports hall. You were late for your weekly sparring matches. You locked yourself out of your dorm room and even forgot your running shoes lying on the floor. So you had to get the spare key and bring it back which resulted in you being super late.

You arrive at the hall after all, and after explaining the situation to aizawa he tells you that the only partner that's left is bakugo and that you're gonna have to sparr with him.

Your shoulders drop at his words. This is so much worse than any scolding you could've imagined. Of course. Of course the universe wanted to punish you, not only by making your fall head over heels for the guy who despises every fibre of you, no, but also by frequently forcing you to fight him.

And just like that he had you pinned against the floor, you fought against his grip but he didnt seem to budge. The anger was bubbling inside of your chest and it was getting harder to push it down. When would he STOP being so hard on you? Why did you have to have a crush on him of all people! AND WHY DOES HE HATE YOU SO MUCH?.

Before you knew it, your emotions got the better of you and you had bitten him so hard that he yelled in pain. This gave you an opening to slip out of his grip.

Unfortunately bakugo's anger seemed to be a neverending resource and you could practically already hear another explosion coming. "WHAT THE FUCK?! DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME?!"

You skillfully converted your guilt into anger and directed it against him once more. "Yes! Because you deserve it, you piece of shit!"

You two moved so quickly that watching the fight transpire would be physically painful. With alternating hits, dodges and words exchanged, this felt like much more than a simple sparring match.

This match was different than every previous match and the bleeding bite mark and bakugos bicep was a painful reminder of that. Slightly out of breath he began shouting "What the fuck is wrong with you today?!"

"With me?! What the hell is wrong with you! You keep picking on me! You keep fighting me!"

You were cursing yourself up and down for becoming emotional, but how could you not? Tears started forming in your eyes as you continued shouting "I never did anything to you! I was always kind! I don't deserve this hatred! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LIKE ME BACK?!"

And just as the shouted words left your lips it dawned on you that you just let your best kept secret spill "..what?"

Bakugo looked at you with wide eyes, not certain if he had heard you correctly now.

The energy shifted and bakugos muscles went lax as he lowered his arm. Guilt was not only creeping in, it was enveloping him now. Suddenly he realised just how shitty he had been acting towards you. His own feelings for you suddenly felt exposed as well, his face falling into a mix of shock and a smile.

"What?" You asked him, all traces of anger wiped from your face. The unfamiliar expression on bakugos face made an uneasy feeling brew in your stomach.

"I do...". The words left bakugos lips and like a spell it turned you two into shy messes, stumbling over words and fidgeting with your hands.

"So...." "So?" "do you like ... wanna go out ... sometime?"

Blush spread across both of your cheeks. Intensifying as you muttered a shy "Yes, id love that".

Now you two just had to pray to god that none of the other students had heard you screaming...

Shoto:

Shoto was super perceptive of things happening in the real world, but of feelings? Not so much. He was aware when they started bubbling in his chest, when they were threatening to erupt but before that they went unnoticed a lot.

That's exactly what happened with his feelings for you, he didn't notice when that 'damn I really like them' started morphing into a 'damn I really love them' and much less when his heart started bleeding at the thought of you.

It was easy to ignore the slight changes in shotos behavior. It was easy to dismiss the worries by saying you were too paranoid but you just couldn't put a halt to the gnawing, the constant worry. He just seemed different in a way you couldn't pinpoint.

The bell rang marking the end of your day. Conversations ensued and the noise was accompanied by people packing their stuff and making plans. You saw shoto making quick work of his bag and you decided to take your chance.

You quickly crammed your supplies into your bag and jogged to catch up to him.

"Heya!", you greeted him with a smile. Shoto replied with a surprised "Hey".

"Do you have any plans now?". "No" "Perfect".

It didn't take long to convince Shoto to go check out a new cafe with you and soon enough you were walking side by side through the bustling streets.

You kept stealing glances, evaluating what you're seeing. He noticed of course, which made you turn away. There was no doubt that he somehow changed, were the bags under his eyes slightly more pronounced or were you just seeing things?

You wiped your sweaty hands on the outside of your legs, collecting your courage to ask. "So... is everything okay?"

Shoto tilted his head slightly before answering "of course, why wouldn't it be?". "Well... You've been a little distant lately, and uhm... more quiet. So i just wanted to make sure that nothing is up...".

You tried smiling at him but he saw that it was shaky, he saw the genuine worry on your face and it surprised him. Now that shoto was thinking about it you really were right. He couldn't sleep, focus or enjoy his usual pastimes the way he used to. But he never would've expected someone to notice it especially when he hadn't even noticed it himself.

"You know I'm just saying I'm a little worried, and we haven't hung out in a while... So uhhm if I've done something wrong or insulting please just tell me. I've been thinking back but I couldn't really tell what it was that made you want to have less-"

"y/n" Shoto interrupted your mumbled rant. You turned your head towards him, waiting for his words.

"It's not like that." "It isn't?" "No, don't worry".

Although shotos words were only partially true, he really didn't want to make you worry. He did feel different and he didn't know why, but your concern made him feel weirdly warm inside.

"As long as I'm with you everything is good"

You couldn't help but blush, and in return shoto blushed. The silence between you felt so thick as if it could turn into a blanket any moment and wrap you two in it.

After a while you worked up the courage to ask "wow this feels suspiciously like a date "

Without missing a beat he answered, "I like the sound of that". "Then let's make it one".

Before reaching the cafe your hand had found its way into his. The way his cheeks glowed light pink made your heart beat even more ferociously and this afternoon was just the first of many spent in that very same cafe.

iida:

The last couple of weeks iida seemed to be different. Completely overworked and stressed to hell and back.

It worries you deeply to see him like this. You were constantly wondering whether he was taking care of himself. The bags under his eyes seemed to be more pronounced and his participation in class seemed more shallow even though he was working more than before.

But whenever you wanted to investigate and find something out he seemed totally normal. He held a conversation just fine, he made you laugh and you enjoyed every second spent with him. But something wasn't right, you just knew it!

He was hanging up the new schedule for class duty when you saw an opening. You approached him with a clipboard in hand.

"Iida do you have a couple of minutes to spare? I'm collecting data for a study I'm conducting. It's supposed to help the planning of the schedule for future generations"

Of course that was all a lie, but it's not like he would find out. At least not immediately and that's what counts.

You began asking standard mental health questions about sleep, stress and self doubts. The answers surprised you. Of course you knew that iida had always been disciplined but this seemed like a little too much, training a little too hard, studying a little too long, sleeping too little. You had to do something.

"Hmmm, iida I have to tell you that your results are by far the most alarming. You're going to have to change parts of your schedule."

"What? What does that have to do with your study?"

"Oh- uhm nothing. But I'm just saying this as your friend now. Thanks to the study I have sketched out a standard routine, with a little bit of tweaking I can make it perfect for you"

Iida seemed suspicious of you and asked more questions which you all dodged like a pro. You were really good at persuading iida so it was only a matter of time until he accepted your offer.

It wouldn't be you if you didn't get the most out of it though. You got him to agree to meet in his dorm room to discuss further details and courses of action later.

One thing that was unmistakable though is that when he was talking to you, his mind was sharper, his sentences more clearly structured, his words more precisely picked and his cheeks tinted with an adorable pink hue.

Not long after iida told you he had to go somewhere and that you would talk later. So of course you got him to confirm your idea and as you said goodbye you shouted over to him

"It's a date then~"

The wink you shot him was the finishing touch, he disappeared in the crowd with burning cheeks and a rapidly beating heart.

Denki:

You always saw denki as a one in a million type of guy. The type of guy to remember the songs you liked and try to subtly incorporate them into his playlist when you were hanging out. The type of guy who would try to impress you with card and skateboard tricks. The type of guy who could joke for days, the type of guy you would scour the earth for. And harboring these feelings for him made it all the more difficult not to lose your mind when you heard him belittle himself so much.

Months passed but denki didn't pass up any opportunity to point words against himself. He was calling himself everything from stupid to ugly to incompetent, all of which were just factually untrue and one day you just couldn't do it anymore.

"You would never go out with an ugly boy like me, i just know it" Instead of taking the high road and trying to tell him hes pretty you bluntly state "I would if I could".

"What?", denkis voice hit an unusual cadence and the shock was dripping from it.

"What?", you ask back with a cocky tone.

"What did you just say?" Denkis self doubts seemed to be rather serious if he still asked you, his voice full of disbelief.

"I said I would if I could. You're cute, funny and lovely to be around, I can't think of a single reason not to go on a date with you"

You weren't sure if it was his quirk or just your hearts but there were definitely sparks. And as he smashed his lips against yours, connecting them in a passionate kiss, you praised the heavens for this gift.

taglist: @the-did-i-ask

475 notes · View notes