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pepshee · 3 months ago

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Can I have extra credit, Professor Lee?

Pairing - professor!heeseung x student!reader

Genre - smut, age gap, student x teacher college!au

Word count - 2.2k

Warnings - age gap of 6 years (22 & 28), daddy kink, light choking, cursing, this fic is ass </3, cream pie, fingering, ass slapping, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: ive been seaching for more prof. hee x student fics but i couldn't find any i haven't read so i figured i'd write my own LMAOOO, i hope you enjoy, it's my third time ever writing smut and as always... leave me some feedback!

MDNI 18+

You hated physics, it was your worst subject. Every test came back with a huge, annoying, red F. You didn't know what to do. You were doing great in your other classes, so why couldn't you do good in this one too?

It was only one class, right?

At least that's what you told yourself.

It didn't help your professor was incredibly hot and tall. Every girl in class wanted him, real bad, and you did too but the difference was you were doing badly. The other girls seemed to get good grades, as well as the boys.

You didn't understand anything and especially didn't understand why you had to take this class, but honestly, as long as you had Professor Lee as your teacher, it wouldn't hurt to keep it on your schedule, right?

The other girls in the class would get praised by him in class for their good grades, although he never publicly embarrassed you for your bad grades you still felt embarrassed. You didn't know how they knew everything they were always zoning out staring at him. You couldn't blame them, but still, it made no sense.

You had started blowing off your assignments, and not doing his classwork. How could you do work you didn't even know how to do? Googling it was no help at all, and surely your professor's pretty face, and sexy physique would help you focus right? Well, it had the opposite effect. It distracted you even more.

You were lost, confused, and unmotivated to even do his work. Too scared to go to his office hours for help, and too scared to ask for help in class, your grades in his class were slipping even further if that was even possible.

It was time for midterms, and well.. You had no clue what you were doing. You got handed the study guide but barely understood anything that was written on it. To be honest you didn't care whether you failed or passed that class, you didn't think it mattered considering it wasn't even associated with your major.

Well.. that was until the dean told you it was required for you to graduate...

Why? You had no clue.

You didn't want to have to retake it, you might have if Professor Lee was guaranteed to be your teacher, but he wasn't so you wanted it out of the way now.

You tried getting a tutor and it helped for a bit—well until you ran out of money that is..

You couldn't afford a tutor, were too intimidated by your professor to ask for help, and knew the others in the class wouldn't help you. You were so fucked...

Well, you tried using chatgpt and hoped for the best. That quickly proved to be problematic because nine times out of ten it gave you the wrong answer.

Professor Lee always graded on correctness, and well you can see how getting the wrong answers 'helped' your grade...

You were running out of options, and the midterms were coming up fast. Well, there was still one option left. Seduce him?

Well it wasn't exactly ethical, but you knew he wasn't married and were quickly running out of way to fix your grade.

Seduction it is.

So that very next day when you had his class, luckily it was warm out, you wore shorts that were almost too small and a black tank top that was low cut. It's good nobody in college gave a shit about what people wore.

Your friends didn't seem to notice anything, and you're relieved because how would you explain you're trying to seduce your professor?

You arrive at his class, of course, those girls are there way early, like always. Usually, you'd call them suck-ups in your head, but now you're either gonna suck up to him, hopefully in more ways than one.

You decided to sit in one of the rows closer to the front this time. You had eaten a small bag of chips before class and kept the empty bag as a part of your plan. Professor Lee—who actually, nobody knew his first name which was strange—was standing at the front of the class at the podium. The garbage can was in the corner behind him.

You were nervous but you got up and walked over to the garbage can purposefully dropping your pencil in the process. You bent over to pick it up which exposed a bit of your ass due to the tightness and how short the shorts were. Frankly, you had no clue if he was looking or not, but you sure hoped so so you at least wouldn't be making a complete fool of yourself.

Fortunately, he was watching you. He happened to turn around to write something on the board when he saw you bent over grabbing your pencil. He bit his lip as many thoughts were running through his mind. He knew he couldn't stare for long without getting caught, or worse, getting hard.

He looked away not wanting to get a hard-on before his lecture even started. He knew who you were, the girl who was failing miserably. He couldn't deny he loved the view of your ass. He wanted so badly to touch you, but he knew he couldn't.

You were back in your seat after throwing away the empty bag of chips, and everyone else started coming into the class. Eventually, he started his three-hour-long lecture. He was trying his best not to look at you knowing he would probably get hard after the stunt you pulled.

── .✦

You did that every time you had his class. Wore clothes that weren't overly revealing, but something that would show off your figure, show cleavage, or show your panties when bending over.

Well, you don't know why you haven't made a move yet, but obviously just wearing slightly revealing clothes to his class wouldn't help your grade.

Today was the day, the day you would ask him for help, the day you would make your move.

His lecture was coming to an end, he was handing back some assignments he had graded. When it got to yours it was placed on your desk upside down. You'd gotten used to that by now, picking it up to see a 2/15. How was being this bad at physics even possible?

"I handed back some assignments I had graded, and that's all for today. Class is dismissed," He announced, fixing the black glasses on his face. Everyone got up to leave except for you.

"Y/N, you're still here, do you need something?" He was confused as to why you stayed after everyone, you were usually the first one out. His confusion was quickly forgotten when he realized how sexy you looked right now. Black crop top, tiny jean skirt, your thighs almost on full display.

"Professor Lee, I wanna speak to you about my grade," you responded. It was hard to look him in the eyes without feeling a warmth between your legs. "Of course, your grade is quite low, come into my office, and we'll talk there."

He leads you to one of the side doors which lead directly to his office. He sat down behind his desk and you sat in the seat that was positioned in front of it. "You need to improve your grade Y/N, I understand this class isn't the easiest, but this is nothing I've seen before," it was quite embarrassing hearing that from him

"I'm sorry professor.. I'm trying," well, that was kind of a lie because you were trying, but stopped.

"I understand, but I grade you on correctness. You pay attention and take notes but your grades are still bad. I don't know how that's even possible," he shook his head looking at his computer screen. You can only assume he's looking at your grades.

"Is there any way I can raise it? I'll do anything, I need to pass this class to graduate," you were getting kind of desperate which you never thought you would be.

"There is one way Y/N," his voice dropped, it was now low and filled with innuendos. It kind of shocked you but also excited you having to shift around slightly due to the uncomfortable wetness between your legs.

"Do you want extra credit?" he had noticed the way you shifted in your seat.

"Please Professor Lee," you pleaded, more breathless than anything.

"Come here, baby," he smirked as he watched you get up from your seat and walk behind his desk, getting closer to him.

He spins in his chair to face you. “Will you let me kiss you baby?” You nodded in response and he quickly cupped your cheek and pulled you into a rough kiss.

It was heated almost instantly with his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a moan at the feeling. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, gripping and pulling it making him groan at the sensation.

He pulled his lips away from yours and stood up from his chair. “Bend over for me, bend over my desk,” you quickly complied and bit your lip. “Fuck baby, look at you.. Bent over on my desk for me, so cute and good for me,” it was hard to tell what he was doing behind you since you were facing forward, but you heard the fumbling of a belt.

You suddenly felt his hands on your hips, the skirt you were wearing was so short he didn't even need to take it off you to see the baby pink, lacy panties you were wearing. He moved one of his hands to your ass grabbing it and giving it a sharp smack causing you to moan.

Then, he moved his hand to your panties feeling how wet they were. “Holy shit… This is how wet I make you? You’re a dirty slut for me. Say it, are you a slut for me? Are you a slut for Professor Lee?” he ran his fingers up and down your clothed folds.

“Yes, Professor Lee,” he smirked at your words and pulled your panties to the side and inserted two fingers into your wet cunt.

It was unexpected making you let out a moan as he went faster. You could feel the cold of his silver rings he always wore, and the curl of his fingers hitting your sweet spot just right making you let out louder, more pornographic moans.

He can feel the clench of your pussy around his fingers, but he pulls them out before you can even think of climaxing making a whine fall from your lips due to the emptiness.

You heard him fumbling with his clothes and you can only guess he was taking his pants off. There was no way to tell how big he was considering you weren't facing him.

The thoughts that filled your mind were immediately interrupted by him sliding into you, immediately bottoming out. The loud moan that spilled from your lips could have probably been heard from miles away. He began thrusting quickly and roughly his tip touching your cervix and grazing your G-spot every movement.

His office was filled with just the sound of your moans and his occasional groans. The closer to your peak you got, the louder the moans. He used his free hand that was resting on your hip to cover your mouth. “Shut up you slut, you don't want people to catch us, do you?”

Although unable to verbally respond, you shake your head. Your moans could still be heard but now the noise was predominately the sound of his hips hitting your ass and an occasional smack. His dick was so big you felt so full. “Fuck, baby you're so full. My cock is stretching your pussy so good,” he moaned.

He removed his hand from your mouth now moving it to your throat gripping it just enough to cause a little pressure, but not enough to hurt you.

“Are you clo–fuck… are you close you dirty bitch? The naughty little student you are,” he tried to contain his own moans but forming coherent sentences was getting harder and harder now that you were both reaching your climaxes.

“Y-yes daddy,” a groan left his mouth at the nickname, he loved it.

“You're clenching me so hard, you're so fucking tight. Do you like your professor fucking you like this?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Yes, Professor Lee, I–fuck I love it, daddy.”

“Shit, im g—I'm gonna cum,” he whispers into your ear. He didn't even have to ask you cause he knew you were close too.

It only took a couple more thrusts for him to still inside of you his warm release filling your cunt, his and yours mixing. He slowly pulled out and fixed your clothes before pulling his pants back up. “It's almost curfew, head back to your dorm, and it's Heeseung by the way,” that was it, you finally found his first name.

“Do I get that extra credit now, Heeseung?” he nods and buckles his belt back up, and responds “Yes you got the extra credit, I’ll make sure you pass baby. Now go,” it would be a lie to say you weren't disappointed you had to leave him.

You exited his office heading back to the dorms when you received a notification.

Your Physics Grade has been updated. Your grade is now 100%.

thank you reading!! before you send hate i'm aware this fic isn't that good😭 i appreciate that you read it anyways!

716 notes · View notes

harrygoeswest · 5 months ago

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Lazy Days

Featuring fiance!Harry, nail painting, bath smut, and general soppy shit.

Trigger warnings: [if there was a 6th Spice Girl she would've been called] soft spice

Word Count: 3,870

A/N: Hiyaaaa. Ages ago (and I really do mean like actual years ago, on a blog long since forgotten) I posted on here a head cannon of all the things I think Harry does during his down time. This is basically just that, but in fic version. Hope you likey like!

~~~

It’s the shifting of weight on the mattress that stirs you from slumber; the sudden absence of warmth from another body at your back; the whisper of fingertips over your hips and thighs. Still, your body is too tired, your limbs too sore to stay conscious for long, and once the rustle of sheets and padding of feet against the hardwood dissipates, you fall back into the darkness of sleep.

Not too long later, you’re awoken again—the click of a door, the soft clunk of clay on wood. Between sponged kisses up your spine where you lay on your front, you catch a whiff of coffee. You smile to yourself.

Those same fingers from before trace the curve of your sides, those lips now pressed lovingly against the nape of your neck. As tentative fingers make way for strong, capable, safe hands, a satisfied sigh leaves you. You’re gently tugged back into the solid embrace of your lover, his front to your back, skin to skin. His arms are a blockade, arresting you into submission.

“Good morning,” Harry practically slurs, his lips brushing and breath tickling your ear.

Melting against him, your response is a croaked, “Hi.”

That plush mouth of his ghosts across your shoulder and back to your neck in slow, tantric lines. While one hand—one arm—remains firmly in place to keep your body gripped to his, the other travels to his favourite places. He starts with small, spiralling circles on your hip, before migrating to the soft swell of your stomach, following the scars of stretch marks on your thighs. You can feel his barred hand testing the weight of your boob, a light-pressured knead.

A satisfied, breathy moan leaves you, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“When was the last time we did this?” he asks, still massaging your breast.

“Did what?” You barely open your mouth to speak.

“Just…nothing? Slept in? Cuddled?”

You grunt, thoughtful. You can’t remember. “Too long.”

His hum sounds like an agreement. “Shall we just…stay in today?”

You idly skim your fingers along his forearm. “Can you manage to sit still for that long?”

He pinches your waist, and you yelp. “I can for you.”

A fizzy kind of happiness begins to bubble its way through you. He achieves this feeling a lot, with his words. His actions. Sometimes just his face. He’s so handsome.

“Deal,” you finally agree.

You drift in and out of consciousness as Harry’s mouth and fingers map your body. He mumbles in your ear in gentle pries for attention, sometimes compliments and verbal loving. Subtle affections. And it’s also contemplation—what are you going to do with your day off together?—or future planning—do you sit your mean uncle next to his problematic third cousin at the wedding just to see who makes a scene first?

You elbow him for that one, even though he makes you laugh with his boyish mischief.

Sunlight filters in through the bedroom blinds, and even though it’s cold outside, it warms your skin where it touches. Harry notices the same thing you do—the way your engagement ring glints off the light—because his hand finds yours, particularly that one finger with his ring on it, and starts toying with it.

Saying yes was the easiest decision you’ve ever made, and for some reason, Harry struggles to believe it sometimes. Why he ever thought you’d say no is beyond you.

In the quiet room, the endless band recedes as the focal point of your attention while his hands continue to caress and travel around the plains of your body. You simply let him, snuggling back into his embrace, holding his arms around you so he doesn’t let you go.

Before long you feel the sensation of want growing, pooling between your legs. It appears much the same for Harry, whose length has stiffened at your back. With a slight adjustment you let it slip between your thighs, sliding against your bare pussy. You release equally tortured groans, his face shoving into your neck, his tongue tasting and his lips sponging kisses there.

You reach behind you, pushing your fingers through his hair and gripping, keeping him pressed to you as closely as possible. His mouth finds yours, tongue eager as it slips between your lips. The kiss is anything but innocent, and it causes the friction between your legs to heighten.

“Find a condom, H,” you beg breathily.

His presence slinks away, only briefly, and you turn over your shoulder to watch him clumsily searching for a foil packet in the drawer of his bedside table. Producing one, he gets to work.

Once he’s rolled it on he’s back with you, arms returning around your middle and his length squeezing through the space between your thighs. He lifts your leg up by the back of your thigh, and his cock sinks into the heat of your wet pussy.

“Fuck yeah,” he mumbles, nibbling his way down your shoulder, “y’always feel so fucking good.”

“So do you,” you huff out, as your body adjusts to the feel of him.

It starts slow, calm. All of your recent intimate moments have been rushed and sloppy because you’re hardly ever home at the same time and you’re too exhausted to do anything. But this…this feels like the opposite.

Harry takes his time. He keeps your leg aloft while he moves in and out of you, talking in your ear with his favoured phrases.

“Can we move?” you ask after so long. “My leg’s starting to cramp.”

“Sure.” He slows down and pulls out of you. “How d’you want it?”

Throwing him a devilish smile, you roll onto your front and lift your ass in the air.

Harry chuckles. He takes a firm grip on one of your round ass cheeks, squeezing and pinching, before landing a swift smack to that same place.

You groan, arching further into the mattress.

His dick sneaks back inside of you and he takes your hips in his hands. His thrusting starts off measured, timed to perfection to build the ache inside you. His cock really does feel sensational, the way it stretches your inner walls, filling you up.

“That feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you assure him. “But I need it faster, baby.”

“How fast?”

“Just…faster than this. It’s nice and all, but I like it when you’re a bit messy.”

“Funny, you never say that when I’m drunk.”

Drunk Harry trying to have sex is…an experience. And not necessarily in a good way.

“I want to feel my backside jiggling, and that ain’t happening at this pace.”

He smacks your ass again, his palm immediately soothing the sting. “I can do that.”

And boy does he deliver. With his hands back on your waist he pistons his hips with vigour. It feels sensational. Your body comes alive as every thrust reaches a deeper, more pleasurable place.

“Fuck, Harry, yes.”

He loves that—the praise you give him. Turns him on and builds him up. He gets faster, sloppier. He becomes uncoordinated, jostling your body forwards, backwards.

You reach under the pillows, fisting the sheets and the corner of the mattress, just looking for purchase on anything.

“You feel. So. Good.” He punctuates each word of his statement with a punishing pump of his hips.

A cry leaves you, and you bury your head further.

He smacks your ass again. And again. The sharpness of it, the crack of skin-on-skin echoes through the room.

You suddenly feel his weight over you, the warmth of his skin against your back. His cock shifts inside you, a strangled gasp garbling from your mouth at the bottoming feeling of it close to your stomach.

His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and then he soothes the bite over with his tongue. “You’re edible.”

“Likewise,” you choke.

Still thrusting away, he grabs a boob in one hand and toys with your clit with the other.

The noises you’re making become hysterical and disconnected. You’re a mad woman—you’ve lost your mind.

“Harry,” you pant.

“I know,” he grunts, his teeth in your neck again. “Fuck.”

“I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” His breathless question leaves perspiration along your shoulder.

“Yeah. Come with me?”

“I’ll certainly fucking try.”

You clench your pussy around him. “Please?”

“Shit!” he yells. “Do that again.”

So you do, your delicate muscles contracting around his thick, hard length. He rubs your clit faster, and you tumble over the edge as he follows.

Spent, Harry collapses onto you, his body a delicious weight.

“Fuck, that was good,” he pants.

“It really was.”

“I think I need a nap.”

“We’ve only just woken up.”

“You’re the one who wanted it fast and hard.”

“Yeah. And?”

He sighs, his lips grazing your neck and shoulder. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

— — —

Later that morning, as you’re pulling fixings out of the fridge for a cooked breakfast, Harry appears out of the pantry, tying an apron around his waist.

A laugh tumbles out of you. “What are you doing, H?”

He gestures down himself with both hands. “Getting ready to make breakfast.”

“You and I both know you will not be doing any of the cooking.”

“I will be here for moral support.”

“Right. Which involves sitting there,” you point to a stool at the island, “and looking pretty.”

He flashes a winning smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

In lieu of swatting him with a tea towel, you flip him the bird.

“Is there anything I can do?” he offers, even as he’s rounding the counter to take his usual seat.

On a sigh, you say, “No, Harry. Your company is all I need.”

“You’ll be sick of me by the end of the day,” he predicts.

“Impossible.”

The food is a poached egg and salmon affair, which you plate up and serve at the counter. You take a seat in the stool beside Harry, both turned towards each other with your knees interlocking. He eats his breakfast one-handed, his other resting on your knee, squeezing every so often.

Rumours by Fleetwood Mac drifts from a speaker on the windowsill—Harry’s choice—eventually bleeding into Rock Spectacle from the Barenaked Ladies—your favourite.

When you’re done eating, Harry collects up all your dirty crockery and leaves a peck to the top of your head as he passes. While he does the washing up, you take the clothes out of the washing machine and put them into the dryer, then add a second load to the washer.

You finish your task before him, so you head into the living room and start looking for something to binge for the day. When Harry does reappear, now only in his boxers, he snatches the remote out of your hand, wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you down onto the sofa with him. You yelp as you tumble into his lap.

“What do we need to catch up on?” he asks, barely struggling with breath as he rearranges you with ease.

You wind up with your legs draped across his lap, the rest of your frame curled into his side. You make an attempt to swipe the remote out of his hands, but he holds it aloft with a shouted, “No!”

Heaving a sigh, you give up. “Silent Witness is back on. Or there’s, like, ten new murder documentaries on Netflix.”

He gives you a funny look. “Anything that doesn’t involve death?”

You scoff.

“Please. You love it.”

“I’m concerned you’ve watched so many at this point you could easily murder me and get away with it.”

“And you’d be right,” you deadpan.

He barks a laugh. “Fine. Murder in the day, rom-coms at night.”

“Good plan.”

— — —

Some hours later, when the low January sun is just past its highest point, the two of you vacate your nest on the sofa for some lunch. While Harry puts something together from the scraps in the fridge, you find the bits you need to paint your nails. Once you’ve eaten, you set everything up on the coffee table.

“What are you doing?”

Peering up at him from your seat on the floor, you answer, “I’m painting my nails.”

He’s quiet for a moment, curiously studying his own nails. “Will you do mine too?”

You fight the twitch of your mouth. “Sure. Pick your colours out.”

He joins you on the floor to rifle through your polishes. “What are you having?”

“Blue. Dark glitter and pastel.”

“I want the same.”

“Alright,” you say with a giggle.

“Can I paint yours?”

“If you like.”

So, with your insane murder documentary on in the background, you take turns to paint each other’s nails over the coffee table. He’s meticulous and particular with his work—tidying your cuticles, filing your nails to an even length, and never painting outside the lines. He also applies cuticle oil when he’s finished.

“Only thing missing is the warm flannel massage,” you joke.

He gives you another of his funny looks. “Do you want that?”

“No,” you chuckle.

“I’ll do it,” he insists, “hang on.”

“Harry, it was a joke!” you call after him as he runs from the room.

A minute later, he returns with a steaming flannel in hand. Retaking his seat, he leans over the table and takes each of your hands in turn, massaging your fingers and palms with the hot cloth.

“How do they look?” he asks as you admire your fresh manicure.

“They’re perfect,” you declare. “In fact, I’m concerned my abilities aren’t up to scratch.”

Your fiancé scoffs. “Don’t talk bollocks. They’ve always looked good.”

Deciding to keep quiet, you snatch his hand in one of your own and the cuticle stick in the other. While you prep his nails for polish, you keep an ear trained on the TV and what’s happening in the story. Harry remains suspiciously quiet, but you can feel his gaze on you all the time—not what you’re doing to his nails, but on you. It should be unnerving. Maybe even disconcerting, but you actually find it oddly relaxing. You’re so used to having his eyes on you—though it has always boggled you why he’d want to—it’s a comfort. You feel safe with him.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter at something said on the telly, and you catch Harry’s nose wrinkle.

“That’s grim,” he agrees under his breath.

“You gonna do that to me one day?” you tease.

“What? Quarter up your dead body and shove it in a barrel?”

“Yeah.”

He barks a laugh. “No way. You’re no use to me dead, darling.”

“Aw. That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs.

— — —

The sound of a cork being popped causes your head to lift from where you’d been staring thoughtless at the rising bath water. You find Harry standing in the doorway to the bathroom, two wine glasses slid between his long fingers and a bottle of something bubbly in the other.

“What’s that?” you ask, swirling the water around with your foot to even out the temperature.

Steam swirls seductively through the air, rising from the tub in wafts and waves. Lavender and chamomile candles burn in the corners and on the windowsill. Your bath time playlist fills the otherwise silent room, featuring pandemic Taylor Swift and early London Grammar tracks.

“Wine, duh.” Harry places one glass on the lip of the tub and the other on the floor.

You watch bewildered as he fills both. “What for?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

He kisses his teeth and shakes his head, his response an exasperated, “So many questions.”

You roll your eyes as you strip out of your clothes, knowing well enough you’re not going to get an answer to any of them. Also, who really cares what the wine is for? You’re an adult with no work commitments tomorrow.

Harry sits beside the tub using a stolen pillow from your bed to cushion his backside. While you talk more wedding plans his hand dangles in the water, sometimes just swirling the water around idly, other times gliding a finger up and down your arm, your waist, your thigh.

His touch is intoxicating, and you find yourself sinking lower into the water.

His gaze trails to your legs where they’ve subtly spread for him. Expression hungry, he dances his fingers across your inner thigh and up to your pussy.

The conversation naturally drifts off as he starts teasing your clit, his chin now resting on the side of the tub to watch his work.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, he’s done it so many times—a talented man with talented fingers. Perhaps not quite like this, though, set up in the bathtub, but it works all the same. In fact it might be even better this way.

He works his way around your needy clit and then into your wanting heat with his finger, causing your body temperature to spike. You moan and gasp your way through his clever ministrations, having to bite down on your own finger when he adds a second to take up more space.

What actually finishes you off, unbelievably, is when he leans in to kiss you.

When you’ve calmed down he slowly removes his fingers, and he’s about to wipe them on a towel, but you snatch his hand and clean them up yourself before he can. He groans and kisses you again.

With your legs like jelly, Harry helps you rise out of the bath and onto the solid, heated bathroom floor. He finds your towel and wraps it around you like a well-sated little burrito. He brings you into his arms, your body flush against his, and he pecks the tip of your nose ever so lightly. You can’t help but smile up at him, because you seem to have found the man who is the exact perfect mix of sweet and spicy. Your smile brings out his own—dimples and laugh lines and all.

“Shall we get a takeaway?” he asks, breaking the spell you’d found yourself in.

“I’ve bought stuff in for dinner!”

“Ah, we can have that tomorrow.”

“Harry,” you scold.

“I really want Thai.”

“You always want Thai.”

“That’s not true. Yesterday while you worked late I had sushi.”

“But was that really just a substitute for Thai while I wasn’t home?”

“Nope. I really wanted sushi.”

“Sure.”

“Come on, bab,” he starts nudging you towards the door, “go put your jim-jams on, and I’ll put the order in and set the lounge up for movies.”

“You don’t know what I want,” you argue, digging your heels in.

“You have the same thing every time, my love.”

“Well maybe I want something different.”

“No, you don't.”

At the entrance to your bedroom, he whips off your towel and shoves you through the door. “Go on.”

— — —

Harry’s phone starts chirping on the coffee table when you’re nearly done with your first film. His head is in your lap, knees up with his white-socked feet pressed against the arm of the sofa. Your hands are in his hair, freshly painted nails scratching his scalp. You love the noise he makes when you do it—he purrs like a kitten.

Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney bicker their way around Sydney on the telly, with Glen’s abs and Sydney’s chest on display for the entirety of Australia to see. Not that you’re complaining.

Harry blindly reaches for his phone while moving as little as possible, and lifts it high to check the caller ID.

You wince at his mother’s name on the screen because you know he’ll never turn her down if he’s free, even though it’s your first day off together in months and you’re in the middle of a film. This isn’t to say you have anything against the woman—you don’t. She’s amazing, kind, and generous.

But…

“Pause the TV, bab?”

Harry is a mummy’s boy.

And sometimes, just sometimes, you don’t feel up to listening to their conversation for an hour.

Still, you love the man and his mother, so you pause the movie and paste on a smile that portrays interest. Anne asks about your day, how work is going, how the wedding planning is coming along, and fortunately these are all things you can give invested updates on.

Conversation naturally turns to Harry’s sister, the baby, and the next time you’re all free at the same time. Your work is unpredictable, so as always you can only give the disappointing, unhelpful answer of “You’ll let her know soon.”

You’re not sure exactly how long you end up on the phone with your mother-in-law-to-be, but it’s approximately one whole glass of wine. As soon as the call ends, Harry curls up right back next to you, his head returned to its favourite place in your lap.

Another two full films later—10 Things I Hate About You and 13 Going on 30—you finally hit your limit and decide to call it a night. You do a quick tidy up, clearing the mess of your dinner and that second ‘celebratory’ bottle of wine. Not wanting to wake up to a mess, the two of you tag team the dishes, although Harry spends the first few minutes clinging to you from behind and feeling you up in lewd ways.

It’s late by the time you’re done. You can’t fight the yawning you’re doing, and your body is close to shutting down. The ascent of the staircase to bed looks like a mountain.

“Want a piggyback?” Harry offers with a peck to your cheek.

“Yes please,” you say, still yawning.

“Climb on, then.”

You scramble ungracefully onto his back, your arms fastened around his neck and your legs hooked in the crease of his elbows. He carries you up the one flight with criminal ease and straight into your shared bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, settling you back on your feet.

Smothering another yawn, you nod as you stumble toward the bed. “I am. How can I be so tired after doing nothing all day?”

He smiles down at you, green eyes shiny and hooded. “You’ve worked hard recently. It’s probably catching up to you.”

You grunt in response. His hands paw at your clothes so you allow him to undress you. Once you’re both naked you tumble into bed.

Finding yourself back in an innocent tangle of limbs, you sink against the warmth of his body.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Harry prompts, his lips brushing your temple.

Your finger traces the lines of tattoos on his chest—the swallows, the butterfly, the ‘g’ and the dates. “No idea.”

“Walk?”

“No.”

“Drive?”

“Maybe.”

“Noted.” He giggles, kissing your temple where his lips rest. “I know just the place to go.”

“Yeah?”

He hums. “I think you’ll like it.”

“If you’re with me, I’m sure I will.”

His arms tighten around you, and you reciprocate his grip, burying your face into his neck.

“I love you, H,” you mumble, on the cusp of unconsciousness.

And just as you slip into that dark, warm abyss, you hear his whispered, “I love you, too.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fiance!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot

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visenyaism · 11 months ago

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tyrannical king maegor dashboard simulator

🐉queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her nephew the King Aenys I Targaryen. Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has returned to the capital to claim his father’s throne.

💫 sevensent Follow

crusty incest king died. FLOP!

💫 sevensent Follow

wait MAEGOR?

🥔 bowlofbrown

this job fucking sucks. finished my shift and i cant even clock out because i got lost underneath the site.

#dark as shit down here #never working construction again

💌 maidens-smile Follow

i literally cannot believe how many supporters of m*egor i see on my dashboard every day when he is literally flaying and torturing so many seven-blessed poor fellows just for practicing their religion and saying incest is bad??? he’s literally outside my city waiting to burn us all to death DNI if you support him

🪨 dragonstoner Follow

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived the High Septon. He previously denounced King Maegor and his wives as “the abomination and his whores,” and passed shortly after Dowager Queen Visenya and King Maegor flew their dragons to the gates of Oldtown and threatened to burn the Starry Sept.

🪽 maegors-wins Follow

i for one think “the cruel” is a bit unfair given how he has done so much to uplift women’s voices and free us from religious tyranny like. named the first female heir in westerosi history? improving the infrastructure in king’s landing? decentralizing the power of the faith? he literally loves gay people so much he married three of them?

🦓 zorse-deactivated7849

op what does that eleven inch necromantic targaryen dick feel like because if you keep riding that hard I’m pretty sure it’ll rot off

🔮 tyanna

in seven days you will begin to cough

#twelve. btw

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her great-nephew Aegon Targaryen, henceforth to be known as “The Uncrowned.” Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has slain him and his dragon Quicksilver over the gods’ eye for trying to usurp his throne.

🌞 ullerihardlyknowher Follow

why is this always how i find out how do you know this before even cravings moste popular

#also what the fuck is going on up there

🪰 florian-and-jonquil-on-nymerias-ship Follow

guys the oversexualization of king maegor is so problematic and insane considering he’s not only shy and married as a 13 year old but also is literally neurodivergent (has CTE)

🤲 aegonfort-top

lost my left hand for posting this

#it was kind of hot though

🗣️ towerstower Follow

was not into targaryen rule at all but if we are going to do it it’s kind of fun that we are being ruled by a super powered animated blood corpse and his circle of freaky bisexual witches and also his mommy instead of like. a normie who also fucks his sister

🫀 imasharpknife Follow

seven hells you people would fuck a k*nslayer if they had valyrian silver hair

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

during these trying times when our king is accused of depravity and tyrannies abound throughout the land we must remember the most important truth: the brackens are still a people spawned from the lowest of the seven hells

🐎 brackennation

KILL YOURSELF. Lord Gonzo Tully himself AS YOU KNOW literallyyyyyy gave us the right to move the boundary stones over the tributary. but i wouldn’t expect a blackwood to acknowledge basic laws and rights you’re just too busy doing blood sacrifices to your nasty heathen tree god.

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

as soon as i figure out why balerion is overhead rn im coming over to kill you. btw

🐎 brackennation

wait looks like he’s headed towards harrentown

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

oh cool. KILL YOURSELF

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

hi guys!!! sorry i’m a sennight late posting this, my brother got killed and then one of my other brothers got tortured to death and then my great-aunt died and i ended up having to flee dragonstone for storm’s end and it was kind of scary lol. anyways here’s the update as promised!!!

🌟 maidensgrace Follow

i wish Balerion did get you RPF is literally soooooo problematic. look to your sins op

#daenys the dreamer and nymeria weren’t even alive at the same time????

❤️ lanadelrhaena

i think you did a great job. glad you’re safe xx

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

YOU HAVE INTERNET IN THE KEEP???? HIIIII

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #rhaena’s only public comment during her time in the keep is telling her baby sister she wrote good rpf

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rhyslarsenlover · 3 months ago

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title: collision

warnings, etc: rafe x pogue!reader, steamy kiss scene

my library

“watch your step," an annoyed voice cuts through the air as you collide with the solid frame of someone familiar. your gaze lifts to realise who it was. rafe cameron.

“you watch your step, kook," you snap, spitting the words back at him, your instinctive response to his arrogance kicking in.

rafe was kook royalty, and it was a well-known fact that he treated pogues like shit on his shoe. you rarely bumped into him, paths crossing at only a handful of events and settings. this was unfortunately one of them, at your place of work, the wreck.

hence your afterthought of ‘oh shit,’ as you realised your words escaped your mouth before you could stop yourself. you really needed to stop doing that, it was becoming a bad habit and jj was a perfect example of how that could be problematic. instead of apologising - because let’s face it, you were not going to apologise to him of all people - you step back and walk away from the situation.

you found yourself outside in the work break area, trying to collect your thoughts. that was when you sensed it, that same heavy, electric presence you had come to recognise. without turning around, you already knew he was there.

“you’ve got a lot of nerve,” you muttered, pretending to focus on the view of the beach, though your heart raced as he approached. “maybe it’s you who’s got the nerve,” he replied, his voice laced with something darker than usual.

you turned to face him, noticing his jaw was tight with frustration. “you think you're better than me, don’t you?" he said, taking a small step closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

crossing your arms over your work uniform, you raised an eyebrow, “better? no. but i certainly don’t think i’m like you."

he took another step forward, his presence swallowing up all the space between you. you could feel the heat radiating off him now, making your pulse quicken despite your best efforts to remain indifferent.

“then maybe you should stop pretending like you can talk to me like that without consequences," rafe said quietly, his voice taking on a sharper edge. you swallowed hard, but kept your chin high, not backing down. “you don’t scare me, rafe."

there was a long silence as rafe studied you, his eyes intense, like he was trying to figure you out, trying to decode you.

“i wonder how long that attitude is gonna last, especially when you keep pushing me." before you could respond, he stepped closer, so close that the air between you two felt like it was on fire. for a moment, you forgot to breathe, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place.

rafe’s voice was barely a whisper, though you could hear the unrelenting emotion beneath it. “maybe i’ve had enough of being your enemy."

for a moment, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes, something that wasn’t just anger, but before you could respond, he closed the distance entirely. your heart skipped a beat, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you.

he paused, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, waiting for something. maybe for you to push him away. or maybe for you to give in.

you didn’t move. you couldn’t.

and then, in one fluid motion, rafe leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was almost tentative at first. it wasn’t like the anger-fuelled words between you two. it was something different, something unexpected.

the kiss deepened, and there, in the quiet of the afternoon, something shifted. you didn’t pull away. you didn’t want to. a small whimper left your lips and vibrated against his. his hands travelled to your ass, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer. the squeeze caused your lips to part again in shock, allowing him to skilfully slip his tongue into your mouth. and it all started to make sense to you, why humans kissed. in a way, it was almost a preview of what else he could do with his mouth. ‘fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this,’ you thought, yet you didn’t pull away. instead your stomach flipped when you heard a low groan from his lips. holding onto his strong shoulders, you moved your hips against him, needing something to relieve the ache between your legs.

unfortunately, he came up for air, his breath heavy and eyes still intense as if searching for something in you. “fuck...” he let out, lust plastered across his features.

you swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. “what was that?” you whispered, voice shaky from the mix of confusion and something else that you didn’t know you could feel for him.

rafe looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “i don’t know. but i’m not walking away from this.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #drew starkey #rafe x pogue!reader #obx pogues #rafe imagine #obx x reader #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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seventeenreasonswhy · 1 year ago

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SVT reacts to your toxic ex at a party!

OT13!Seventeen with GN!Reader

Warnings/Content: SFW! Light angst, some fluff-ish/sweet comforting, but also some members choose violence!, nonconsensual advances/touching from Y/N's ex! 😠

Situation: You're at a house party with your (relatively) new partner, <SVT member>, and you unfortunately run into your toxic ex. Things didn't end smoothly, and so many awful things that you brushed off while you were together have flooded into your mind since the breakup, filling you with resentment towards them and (misplaced) anger at yourself.

But tonight, to keep the drama to a minimum, you end up putting on a brave face and avoiding your ex for most of the night. But... eventually they get really wasted and approach you while you're waiting for the bathroom by yourself...

Situation, cont.: Your annoying, drunk ex loudly complains about your breakup and how much they miss you... The whole interaction makes you uncomfortable, so you try to deescalate the situation and exit the conversation... But they drunkenly grope you!

You push them away, fully angry now, but they are persistent! After a minute, you start feeling genuinely violated. This obviously enrages and upsets you! You push the problematic ex away with more force, your night now totally derailed. Thankfully you manage to get away from them.

All you want is to leave the party, but you can't even think straight. You don't want there to be too much of a scene, so in your flustered state, you just head toward the door. But your new partner <SVT member> notices you heading out visibly upset and...

Author's Note: This is so K-drama haha! But I just love thinking about protective Seventeen lol! 🤷‍♀️

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Seungcheol

sees red. needs to find the asshole right away. he starts charging off in a blind rage, until you physically get in his path and tell him that the best thing he can do is get you outta there. he takes a second to calm down, but once he realizes that you're as upset as you are, he becomes totally focused on making sure you're ok, and his anger fizzles away. (he hates that son of a bitch tho.)

Jeonghan

gets visibly angry, which you've never seen before. he takes a sharp breath in through his nose, looking away from you for a moment and cursing your ex under his breath. He composes himself quickly though and asks if you're ready to get out of there, and you are so relieved that you cry some more. he wipes the tears from your face and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek, silently putting his arm around you and guiding you toward the door.

Jisoo

is very upset! he knows that that asshole is simply being pathetic— desperate for your attention even though they treated you like shit. what the fuck is wrong with them? these are thoughts that jisoo has the tact to keep to himself until you are in the car on the way back to his place. he'll put on a cozy movie and cuddle you until you forget all about that loser.

Junhui

is pissed! he's silent but you can feel his energy change! you quickly tell him that you want to get out of there before he has time to really process what you told him, and before you know it he's driving you to his place. it all hits him in the car and he can't stop yelling "that fucking son of a bitch!" which you find... kind of cute.

Soonyoung

is very drunk!!! haha sweet tiger loves to party. and he can't hide his true feelings when he's this drunk to save his life. he immediately yells out your ex's name, with a serious growl of "where the fuck are you?" he turns some heads, and it takes you, DK and Mingyu to hold him back from beating the shit out of this asshole. It takes a long time for him to calm down. He is screaming nasty mean shit at your ex the whole time! you feel kind of embarassed about the whole scene, but deep down you're flattered that soonyoung would get so defensive on your behalf.

Wonwoo

silent and seething. he listens as calmly as he can, gently brushing tears from your face, holding your face between his hands. he whispers to you sweetly, asking you if you want him to drive you home and you just nod and drop your forehead against his chest. he takes you in his arms and guides you out the door. in the car, he holds your hand reassuringly as he drives, letting you vent about this jackass as much as you need. in his head, he is imagining the world of pain he would inflict on this ex of yours for making you shed even a single tear!

Jihoon

wants to throw hands! but won't because he knows that that would just upset you more. he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and asks if you want to get out of there. you nod and he smoothly grabs his keys in one hand while lacing his fingers with yours in his other hand, guiding you to his car where he puts on your favorite music as you drive to his place. he doesn't pressure you to do or say anything, just gets the couch cozy and starts making you some late night snacks. (acts of service king right here).

Minghao

is very upset! actually he's disgusted by your ex's behavior. as he listens to you tell him what happened, he can tell that you're holding back tears. he hates to see you so upset! he can't help but look around the room, trying to find your ex. At the very least this asshole needs to be put in their place. but, you pull at his arm and he sees you looking so frustrated and embarrassed that he can't help but get the message. he wraps his arm around you and guides you to the door, watching you for any signal of what you want to do next.

Mingyu

he's so upset that someone would disrespect your boundaries like that! as he rubs your back comfortingly, he asks you what you want to do. stay, go for a walk and come back, or just leave? he'll do whatever you feel like doing, but you're so upset that you hesitate to decide. after a few beats, he runs a hand through your hair sweetly and makes the executive decision to take you home and get you ice cream on the way.

Seokmin

He's so angry! like seriously so mad that this person dared to touch you. he keeps his emotions (relatively) in check tho, because he doesn't want to upset you any further. he looks at you all worried, and then takes you in his arms. "I just want to go," you say tearfully into his chest. "Done," and he takes your hand and leads you to the car - opening every door, putting on good music, and making sure you don't have to even lift a finger for the rest of the night.

Seungkwan

smoke is coming out of his ears! he's seeing red and nothing but red! will choose violence before you can stop him! the other members have to pull him off of your ex! his actions don't really make you less upset, but he is so mad on your behalf that you're kind of touched? you guys talk about it more seriously once he calms down and he apologizes for losing it. "I can't believe they would do that to you," he grumbles in the car. "I know," you say, and he looks at you so lovingly despite his anger that you realize how safe you feel with him.

Vernon

kind of outraged, tbh. he can’t believe this person would do something so immature and rude. he looks at you like he is really in pain and ends up being very soft because he hates seeing you upset. he doesn’t say many words, but he holds you and whispers in your ear that it’s fine if you want to leave, he’ll take you anywhere you want.

Chan

He's so furious! he can’t hide how mad he is! but he tries to get it together because he doesn’t want you to think that he’s angry at you. he awkwardly trips over his words because he’s so worked up, but once you put a hand on his chest and tell him that you just want to leave, he practically carries you princess-style to the car.

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lastoneout · 11 months ago

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Honestly, I don't say it often bcs I know how this site is but I really do think for a lot of survivors of abuse, especially abuse that went on for years and years, sometimes the message "it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong/to deserve this" while ABSOLUTELY TRUE* isn't actually super helpful. For a lot of us there's a LOT of guilt tied into it, and even if things were truly out of our hands we will not be able to accept that we are truly blameless, at least not at first, and maybe for some of us not ever. So being told "no dw you didn't do anything wrong <3 <3 you're innocent" feels...idk like some toxic positivity style lies. It doesn't make me feel better, because I still do feel like there were things that happened that were my fault, that were in my control, even an ethicist or god or whoever could look me dead in the eyes, weigh all the facts, and assure me of my complete innocence, and I still wouldn't believe it. (Tbh, you have to be ready to forgive yourself and trying to force it early does more harm than good.)

And I occasionally see movies and shows and stuff get roasted all to hell for having the audacity to go with a different message, to offer abused characters not a platitude about how they are innocent and should forgive themselves asap, but instead say "so what if it was your fault? so what if you fucked up? you're still alive, you still have time, your mistakes(or perceived mistakes) don't make you irredeemable scum who deserves to suffer, it's okay that you fucked up, what matters is what you do next, and even if the horrible thing was your fault in one way or another or you did actually hurt people, you still did NOT deserve to be hurt in turn" because people think that is like, admitting that the person in question is at fault when they almost always aren't....but as an actual survior, I'm sorry, you can tell me I'm innocent till the cows come home and I won't believe it. What I need to hear is that even if it was my fault I didn't deserve to be treated that way. I still deserve help. I deserve to keep going. I am not forever stained by my mistakes. I deserve a future free from this pain.

I think before we look at things in this like...grand moral way where we try to make sure we're sending the most Correct and Healthy Message Possible, sometimes it's worth asking if that message is actually the one the people it's about need to hear. I'm sure for some people it is very freeing to be told it's not their fault, but that kind of message does not resonate with me. And I, as well as people like me, deserve to expirience stories about us that are cathartic, that resonate, that make us feel seen, and to not have to see everyone and their mom throw a fit because what helps us is "problematic".

Anyway this has been mulling around in my head for a while and I def have a lot more to say about the way guilt manifests in trauma born of abuse, but yeah I just feel like this is something that should be talked about when we bring up abuse narratives and how well written they are and if they send the Correct Message, because the "Correct Message" is never going to be the same for everyone. And that's true of ANY demographic you could choose to represent!

Like some disabled people might enjoy the "magically healed" trope while others find it offensive. Some trans people like stories where transitioning is easy as drinking a potion or getting a fancy futuristic surgery and some find that that trivializes their struggles. Some queer people want stories where there's just no homophobia at all, others find that a world without it feels fake and patronizing. Some women do want to read stories about how keeping hearth and home is noble and empowering and others want read about women who have other jobs and never have kids or get married. For some of us "you're beautiful no matter what" is lovely and some of us just want to be told being fat and hairy and having acne and scars and shit is normal and fine. Or, like the last post I reblogged says, sometimes "you're not a burden" doesn't hit as well as "being a burden isn't a bad thing". No one type of representation is ever going to work for everyone, and that doesn't mean one type of rep is objectively wrong and the other is objectively right.

So yeah, the next time you find yourself angry because you think a story is sending the wrong message about a marginalized or harmed group, maybe stop for a second to ask yourself if it's actually harmful...or if you're not the person who the story is speaking to, and if there's someone it is talking to who desperately needs to hear what it has to say.

(*Getting ahead of this now: Do not put words in my mouth. I am not saying that any abused person in any way deserved their abuse or was at fault for it happening, that is not up for debate. The fault is always in the hands of the person who chose to hurt them. I'm just saying it's nuanced and complicated and guilt is a huge fucking issue that survivors have to deal with all the time and it's not wrong to acknowledge that some of us are always going to feel like we did something wrong and not be eased by being told otherwise even if the person saying it is 100% correct and/or means well. I do not have time for people who are going to willfully misinterpret me. You will be blocked.)

#ask to tag #media analysis #I guess??#cw abuse mention #idk what to tag this as #loo writes

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lumi-waxes-poetic · 11 months ago

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re: the Neil Gaiman shit

In light of recent revelations, it is very likely you or someone in your circle is seriously rethinking their relationship to Neil Gaiman's books.

That's perfectly natural. But if I might offer a word of advice (which of course you may do what you like with, I'm not god)?

If his books ever meant something to you growing up, and some part of you, no matter how small, refuses to let them go? That's okay. Don't devalue or burn cherished things just because the Author is a Horrible Person.

God only knows that if that were the requirement, we'd have little left to enjoy in the world.

If you feel the need to have a reckoning with your bookshelf, do not let my words stop you. Keep or discard his books at your own recognizance. Just remember that he is merely the author of these books: he is not the books themselves. If ever his books communicated something Good and True to you, do not feel pressured to throw that Good and True thing away just because the source was less good than you thought it was.

Despite his(overwhelmingly probable) guilt, Neil is ALSO one of the genuinely best writers we've had in DECADES. This will understandably complicate his legacy. As much as we like things to be simple, people are often multiple things simultaneously, and we often will dislike or even hate some of those things.

Was Neil being a hypocrite when he supported feminist and LGBTQIA+ causes while also being a huge... <gestures to all the allegations>? Very definitely. But I don't want to see the genuine strides his support helped make possible fall away just because his hypocrisy was revealed. I don't want to see people ignore or undermine the frankly EXCELLENT MESSAGES in a lot of his books just because the author didn't live up to the standards he wrote about.

This isn't about absolving Neil in the slightest. I hope he gets whatever justice he's due. But don't punish yourself arbitrarily for it. If you have decided that now is the time to move on from his books forever, I don't blame you. If you decide to keep reading his books and they inspire you to be a better person than him, that's just as awesome. Spite that sunnuvabitch with his own works.

It is my hope that people can and will continue to enjoy his stories, and take home from them some excellent messages, long after he faces justice for his actions as a person. He wouldn't be the first author whose works were forgiven long after his personal harms were done; literary history is replete with such individuals -- Lord Byron, Virginia Woolfe, Robert E. Howard, Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Vladimir Nabokov, etc. The list goes on and on for as long as one wishes to peruse it. Their problematic acts as people cannot and should not be ignored, but neither can nor should their works. Perhaps Neil Gaiman is in good company, then, as we add his name to that list. A brilliant author, with brilliant works to his name, but a far less than brilliant man.

Only you can decide how your relationship with the books you have read will work out. You alone have the power to determine what authors you read and whose works shall adorn your bookshelves.

Don't let the crowd tell you what you're allowed to read, but perhaps don't discount the crowd's opinion out of hand on this one either. They do, after all, have a point.

#neil gaiman #neil gaiman allegations

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ohdeerfully · 10 months ago

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Hello! Just gonna take a second and say I freaking LOVE your writing! I myself am a die-hard simp for Alastor…but enough about that! (Apologies for the long request)

Could you write one were the (fem) reader is besties with Angel dust,they share a close enough bond to cuddle with each other. Y’know since they’re like best friends and whatever they just find it entertaining. Soon enough, Alastor catches on with this consistent occurrence. Since he has a huge crush on the reader, he begins to grow jealous of the interaction. One night he knocks on her room door, at first he (tries and fails) to hide his feelings and weirdly feels the crave for affection. Which is very unlikely of him considering he’s not of fan of physical contact.

But the reader, being the smart little bastard that she is, sees right through his actions and grows suspicious. He admits his crave for affection, surprisingly very slyly.

The reader has no problem whatsoever with giving affection. So, he and the reader happily cuddle and she pets the fluffy deer ears on his head. She also catches his little deer tail wagging like crazy and she giggles at that. Leaving Al flushed and embarrassed. She gives him a little kiss and they stay like that the rest of the night :). This is just straight fluff and jealous Al.

hello alastor nation.... sorry for going super MIA for one million days,, ive honestly not been super interested in hazbin lately and just been busy in general but!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cranked this bad boy out (as in i struggled to write it for like a month so sorry if its super janky) cuz i miss writing and i miss our boy. i didnt follow your request perfectly towards the end but i hope u enjoy it anyway!!! very fluffy very ooc but who cares. also not proofread so if u notice anything glaringly bad keep it a secret

By The Moonlight

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: alastor is ooc sorry.. it comes with the fluff. hes also lowkey toxic momentarily but whats new

masterlist join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Angel Dust was one of the first demons that you met after falling into Hell over a year ago—and, despite his generally off putting and sarcastic personality he was the first demon that was actually kind to you. So, obviously, you found yourself practically glued to his hip on the day-to-day. While at first he seemed annoyed by your constant presence, the bond slowly became mutual as he found himself trusting you and opening up his tightly guarded true self.

Life at the Hazbin Hotel wasn’t much different except for one considerably problematic detail: the Radio Demon. While the relationship you had with Angel Dust was very affectionate, it had always remained platonic, but with Alastor…

Who in their right mind would fall in love with that demon?

You asked yourself this constantly, often beating yourself up for it when you felt heat against your cheeks in his presence or when your eyes trailed along the curves of his ears as they moved. This is so embarrassing.

It helped a bit that he seemed to avoid you in particular, often coming up with excuses to end a conversation and leave the room whenever he saw you come in. Or… was he doing that because he knew you had feelings for him and was just avoiding you at all costs?

Lounged comfortably on a lobby couch, cuddled next to Angel, you tried not to think too hard about it, especially now during one of Charlie Morningstar’s regularly scheduled Guest Bonding Experiences where… Everyone was present. While Alastor never agreed to join any actual scenario, he seemed to enjoy watching Charlie try (and often fail) to gentle parent a crowd of sinners, to which his motives were unknown but still questionable. You knew how dangerous the Overlord was but couldn’t help but stare a little too long at him as he joined the room.

It scared the shit out of you when his piercing red eyes seemed to snap to meet your gaze, followed by a nearly unnoticeable tightening of his grin. You quickly looked away, trying to play it off by looking at everybody else as well. Angel’s arm, which was thrown around your shoulder, nudged lightly.

“You okay? Ya leg is jumpin’ like a jackhammer down there.”

You composed yourself and reassured him that everything was fine.

Today Charlie was encouraging different pairs of demons to share what they like about eachother and admit something they should work on within themselves. Like clockwork, the activities went by awkwardly and eventually derailed way off Charlie’s original plan. She was always able to quickly adapt, but even she could hardly settle the group of rowdy and crude demons when things got out of hand.

Vaggie didn’t take long to get fed up and quieted the noise with a few shouts. Charlie placed a grateful touch against her arm before clearing her throat.

“Okayyy… back on track. Uh,” Her eyes glanced around before finally landing on you. She beckoned you up. Your mouth opened to reject, to complain, to do anything to get yourself out, but a sharp glare from Vaggie shut you up before you could even form words. You heard Angel snicker as you grimaced before peeling yourself off the couch and standing in the center of the room.

“Alastor!” The name made your stomach drop. “I know you don’t usually like to play along, but h–” She was hushed by a simple raise of his hand.

“My dear,” He said with a light, almost mocking chuckle. The static in his voice tickled goosebumps up your arms. “If you know I don’t join these frivolous games, why would you ask? Besides… I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

The way his eyes glanced up and down with what you could only read as contempt or disgust made you feel sick, but somehow angry at the same time.

“Fuck is your problem, man?” You didn’t even expect yourself to speak, words tumbling from your lips before you could properly think about who you were talking to. “You think you’re better than me or something?”

A pretty rhetorical question, considering his status as an Overlord, but you couldn’t stop yourself in the heat of the moment. Maybe it was embarrassment, or hurt feelings, or a bit of both or something else entirely, but you wanted to hit him so bad right now.

There was a hush in the room, save for the growing aggression in the buzz of Alastor’s radio frequency. By the way his eyes darkened with malice, you could only assume the plethora of ways he was imagining killing you right now.

“You’re lucky I am better than you,” He said in a dangerously quiet tone, leaning his height over yours. You clenched your fists and stared back in his eyes, though your knees felt a little weak. “If you weren’t such a waste of my time you’d be dead where you stand.”

If your tongue didn’t feel like a hunk of steel you would’ve commented on how you’ve seen him actually take some delight in killing similar “low-lifes” like you. He held his position for a moment, towering over you. When he seemed satisfied with his intimidation he straightened himself back to his usual posture and tidied his bowtie. His eyes glanced towards Angel Dust, held for a moment, before he turned away and left the room.

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. As your adrenaline faded, you shakily returned to your spot on the couch next to Angel before your knees had a chance to give out. You felt two of his arms hug around you, but you couldn’t muster energy to return the gesture, every limb feeling useless.

“Man, you’re lucky, really had me worried there,” He tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. “The fuck he look at me for, though? I’da thought he was gonna come after me next with that look of his.”

“Hey…” You looked up at Charlie, who was tentatively hovering next to the couch. “I… even for Alastor… I didn’t expect him to react like that. He usually just says ‘no’ when I ask.” You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“He’s unpredictable. A surprise from him is really no surprise at all if you think about it.”

Charlie’s eyebrows upturned as she looked over you, worried at your shaky state.

“You should go get some sleep, we can… just stop here. I think everyone’s tired anyway.” She waved her hand to dismiss the other demons, hoping to get you more privacy considering everyone was just ogling at you. Angel gave you a tight hug before sauntering off, not so sneakily following after Husk.

Your stomach was churning and your throat felt dry, but it wasn’t even a guess as to why. You pissed off and basically challenged Alastor and somehow got away alive. You honestly started to feel proud of yourself for that fact.

After the others left, Charlie offered to help you to your room but you merely laughed and assured her it was no big deal. You just needed a moment. You waited for a while in the dark, empty lobby, your only company the slow tick of a large grandfather clock against the far wall.

Soon an overwhelming feeling of paranoia set in and you started to feel jittery and uncomfortable. You could swear to yourself that something was watching you, but when you carefully looked around you couldn’t see anything. You hastily stood up and left for your room.

You sighed aggressively as the door shut behind you, resting the back of your head against it. Man, you felt so stupid. You never had any chance with Alastor anyway, but you still cursed yourself for acting like such a fool towards him. Just as you lifted yourself from the despairing slouched position against the wooden door, a quick but gentle knock sounded from the other side.

Assuming it was Charlie making another “are you sure you’re okay” round, you fixed your face with a smile and opened the door. As soon as it opened just a crack, your senses were flooded with the buzzing hum of an uncomfortably familiar radio noise.

Ah. Shit.

The smile was frozen temporarily on your shocked face but then slowly dropped as instead of the sweet expression of Charlie you were expecting, you instead trailed your eyes up to meet the cold, red gaze of Alastor.

Okay. Yeah. He was just here to kill you now since nobody—notably Charlie—was here to see. Makes sense!

You tried your best to stand still and unbothered as a few seconds of silence ticked by, though you weren’t sure how well you’d be able to keep it up a second time, especially now that you were... Alone. In the dark. With Alastor. Your head was already starting to hurt from the overpowering sound of radio frequency. Somehow still, you mustered the courage to speak.

“Aren’t you supposed to say hello?” You weren’t exactly sure why you said anything remotely aggressive, though maybe you were already resigned to accepting your fate at the hands of the Overlord in front of you.

It seemed to trigger him to life again, as his eyebrows raised along with his smile. “Oh! My apologies, where have my manners gone! Hello!” You couldn’t really tell if the grin that stretched across his face held more hatred than usual.

Your arms were folded as you waited for him to continue, lips slightly pursed in worry at his presence.

Surprisingly enough, Alastor seemed to be unsure of what to say next. His mouth was slightly agape, almost like the words were caught in his throat and he was having trouble deciding what to say next. Which was odd for him, considering how he always seemed so thought out and sure of himself.

“You know, you shouldn’t be so physical with that spider friend of ours,” He finally said, which seemed incredibly forward, even by his standards. Your eyebrow quirked up in response, a frown forming at the way he so distastefully spat out his reference to Angel Dust.

“And why’s that?” “A dame like yourself… so… physical with that walking sex disaster. It’s unbecoming.”

“And… why are you telling me this? Why do you think I care what some old-fashioned radio host has to say about how I run my friendships?” You placed your hand on the door frame, ready to shut it in his face—but there was something odd about his expression that intrigued you just enough to keep it open.

Alastor took a step forward, sensing your intention to shut the door. You took a matching step backwards. Your heart was beating at a pace you didn’t know it was capable of, reaching a rush of adrenaline that you assumed was at the face of your (final) death.

“I can’t say why I’m telling you this. I can’t say why I even care what some weak creature like you is doing. But I do know that I want you to listen to me and I will tear that spider apart if it means you do.” Every few words brought him a step towards you, and, just as before, you met with the same amount of steps backwards. You felt the back of your foot touch a foot of your bed.

“So you’re jealous?”

An almost comical record-scratch-esque noise sounded from—you assume—his radio staff as his body stiffened and eyes narrowed. The ambience of radio static was momentarily gone. You yourself froze, unsure exactly what made you so bold all of a sudden. It seems the face of death is one hell of a drug.

“What? How… how dare you even suggest such a ridiculous idea,” Although the intent of his words were hostile, he seemed… flustered? His face was turned away slightly and you could see the corners of his smile trembling a little bit. Would you dare admitting to yourself it was oddly cute?

“Listen, man, I’m just calling it how I see it. You come to my room in the dead of night complaining about me snugglin’ with Angel Dust. Just as you said… why would you care? Unless, of course…” You trailed, leaving the very obvious end to your sentence open for interpretation.

Stiffly collapsing into a seated position on the corner of your bed made you realize how wobbly your knees had gotten as you were sure Alastor had been planning to kill you. You still weren’t positive you were in the clear, but your chances seemed a little brighter.

Alastor seemed to be battling some internal monologue because he still stood with his head turned from you. He was growing increasingly agitated, with the sound of his radio static returning and somehow getting sharper and louder. You wanted to try to pull him back into the conversation before he dipped out and never spoke to you again.

“You know, I’ve never really felt any real love for the people around me. Even when I was alive. I love Angel Dust, yeah, but… nothing beyond the friendship we have. But then I got to the hotel and–”

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t care. I’m not a therapist.”

“For a guy that cares so much about manners you sure love to interrupt,” You spoke in a teasing tone, though Alastor didn’t seem to appreciate the words anyway. “Plus, I mean… You’re still here. Listening.”

He pondered for a moment. You honestly were surprised he didn’t just teleport the fuck out of there the second you started talking about your feelings.

“I don’t know why I care about you.” He admitted, and you didn’t fail to notice the lack of his usual radio-filtered voice. As awkward as the words seemed falling from his lips, his piercing eye contact with you never wavered as if he was just trying to intimidate you into nonexistence so he didn’t have to deal with this.

When you patted the spot on the bed next to you, you didn’t actually expect him to accept the offer. What you expected even less was for him to sit just close enough for your shoulders to touch. He was stiff and likely uncomfortable, and… so were you. You really had no clue how you even got here.

Seconds felt like hours as you sat in silence, the barely noticeable prickling of static against your skin being the only thing keeping you present. Otherwise you worried you might pass out from how long your heart had been nearly beating out of your chest.

“What were you saying earlier?” His voice suddenly broke the silence, making you jump slightly. You looked at him, but he was busy looking out a window.

“What do you mean?” “I mean earlier when I, very rudely, I apologize, interrupted you. What were you saying… about when you finally got to the hotel?”

His voice had such a sweet sound to it when it wasn’t distorted like it went through a radio channel. You allowed your eyes to trace the silhouette of his face for just a moment, lit ever so slightly by the red of the moon being filtered in by the window. You didn’t dare let your gaze linger for too long just in case he turned back towards you.

“Ah, I thought you weren’t my therapist,” You joked lightly. He side-eyed you, eyebrows scrunching.

“Don’t push your luck here.”

You laughed breathlessly, struggling to find air to even speak. You were still so incredibly nervous sitting so close to him and speaking so intimate with him.

“Yeah, uh… When I got to the hotel I think I finally found someone I felt love for. Something beyond just friendship. And it’s a weird feeling.”

Your knees were almost touching his. You could’ve sworn you weren’t this close to him before.

“I don’t think you should say who that demon is.”

“I know.”

Silence passed between you two again, and he still remained fixated on staring out the window. Finally, after a few moments of quiet, he finally turned his gaze back to you. His eyes, although they glowed with a dangerous, murderous red, somehow entranced you. They always had, but something about being this close to him in the gentle lighting being cast in from the moon… you could almost drown in them.

Without much of a thought, your hand had risen towards his face. When he flinched away you were suddenly brought back to your senses and your hand froze midair. Before you could move away and throw out a million apologies, his clawed fingers wrapped over yours.

It was a strange sensation, feeling his hand against yours. His skin was far from warm, and you knew how much blood spilled between his fingers, yet…

You allowed him to pull you towards him, a tug at your wrist bringing your chest flush against his. Your head was under his chin, and you held yourself stiffly against him. You could tell he wasn’t so sure either, with the way his hand held a rough uncertainty at the base of your back and his clawed fingers dug just a bit too roughly into your skin as he held you against him.

Gently moving, you tested the waters of his tolerance of you taking matters into your own hands. Although this feeling was unknown to the both of you, you at the very least knew how to be comfortable.

You urged him to scoot towards the pillows, pulling him along and pressing him back down on his back. You moved slow, waiting for the smallest hint that he wanted you to stop, but it never came. You settled next to him, flush against his side and you guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

The stiffness ever so gradually left his body as he completely succumbed himself to you, allowing you to mold the two of you into an interwoven position, a closeness that the two of you desperately needed for each other. He would never admit this desire, but you knew by the fact you weren’t incinerated for trying to touch him that he needed this as much as you did.

Once settled, you traced featherlike fingers across his arm. You weren’t eye level with him, but you knew by the red glow in your peripheral that he was staring fixedly at you as if to study your entire being.

The moon eventually moved beyond your window, casting the room in complete darkness, your only sensation being the pressure of Alastor’s body against yours. There wasn’t even the slightest buzz of radio noise that seemed to always encompass his presence. His eyes must’ve been shut, too, as there wasn’t even a glow from them.

You let your eyes fall shut, enjoying the peace of the moment. You hadn’t the slightest clue what would happen in the morning—maybe you’d never even wake up if he got upset with some morning clarity.

You didn’t care too much, though. You’d just enjoy it while it lasted.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #ok bye again for seven months mwah #alastor x reader fluff #i think its impossible to write alastor fluff without him being ooc #most unromantic man ive ever seen

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rei-ismyname · 3 months ago

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Magneto arrives to save Iron Man

He's back and he's even hotter!

I LOVE his shit eating grin, rippling cape and muscles, and most of all his cunty posture. 'Hello Stark, check out these thighs.' It's true that his wife (Emma Frost, it's a sham thing but Tony catches feelings) sent Mags to rescue his dumb ass as he makes a huge mess in the Australian Outback, but this is a newly resurrected, kinder Magneto. I suspect he'd have done it anyway. For drama, if nothing else.

Tony only knew that one singular mutant was coming to bail him out. He didn't expect his 'nemesis' (citation needed) mainly because Tony was there when Magneto died on Arakko during Judgement Day. He's surprised, but not unhappy about it. Maybe. See, Mr Stark just had his shit kicked in, and he had hallucinations of the Master of Magnetism while knocked out.

T-Bag is feeling guilty about the whole Stark Sentinel situation (as he should. Not the first time Stark Sentinels have been made for genocide.) That guilt manifests with the face of Magneto, here to judge him. In a petulant reply to this most recent charge, Stark brings up some old shit ( X-Men #1 from 1963) but Mags has a zinger for him. Considering Stark's subconscious is doing all the talking, some part of him thinks he's just as bad as Silver Age Magneto. It's not a competition, but I think he's worse. Mr Military Industrial Complex Billionaire over here can fuck right off.

'The world doesn't need arms merchants' is both true and relevant. Tony has changed, he's been redeemed! Yet engines of death bearing his name are stalking the planet yet again and plan to purge it, having already carried out mutant genocide. Tony will never see any legal or social consequences for this, but perhaps he believes he deserves this judgement. I don't really care about Tony Stark, to be honest. I'm here for Magneto, and this is the war in Tony's subconscious when Max Eisenhardt arrives.

Mags isn't here to point fingers - he's here to save an ally. Red Elon Musk Feilong has a grudge over Arakko, and his fucking face when Mags doesn't know who he is delights me. I don't think Mags is being truthful - he SHOULD know who this ORCHIS clown is, but they've never met. He's been through a lot lately. Besides, they've got bigger fish to fry. Feilong has realised that the AI leopards are eating his face too, so they're on the same side for now and are stuck in a giant Iron Man suit without power.

Luckily, 'I am power.' Mags revitalises the monstrosity and rides to war with two billionaires. After he fucks up a ton of sentinels (a continuity error but whatever,) Nimrod sends one of his bodies (Madrox should sue) to stop them.

Mags is much more effective than the his last Nimrod fight, though he doesn't remember it. Nimrod is weak to Mysterium somehow so he makes the very problematic move of gassing Mags with Terrigen. WTF did he get that from? It's good to know Tony could have easily prevented IvX at any time. I'm sympathetic to everyone who had to deal with the rushed production schedule Fall of X received, but this is Looney Tunes shit.

Nimrod, you chump. You set yourself up for the 'awful lot of metal around here' Magneto classic. Speaking of metal, Mysterium just keeps getting better. SWORD did steal it from the Phoenix's clothes line, so whatever, it can do new stuff if it wants. It's alive, it loves Magneto, it hates Nimrod, and could take or leave Tony Stark. That's relatable. ORRRR, Jean is in the White Hot Room right now, after Moira stabbed her with a blightswill knife. She could be affecting the metal to get this Nimrod jerkoff. Sounds kinda silly - moving on.

Looney Tunes or not, I'm a sucker for Magneto hovering and saying dramatic shit. Preferably hurling vehicles around, but magic metal and a dickhead robot is close enough. Let it be known that Mags is the Mysterium Whisperer. Pretty obvious when you think about it, though his relationship with the miracle metal wasn't explored deeply.

Yes! Haha. Get Magneto'd, idiot! This Nimrod body is dead, as is the Mysterium and Tony's giant robot. Damn, they would have been useful. Anyway, bye losers! Mags has more fascist robots to kill in his wonderful cape. Thanks for fucking everything up only to help at the last minute. Enjoy the Outback (they don't, and Tony leaves a huge mess.)

#x men #x comics #magneto #fall of x #fall of the house of x #krakoa #emma frost #tony stark #nimrod #Feilong #the outback #marvel #comics #mysterium #sentinel buster #sentinels #arakko #max eisenhardt

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months ago

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5500 Follower Celebration: Tears of Pearl - Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @madisonbroxson1 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @readings-to-share @sameenbyhat

Companion piece to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

You’re wearing pearls, Tahitian black pearls to be exact.

It’s the first thing Eliot notices because it’s an unusual choice for a woman of your calibre. You society girls usually prefer diamonds, the bigger the better. That’s the first indication you’re not like the others, it’s not the last.

He spends a year getting to know you as your personal protection specialist. You hate the fact you have a bodyguard but he was hired by your fiancé Moreau after threats have been made by some of the people he’s pissed off.

“I can’t have anything happening to my investment.” He tells Eliot as he sits across from him at a desk that costs more than most homes these days. “This marriage opens up a lot of doors for me, gives me connections I wouldn’t have access to.”

“What does her father get out of it?” He’d asked as he flicked through your dossier.

“A cash injection into some of his more problematic businesses.” He’d said as he lounged back in his chair. “He can’t stand the shame of failing.”

You are everything that Eliot does not expect from someone whose a daughter in one of the founding families. He sees the work you do with those charities, the way you immerse yourself in it as if you’re trying to make up for the sins of those that came before you. You’re not content with cutting a cheque, you need to be involved and not in the public shit either, the stuff that would get you recognition, but the grassroots stuff. Teaching kids to read, sitting with the elderly who have no families and then there’s the homeless, the people who don’t have a voice.

The first time you sit down next to a veteran in the street Eliot almost hurls you right back up because you, you don’t seem to understand the risk that comes with being with Moreau. The fact the people who are trying to hurt him will use you to do it.

“Let me take five minutes to share a coffee and a sandwich with my new friend Joe.” You negotiate and he reluctantly agrees.

It’s not five minutes, it’s thirty because Joe, he’s non-threatening and watching you interact with him it’s fascinating. You don’t act like other people, you don’t talk over him, try to give him advice, you just listen and to a guy like Joe whose spent years being in the background, ignored, it’s overwhelming, which is why you take his hand when he gets a little upset, clasping it tightly in your own. He understands in that moment that you’re lonely, that you probably have been for a long time.

When you do come away Eliot’s silent because he isn’t sure how to articulate this new knowledge. It’s only when you get to the car that he notices your pearl necklace is gone, that you must have placed it into Joe’s cup.

“You gonna keep giving away all your jewellery like that?” He asks you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

“They’re just things.” You say distractedly, looking out of the window. “Things that could help other people who actually need it.”

That’s when Eliot realises how trapped you are in this world, it’s a gilded cage you were born into, not one that you want. When he looks back he knows that that’s the moment that things changed between the two of you, he saw you for you, not the role that Moreau had crafted for you.

Six months down the line, you’re wearing a different set of pearls, a more expensive set and Eliot’s tearing them from your throat, breaking the strands because you’re in the midst of a panic attack and the damn things are practically padlocked around your neck with a gold clasp that can only be undone with a key. The pearls scatter across the floor, rolling in all directions and that lock, he throws it out the window in disgust.

It’s another Moreau special. A collar to remind you who you belong to because he saw you talking to another man at a charity event, one that had paid you a little too much attention. He doesn’t know that Eliot spends most nights in your bed, that he makes love to you in the shower before he puts on his suit and pretends he’s been in his own room all along.

“I don’t want to marry him.” You sob as Eliot uses his thumb to chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks. He despises the kind of man that can do this to you, that steals away your autonomy, that tries to stamp out all the goodness in your soul.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he looks into your eyes. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I promise you I will.”

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#eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #leverage

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these-written-reveries · 11 months ago

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Selfish (katsuki ver.)

‣ Pairing: Katsuki x GN!Reader

‣ Genre: Flangst, Hurt/Comfort

‣ Summary: Katsuki is convinced that you are in love with Eijirou, and not him. He tries to do what he thinks is right by keeping his feelings suppressed and hidden from you, instead of trying to get between the happiness of the two people he cares about the most. His plan quickly begins to fall apart the moment you confront him, and his selfish urges take over.

‣ Warnings: Angst, Katsuki being sad and having low self-esteem, false unrequited love, making out, Reader uses the “girl’s” elevator (but we can just pretend gender plays no part in the placement of the dorm rooms in this scenario), the word “fuck” is used a lot, repeated use of "noose" metaphor? idk

‣ Word Count: 5,798

‣ A/N: There is a Kiribaku x Reader version of this here, if you’re interested!

Main Masterlist

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

He had begrudgingly accepted this truth a long time ago. Despite how it appeared on the surface, he was quite self-aware. Sure, it didn’t require that much self-reflection to figure it out, considering he’d been told this very truth by others around him multiple times throughout his life—at least by the ones that were brave enough to do so—but that’s beside the point. He still came to be aware of it, one way or another.

He could remember the early days of his youth as a spoiled, entitled brat. Even before his quirk developed, he always poised himself as superior to others. He was as selfish as they came. Throwing fits when he didn’t get his way, hurting people around him to ease the raging storm of feelings that were too big for his little body, always stealing the spotlight from others, expecting praise and rewards for every little thing he did. Kids are inherently selfish, to some degree, but little Katsuki blew every kid in his grade out of the water, in this regard.

Things didn’t improve all that much as he grew older, but he did get a little better. At least he no longer threw tantrums over not getting ice cream after school or every time he was told “no.” And he no longer sought praise for merely breathing. He preferred to truly earn his title as “the best” at whatever he decided to do—even if that meant knocking some other kids down to get there faster. A minor improvement, but his selfish nature was still wildly out of control. Even when he did recognize it, he didn’t care enough to fix it. He was already seen as an asshole; what was the point in trying to change the minds of people he saw as below him?

It wasn’t until he broke free of his ass-kissing, follower friends and met you and the other friends “extras” from his class at UA that he finally began to really see and care about his selfish ways—especially how they affected the people he truly respected and cared about. Katsuki wasn’t devoid of a heart, despite what many people believed. He wasn’t incapable of feeling remorse for his actions and of learning how to be a better person. He just never had the proper tools or guidance to be able to grow into the person that he, deep down, wanted to be.

That, and he didn’t have the same motivation before as he suddenly did when you stepped into his life. You pushed him to be better, just by being yourself. Katsuki was inspired by you from the moment he met you. The way you carried yourself and the way you managed to handle him and all that came with being his friend. It only made him respect you more. And as he inevitably began to fall for you, he felt the desire to be a better person for you grow even stronger. He wanted to prove to you that he was worth keeping around, even if he wasn’t always “the best” at everything. The last thing he wanted was to lose you over his problematic ways.

To his luck, you were one of the most tolerant people he had ever met. That didn’t mean you never called him out on his shit, though. Katsuki deeply valued you for that. He had grown to be more open and accepting of critical feedback, specifically if it came from you. How could he become a great hero, never mind a great man, if he refused any and all feedback that wasn’t positive?

That said, it still wasn’t easy for him to so easily accept when he was wrong. And it was even more difficult for him to push past his pride enough to apologize for it. But all it took was one look from you to make him give in and do just that. How you managed to gain such power over him, he’d never understand. If he wasn’t so damn in love with you, he’d hate you for it.

He still hated you for it. But in a “fuck you for making me love you so much” kind of way.

If it wasn't for his internal commitment to be a better person—one that you could be proud to know—he would have given into his selfish urges, stolen your heart, and claimed it as his a long time ago.

Katsuki had quickly come to learn that being a good person sucks.

“Oh, Eiji texted. He said he’ll be here soon! I invited him. Figured you wouldn’t mind. He said he needs all the help he can get for this upcoming exam,” you said as you began typing a message back to him.

“Fucking hell.”

“Huh?”

You looked up at Katsuki after hearing him grumble something unintelligible under his breath. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before he averted his gaze, gesturing to the open books in front of you.

“Nothing. Get back to studying! Do you wanna pass that exam, or what?”

You threw your head back as you groaned. “Can’t we just take a little break? Eiji’s not even here yet and we have so much time left to work on this!”

Katsuki pointed his pen at you. “You might have time, but I don’t. You’re lucky I’m even using my spare time to help you idiots with this!”

You rolled your eyes. “You wanted to study for this test too. And you’re the one always preaching about how it’s important to take breaks!”

Before he could respond, you shut your book and looked at him inquisitively.

“So…what were you thinking about before? You looked…more annoyed than usual. Am I annoying you?”

“What the hell do you mean? I don’t look like anything!”

He could see you trying to stifle a laugh, though behind it was a glint of concern in your eyes.

“You look like something is really bothering you, is all.”

“Yeah. You are! Shut up and get back to work,” he growled, though you felt no real malice behind it. You had quickly learned long ago not to take the hotheaded blonde’s rude attitude seriously, often times finding it to be more of a protective shield than anything else.

“Okay, whatever you say,” you said, holding your hands up defensively with a slightly amused smirk on your face. Katsuki huffed in response as he looked away.

Giggling at his strange, yet all too familiar behavior, you opened your textbook again, only to be distracted less than a minute later by another ding from your phone. Katsuki could already tell it was another text from Eijirou by the way you smiled at your screen when you read it. You only ever smiled like that when reading the redhead’s messages, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki thought as he stared at you from across the table, frustration and hurt bubbling within his chest.

The truth was, you had the strange ability to make his heart flutter and his stomach do flips and his hands sweat like crazy and fill his brain with so many thoughts of you, he couldn’t focus on anything else. You did all this just by existing as your stupidly beautiful, perfect self.

You even made him feel this way when you looked your “worst”. Beaten up after a bad fight, sleep deprived with bags under your eyes, after—very ungracefully—shoving a giant serving of food into your mouth, just waking up with messy hair and crusty eyes and morning breath, sick with snot constantly leaking out of your nose. All of this, and he was still head over heels, swooning over you like a fool. And dammit, did it piss him off.

Even worse, he knew you had feelings for his redheaded friend and not him. He couldn’t blame you for this. He was a damn lovable idiot. A good guy, all around. The kind of man Katsuki wished he could be more like.

He couldn’t blame Eijirou for loving you either. As far as he was concerned, how could anyone not fall for you?

Katsuki loved your entire personality—even the parts that frustrated him most. Especially those parts. On top of that, you were absolutely gorgeous. When he begrudgingly thought of you and Eijirou together, he couldn’t deny that the two of you would make an amazing couple—looks-wise and personality-wise.

It infuriated him to no end. He wanted to hate you both, push you away, relocate somewhere far away so that he’d no longer have to bear the pain of seeing the two of you flirting together, laughing at each other’s jokes, hugging one another, and inevitably doing all the things that couples do. All the things that Katsuki wanted so desperately to do with you.

But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. There was no way he could bring himself to not only truly hate you, but to go on living life without you. He would likely never admit it, but you had become so interwoven in his life and his heart, that an existence without you just seemed so bleak and empty.

So, as much as it pained him to sit through hangouts and study sessions and the like, all while bearing witness to how close, how touchy, how obviously in love, you were with Eijirou and not him, he chose to stick around and keep his mouth shut. He could have pulled the “dibs” card if he wanted to with Eijirou; tell him he loved you first, so he better back off and let him have you. But that wasn't what a good person would do. So instead, he made a solemn promise to himself not to utter a word about his feelings for you, ever.

For once, he saw exactly what he wanted, right in front of him, and he chose not to take it. He chose not to ruin whatever closeness he did have with you. But more importantly, he chose not to ruin you and Eijirou’s chances at finding the happiness that you both deserved, far more than he did.

It was the most selfless thing he’d ever done. And it was the hardest thing he’d ever done too. He felt his heart break every time he saw the affectionate way you treated Eijirou, but he bit his tongue. He tried to shove his feelings down deeper and deeper, but they kept coming back up, tightening around his throat like a noose until he choked.

The truth became quite apparent to him at one point. Loving you from afar would be his undoing. And maybe he deserved it? Maybe this was his punishment for being an asshole and tearing others down for his own benefit for all those years.

He’d take his punishment. Just so long as he could continue to know you, even if he wanted to know you so much more.

God, he fucking loved hated you.

After the previous day’s study session, Katsuki needed a break from the two of you. He planned to spend most of the day training and holed up in his dorm, just to avoid you as much as possible; to set his mind straight and get his feelings back where they belonged—locked away in a dark unlabeled box in his mind, along with all of his other unwanted thoughts and feelings. He was starting to lose his composure around you, and when that happened, he always tried to stay out of your way for a few days until he was “fine” again.

“Fine” had lost all its meaning months ago, and yet, he found himself saying it all too often.

“You okay, Kats? You’re not really on your A game today,” you said as you walked over to help him off the ground for the second time that day.

Katsuki scoffed, a low growl brewing in his throat as he spoke. “I’m fuckin’ fine. Wasn’t planning on having you idiots around, distracting me.”

You and Eijirou seemed to have the same idea about working out and training that day. Katsuki ran into you both on his way to the gym. Almost turned around and booked it back to the dorms, but you happened to see him and waved him over to join the two of you. You smiled happily as you greeted him. It pissed him off so much, but he couldn’t say no to you when you looked so damn cute, asking him to join you with those pretty eyes sparkling as they looked up at him.

He wanted to curse you out. Tell you to fuck off and leave him alone.

Get out of his fucking head, already! Stop torturing him with that fucking adorable smile that made his heart clench in his chest! Stop being so fucking nice to him!

But he bit his tongue, salvaged whatever little composure and willpower he had left, and joined you both to train.

And he fucking sucked the whole time. It only added to his inner turmoil even more. He was too distracted. Too focused on you and the way you looked so fucking good when you were focused, when you had sweat dripping down your skin, when you were looking at him with those determined eyes while sparring, when you didn’t hold back against him.

At least you were more focused on him than Eijirou, at the moment. Katsuki had insisted that you both took turns going against him until he kicked both of your asses. He was on round three, at this point. He had lost to you both a total of three times in a row.

He knew that you and Eijirou were starting to question his strange behavior lately. He practically stormed out of his own dorm the day prior during your study session together. He didn’t say a word. Just got up and left.

Why?

Because you and Eijirou. That’s why.

When he came back, things were awkward as the two of you tried to ask him about it. He didn’t look at either of you when he told you to leave, not wanting you to see his red, glossy eyes.

It was embarrassing, to feel this weak.

Eijirou knocked on his door later that evening to talk to him. He didn’t answer.

Now the two of you were obviously trying to pretend that everything was normal, for his sake; trying to gently coax whatever was bothering him out of his system in hopes that he’d come around and get out of whatever shitty headspace he was in. You were being good friends, like usual. Always so attentive and thoughtful and caring.

He wanted to scream.

This time, he managed to defeat Eijirou, but he could tell his moves were slightly slower. He was going fucking easy on him. The redhead giving him a pity win only managed to send Katsuki over the edge.

By the time it was your turn, he wasn’t even fully present in his body anymore. All he was focused on was winning one round. Just one solid win was all he needed.

He moved on autopilot, blocking and countering all your attacks swiftly as they came. Thankfully, you weren’t holding back. For a moment, he felt like he was finally winning at something. The suffocating feelings began to dissipate as the adrenaline high began to kick in, filling him with a sense of power and control.

Until you called for a pause.

“What the fuck! Why?!” he barked, smoke wafting off of his hot hands.

Eijirou held a hand out at him, signaling him to back off as he ran towards you. “Chill the fuck out man, they're hurt!”

“Huh?”

It was only then that he realized you were holding your weight on one leg, struggling to keep yourself balanced as you tried to stand on your own. Eijirou was quick to catch you before you fell.

You had an ugly burn on your leg from one of his explosions. He thought he had released it far enough away from you to dodge it. He was clearly wrong.

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy as he stared at you, frozen in place. Eijirou inspected your wound, offering you sweet words of comfort and praise as he carefully wrapped it with gauze.

Damn it.

Katsuki could barely breathe now. The noose growing tight around his throat again.

“Come on, little hero. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.” Eijirou lifted you up into his arms with ease, carrying you out of sight.

Your little whimper of pain shot straight through his heart.

Fuck.

“Come on, Katsuki!” Eijirou called out to him, slight urgency in his voice.

Katsuki remained frozen where he stood, hands clenched and chest heaving as he tried to fight back the tears that were building in his eyes. A million thoughts and feelings swirled inside of him, threatening to burst through the seams of his being.

“Kats?” Your voice sounded distant. It echoed in the background of his mind before it fully reached him.

“Go on without me,” was all he could say. He cringed at the way his voice wavered when he said it.

“Come on, man. You should-”

“Go!” Katsuki yelled, interrupting Eijirou’s attempt to change his mind.

All he heard after that was the sound of Eijirou’s footsteps as they faded away.

You and Eijirou had tried to reach out to Katsuki for four days. He somehow managed to avoid the two of you at every turn. He mostly stayed locked up in his dorm when school wasn’t in session. All calls went to voicemail. All texts left on read.

You even went as far as to try to get Sero or Mina to check in on him. Denki offered to give it a shot, but you declined. You knew he’d probably only aggravate him more, despite his best intentions.

Every plan of yours failed.

You missed your best friend. And despite Eijirou’s reassuring comments to you that he would come back soon, that he just needed some space, you were starting to crumble under the fear that maybe he wouldn’t. He had been acting strange lately, even before the most recent event occurred.

What if you had upset him? What if he was tired of being your friend? What if you were holding him back somehow?

Your thoughts spun in circles in your mind until you began to feel dizzy and sick to your stomach. After tossing and turning for hours that night, you headed down to the kitchen to make yourself some tea in hopes that it’d finally help you quiet your mind enough to allow you to get some much-needed sleep.

Thankfully, it did, because by the time Katsuki walked into the room to get some water after he couldn't sleep, you were passed out with your head on the table, your hair sprawled out messily around you and your half-empty mug of cold tea.

You looked beautiful.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki cursed you in his head as he stared down at your hunched over, sleeping form.

The common room was so quiet this late at night, he could clearly hear your little breaths with every rise and fall of your chest. You had drool slightly dripping out of one side of your parted lips and your cute fluffy bunny slippers on your feet—the ones he got for you that one day at the mall.

The sight made his heart flutter.

He huffed in a mixture of sadness and frustration as he turned to walk away, only to stop himself in his tracks after a few steps. He took one look back at you over his shoulder before sighing in defeat.

Walking closer, he worked up the courage to wake you and subsequently face you for the first time in four days. What came out was much more aggressive than he intended.

“Oi!”

You jumped and his heart clenched slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek as you looked up at him, sleepy and confused.

“Ka’ski?” your sweet voice, thick with sleep, filled his ears. He clenched his fists, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth.

“Go to your dorm. You’re gonna end up with a fucked up neck and back sleeping like that, idiot.”

He began to walk away after that, heading towards the elevator at the end of the room. He didn’t get far, though. The unpleasant screech of a chair on the hard floor, followed by the far more pleasant feeling of your hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him right in his tracks.

“Wait!”

“Go to bed, Y/N,” Katsuki warned. The last thing he wanted was to have whatever conversation you were attempting to start with him.

“No. I can’t sleep, anyway. I just keep worrying about you. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to fix it,” you implored.

Katsuki was tense under your grip, but he didn’t try to pull away, even as he let out a loud huff of frustration.

“Just fuck off, okay? There’s nothing you can do.”

You stared at the back of his head with so much pain and sadness in your eyes. Katsuki could feel your gaze on him. He knew better than to look back at you. That look alone would break his heart more than anything else could.

“I won’t ever stop trying, Katsuki. I care about you so much. I miss you so badly. Please, just talk to me.” Your voice was starting to waver slightly as you spoke. Katsuki hated himself for being the reason behind your sadness and tears.

Even still, he couldn’t let you in on this. He just needed more time to sort out his feelings and lock them away, where they belonged. But after four days, he was still struggling to get himself back in order. All of it was starting to consume him, distract him, make him perform badly as a student and a hero in training. That part only encouraged him to avoid you even more. He wasn’t going to let stupid feelings ruin everything he had worked so hard for.

His silence only pushed you to speak again.

“Katsuki?”

“No.” He pulled away from your grip, but you reached out to grab him again.

“Katsuki, please!”

He spun around to face you, eyes brimming with tears as he yelled in your face.

“What?! You just can't leave shit alone, can you?! Just fuck off, already!”

You looked at him with heartbroken eyes, biting your lower lip to suppress its quivering as tears began to fall down your face.

Fuck.

Katsuki inhaled sharply as his broken and battered heart shattered to pieces in his chest. Both of you were silent as you stared at one another, unsure of how to progress the conversation without breaking into a fit of tears.

“Fuck, I’m…I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, voice barely audible as he looked down at the ground between you. “Just leave me be, okay? You and Eijirou are better off without me, anyway.”

He pulled away from your grip and this time, you didn’t reach for him again. However, your voice still followed him as he walked further away from you.

“How could you say that? You mean the world to us, Kats! You’re our best friend! We need you. I need you. If this is about the other day, just forget about it. I’m fine. All is forgiven-”

“It’s not just about that.” He stopped in his tracks once more, back facing you.

“Then what is it about? Are you mad at me or Eijirou?”

Katsuki shook his head. Your confusion and desperation drew you closer to him. His feet remained glued to the floor.

“You’re not mad?”

“I-“ Katsuki stopped himself. “Just fuck off, Y/N. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Katsuki!”

"BECAUSE I- ugh!" he growled, "because it would be selfish of me to tell you! It’d only make things worse! I'm trying to be...fucking better than that."

You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued.

“It was selfish of me to stick around as long as I did. I should’ve just left the two of you be a long time ago. I thought I could-” He sighed. “Never mind. Point is, it’s gone too far. You even got hurt because of my stupid bullshit.”

“What has gone too far? Katsuki, stop talking like this. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s just sit down and talk this out.” There was a clear presence of fear in your tone as you reached out to grab his left hand that was clenched in a tight fist at his side.

He ripped himself away from you. “No. This conversation is over.”

The way he spoke, his voice quiet, lacking any of his usual attitude, made your stomach twist in knots. He sounded so sad, so weak, so defeated. It was completely unlike him, and it scared the shit out of you.

“I give you full permission to be selfish! Just fucking look at me! Tell me what’s wrong!” you begged.

At this point, you were seconds away from getting on your knees just to get his attention, or at the very least, pity. You couldn’t let him walk out of this room. You knew the chances of getting him to open up to you again after this were slim to none. This was it. You had to fight harder; show him you weren’t giving up on him, no matter how hard he pushed you away.

Katsuki was silent, but you could see the way his hands trembled at his sides; his head hung low, his chest heaving. You waited with bated breath behind him, praying he wouldn’t walk away.

Surprisingly, after what felt like a millennium, he turned to face you, his eyes still focused on the floor.

You were scared to make the wrong move, as if you were faced with a small, wounded animal that could scurry off if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

“Kats?” you whispered softly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

“Why do you say that? Katsuki, look at me.” You stepped forward and raised your hand, gently lifting his chin up so you could finally meet his eyes. What you saw broke your heart.

Red eyes glossed over with tears, lower lip trembling as he tried and failed to stifle the emotions that seemed to overtake him. Your eyes only filled with more tears of your own as you stared back at him sadly.

“I don’t want to see you happy without me,” he whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I want to be the reason you are happy. I want to give you everything you deserve and more.”

“Katsuki…You do make me happy. If anything, I am the least happy when you’re not around,” you said, fingers tracing down his wrist and giving his hand a small squeeze once he allowed you to grasp it. He only seemed to grow more upset at this as he looked down at your interlocked hands.

“But you don’t want me, you want him.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I wa-” You froze as realization hit you. “Wait…”

Katsuki made a tsk sound. "Looks like you finally got it. Took you long enough."

You blinked at him. "I- Kats, if you have something to tell me, you better say it now."

"I think you know. Why don't you tell me?"

He was too scared to say it and you knew it.

"Katsuki-"

"Tell me."

You sighed, suddenly growing nervous as you began to second-guess if what you were about to say was actually correct. Katsuki's hold on your hand grew tighter as he awaited your answer. If he wasn't so focused on what you were about to say, he'd be embarrassed about the growing dampness between your palms.

"I...do you....do you have...feelings....for me?"

Katsuki’s silence was all the confirmation you needed. You let out a breath of relief.

“Kats-”

“Do you?” he asked, before clarifying. “Have feelings for me? If the answer is ‘no’, say it now and we’ll never speak about it again.”

You stepped closer to him, slippers touching his as you looked at him with soft eyes.

"What if the answer is ‘yes’?" you whispered.

For a moment, you both exchanged glances between eyes and lips, your hearts racing as you awaited the other’s move.

Finally, Katsuki spoke.

"Do I still have permission to be selfish?"

You nodded, and before you knew it, his hands were on either side of your face, and his lips were crashing against yours.

He pushed you against the nearby wall, never breaking his lips from yours, as he kissed you hungrily, desperately, lovingly. You ran your fingernails up the nape of his neck, weaving your fingers through his messy blond locks and earning a groan from him as he pulled you closer by your hips and deepened the kiss even more.

By the time he came up for air, you were both panting heavily. His grip on your hips didn’t loosen and neither did yours around his neck as you stared at each other speechlessly.

After a moment, your lips formed into a smile.

“Dumbass,” you teased.

Katsuki’s soft smile quickly faded into a bewildered frown. “Hah?”

“Eijirou is like a brother to me. I want you, Katsuki. It’s always been you. I love you.”

Katsuki visibly stopped breathing for a brief moment. You nervously continued to speak.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, and Eijirou has been encouraging me to, but every time I tried, you stormed off, or were clearly out of it, so I was too nervous to bring it up.”

Katsuki growled. You looked at him, confused.

“What? Just say it,” you said.

“Fuck you!” he cursed.

You gasped. “Hey! Watch it, mister!”

“Fuck you for ruining my life by making me love you so goddamn much! And fuck you for not telling me sooner about your weird sibling dynamic and feelings for me and letting me suffer! Do you have any idea how painful it has been watching the two of you idiots and your stupid cutesy, touchy, flirty bullshit, every single day?!” he ranted, obviously frustrated, but not truly directed at you.

“First of all, we weren’t flirting. Also, I didn’t realize-”

“’Course you didn’t! I always thought you’d never return my feelings because it seemed obvious that you were obsessed with him.”

This time, he sounded sad. You cupped his face with your hands, gently running your thumbs over his soft cheeks.

“I have always been obsessed with you, Kats. Only you. It’s not that I didn’t want to be more forward and obvious with my affections for you, I was just never quite sure about your feelings for me and I didn’t want to cross any lines or make you uncomfortable,” you explained.

He let out a sigh, eyes closing as he relaxed into your touch.

“We should talk more about this tomorrow. Probably let Eijirou in on this too,” you said.

He nodded in agreement, soaking up the feeling of your touch; something he had dreamed of and desperately craved for so long. Finally, his dreams were coming true. He was melting between the palms of your hands, and he couldn't have been happier about it.

Now that he'd had a taste, he'd be damned if he were to ever let you go.

“You’re mine now. Got it?” he said, his hands slightly squeezing your hips as he looked into your eyes.

You smirked amusingly at him. “Woah there, don’t get too selfish now.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at you, his lips forming into an angry pout.

“Kidding! Don’t get your panties in a twist,” you said, giggling at the look on his face. You knew he hated it when you said that. You were just asking for trouble.

“That’s it! Get over here!” he said, reaching for your face as he tried to kiss you again.

If this was how he chose to punish you for teasing him, you weren’t complaining.

You laughed into the kiss before melting into him completely, allowing him to pull you even closer against him, his strong arms keeping you locked in place. The kiss quickly grew more tender as he savored every second of your soft lips on his.

You placed a hand on his chest at one point, signaling that you needed air. He grunted before reluctantly pulling away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking at the way you grew visibly flustered under his intensely loving gaze.

“It’s late. W-We should get to bed."

He hummed in response. “Fine.”

Taking your hand, he walked you over to the elevator across the room, both of you still silently processing all that had just happened until you finally reached the large metal doorway.

You stepped inside the elevator, bidding him goodnight.

“Night,” he said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

His feet came to a halt when he felt a sudden, familiar urge take over him, and this time, he didn’t fight it. Before he knew it, he had his arm between the metal doors, forcing them to reopen.

“Kats-”

He interrupted you by crashing his lips against yours once more, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you with everything he had. Every skipped beat of his heart, every pang in his stomach, every moment of longing, every loving thought he’d ever had of you flashed through his mind. For once, he wasn’t concerned about ruining anything, of hurting anyone, of losing you. All he cared about was satisfying the insufferable itch of longing and desire he’d carried for you all this time.

Finally, the noose was gone, the bad feelings dissipating while the others became one with his being. He could breathe again.

When he pulled away, he was smiling. He was happy.

And you were too. Happy because of him. Happy with him.

“You should be selfish more often,” you said, still trying to catch your breath.

Katsuki stopped the doors from closing in on him, his eyes still locked on you as he let out a chuckle.

“That’s a first. Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

He backed out of the elevator, finally allowing the doors to close. You stared at him as heat rushed to your face, capturing a glimpse of his growing smirk until he was no longer in sight.

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.

And oh, did you love every bit of him.

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