#source: robotic;notes

[narratives-mythos-multiverses]

Welcome to my multifandom side blog!

list of primary media that I’ll post about:

- Anime/manga

- Mythology and Folklore

- Pantheon AMC

- Shaperaverse

I’ll also comment and give my two cents on general reviews of literature and such from time to time :)

main blog @corvikari

[cobra-salt]

sshh, don't worry, despite any salty reblogs or musings, I do love these characters and world too. I've wanted to engage with people again, just kind of taking a break until it's safe to do so. Was feeling a bit too viscerally shook from what happened last month world-wise and then what made me pull away, so I want to regroup and also know where I can safely just say "bad person bad" "good things good" and it not be some fighting word.

[cressidagrey]

The Brush Off

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times people flirt with Felicity and 1 time Oscar sees it happen. 

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂 Also, check out my new divider!

School Library, Haileybury

Felicity was tucked into her usual corner of the school library — second floor, far left, just behind the dusty shelf of outdated atlases no one ever touched. It was quiet there. Untouchable. Sacred.

Her legs were curled under her in a frankly illegal way that made the librarian twitch every time she passed by. 

But Felicity didn’t care. She had more important things to worry about. Like finishing her own chemistry coursework, writing the conclusion to her robotics team report, and, most importantly, rescuing Oscar’s history grade from what could only be described as a stylistic disaster.

Her copy of The Selfish Gene sat open next to a packet of sticky notes and five highlighters arranged in rainbow order. Oscar’s essay draft was sprawled beside it like a corpse in need of resuscitation.

 She was six pages in.

 She had already marked five run-on sentences, circled three historical inaccuracies, and scrawled “comma splice?” in angry red ink on the header. Next to that, she’d added, in smaller print: “This is a run-on sentence and also a war crime.”(This was three lines after “I am not sure if child labour can be considered a “perk” of the industrial revolution, Oz.”)

She was muttering to herself about how Oscar consistently forgot the difference between a primary and secondary source when a shadow fell across the table.

“Hey,” a voice said. “You always sit here?”

Felicity glanced up — just barely — and immediately clocked the newcomer.

Mateo.

The Spanish exchange student.

Hair swoop. Too much cologne.

He had the vibe of someone who thought reading The Secret History made him profound. Like the kind of guy who bought Moleskines but didn’t write in them. Like a walking Instagram profile captioned “Fluent in Nietzsche.”

She didn’t answer immediately. Just scribbled a note in Oscar’s margin (“use a stronger thesis here or face the wrath of every historian who’s ever lived”).

“On Wednesdays, yes,” she replied eventually, eyes still on the page.

Mateo didn’t take the hint.

He leaned in a little too close. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and already regretted not bringing headphones.

“What are you working on?”

She lifted Oscar’s paper slightly, as if it were obvious. “This.”

He squinted. “You’re helping a friend?”

“This is my boyfriend’s essay.”

Mateo’s face lit up, but not with recognition — with opportunity. “Wow. You’re that good a friend?”

Felicity blinked. “I’m that good a girlfriend.”

He paused. Smiled like she’d just told a cute joke at a party. “Sure. But, like, if you ever wanted to… hang out? Or study together? I’ve been struggling with philosophy.”

She stared at him. “You’re struggling with philosophy?”

He nodded eagerly. “It’s so dense, you know?”

“You mean… reading?”

He chuckled. “I just thought it might be easier with someone like you. Someone sharp. Smart.”

She just stared at him. 

Still, he didn’t leave. “I’m just saying, if you ever get bored of helping your boyfriend… I wouldn’t mind a little attention.”

That’s what made her pause.

Because for a moment, Felicity genuinely didn’t understand what he meant.

Attention? What kind? Did he want her to edit his essay, too? Help him structure his arguments?

Was this a mentorship request? A tutoring thing? Was he trying to hire her?

Because from where she was sitting — wearing one of Oscar’s sweatshirts over her school uniform with her hair up in a pencil-stabbed bun, ink smudged on her fingers… There was no way this boy was flirting with her.

She finally looked up, expression flat. “I’ve been with my boyfriend for two years. I rewrite his footnotes. I know the number of his racing sim’s USB ports by memory. You think I have time for recreational idiocy?”

Mateo blinked. He stammered something that might’ve been “Sorry” or “Your loss” or possibly just the start of a philosophy quote he didn’t finish.

Then he turned and slunk away, disappearing into the nonfiction aisle like a man who needed to Google what a footnote was.

Felicity exhaled slowly, turned back to Oscar’s essay, and drew a tiny skull next to a sentence about Napoleon.

Ten minutes later, Oscar appeared — bottle of water in one hand, hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, curls slightly mussed.

“Hey,” he said, flopping into the seat beside her and nudging her ankle under the table.

Felicity didn’t even blink. She just slid his paper across the table.

“Yours,” she said, tone dry. “Try not to get seduced by misused commas.”

Oscar grinned, leaned over, and kissed her temple.

***

Engineering Library, Imperial College London

The engineering library at Imperial had a very specific kind of silence — dense, utilitarian, and just slightly stressed. 

It didn’t have the hushed reverence of a humanities space or the open nervous energy of undergrads cramming in a group. No. This room buzzed with tension.

It smelled like soldering fumes, pencil shavings, leftover caffeine, and the faintest echo of ambition-turned-despair.

Most students had packed up hours ago, but Felicity remained in her fortress of design textbooks, open CAD diagrams, three kinds of scrap paper, and a crumpled granola bar wrapper that she’d been meaning to throw away for at least forty-five minutes. Her water bottle was dangerously low, her laptop fan sounded like it was preparing for lift-off, and her cursor had been blinking in the same spot on her thermal stress simulation for the last twenty-seven minutes.

She wasn’t stuck. She was just… tired.

Tired in the bone-deep way only a mechanical engineering student in her second trimester could be.

She shifted slightly, legs curled beneath her, one hand resting absently on the curve of her bump. Not because it hurt — not tonight — but because Beatrice had just kicked her in the ribs again, like she was trying to crawl out through Felicity’s diaphragm.

Her phone buzzed next to her laptop:

Oscar: Don’t forget dinner. Please. You always forget when your sim models hate you. 

She smiled faintly but didn’t reply. Not yet. She still had heat sink values to triple-check.

That was when it happened.

A voice—too close, too casual—sliced through the stillness.

“Hey.”

Felicity looked up, blinking.

A guy was standing across the table. Probably mid-twenties. Tall, in that I stretch for photos, way. Crisp haircut. Slim jeans. Water bottle with a “No Bad Vibes” sticker on it — ironic, because he was currently radiating intrusive energy like a malfunctioning microwave.

He didn’t wait for permission. Just slid into the chair opposite hers like this was a first date she didn’t know they were having.

“I saw you in Thermo this morning,” he said. “That fluid mechanics question you asked? Insanely clever. I was going to say something after class, but you ducked out too fast.”

Felicity blinked at him. “I had a tutorial.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “Should’ve guessed. You seem like you’ve got everything scheduled down to the second.”

“I also needed chips,” she added, because both things were true.

He laughed like she’d made a joke. “You seem intense. I like that. Women in engineering? You don’t see that every day. Rare combination of intimidating and hot.”

She stared at him.

The words rolled around her brain like loose screws.

What… did he want?

Was this a compliment? An insult? An offer?

She was six months pregnant, her knees hurt, her thesis was trying to kill her, and she was wearing Oscar’s hoodie with a faint grease stain across the front.

What exactly was the goal here?

“I mean—don’t get me wrong,” he rushed on, clearly sensing the silence and trying to recover. “You’ve just got that… serious vibe. Like the kind of girl who rewires her own dishwasher.”

“I did,” she said flatly. “Last week.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

“And the kettle. And Oscar’s sim pedal when it failed under full brake.”

There was a beat.

“…Who’s Oscar?” he asked, smirking now. “Your roommate?”

Felicity paused.

And for a moment—just a moment—she considered laughing.

Then she closed her laptop slowly. Deliberately.

“Oscar’s my husband.”

The guy blinked.

Stood up slowly. Her hoodie shifted, and with it, the full curve of her pregnancy became unmistakably obvious. Not theoretical. Not ambiguous. Imminent.

The guy’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

She adjusted the hem of her sweater, not breaking eye contact, slung her bag over one shoulder, and smiled — cold, clean, efficient.

“If you’re gonna flirt with a mechanical engineer,” she said, “maybe do a better job at observational diagnostics.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked like he wanted to apologise and also vanish into the carpet tiles.

Felicity didn’t wait for a response.

***

Trinity College, Oxford

By the time Felicity Piastri was twenty-one, she had two things down to a science:

How to balance a toddler on her hip while rewriting entire sections of a doctoral thesis.

The exact number of times she could ignore the same man before it became a full-blown academic experiment.

Her Oxford doctoral project - Reinforcement Through Flexibility: Dynamic Adaptation in Composite-Structured Performance Environments. - had technically been finished for weeks. The simulations were done, the modelling locked in, her conclusions tight and triple-sourced. Now she was just revising. Editing. Wrangling footnotes into submission while Bee tried to paste glitter stickers into the margins of her printed draft.

She did almost everything from home.

The only reason she even stepped foot into Oxford was for fortnightly supervision meetings with Dr. Green, who was brilliant, terrifying, and the only person Felicity would willingly leave the house (and her toddler) for.

Which was, unfortunately, where Nathan lived.

Nathan — Dr. Green’s personal assistant — had been a PPE student once upon a time, which explained a lot. Somehow, he’d wheedled his way into a departmental admin role despite not knowing the difference between a torque curve and a coffee stain. His talents included:

Misfiling room bookings.

Brewing tea that tasted like despair.

Flirting with Felicity like it was something he was being graded on.

The first time he tried it, she’d thought it was just bad small talk. She gave him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed the type to flirt accidentally, the kind of man who said “babe” to baristas and thought it made him charming.

The second time, she was slightly annoyed.

By the fifth, she had moved on to anthropological interest. 

How did he not see the wedding ring? The child’s drawings poking out of her folder? The exhaustion of someone whose idea of a wild Friday night was installing firmware updates for fun?

Today, she arrived two minutes early for her meeting. She’d barely stepped into the department lobby when he spotted her.

“Dr. Green is running a bit late,” Nathan announced, standing up from behind the reception desk like he was emerging for a curtain call. “But I can keep you company if you like.”

Felicity barely paused. “She’s not. She still has 2 minutes till our appointment time.”

He grinned like she’d just flirted back. “You know, I was thinking the other day… you never hang around after your meetings. You always rush off.”

“Yeah,” she said, expression unreadable. “Because I have a toddler. And a dissertation. And a husband. In that order.”

Nathan winced theatrically. “Oof. Brutal.”

She offered him a smile that wasn’t one. “Sorry. Was that too reality-based?”

Still, he pressed on, leaning against the desk like he thought he was on the cover of GQ.

“Still,” he said, “it’d be nice to talk about something other than drivetrain mapping sometime. Maybe grab a drink?”

Felicity blinked. Twice.

It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested it. But somehow, today, it caught her even more off guard.

“You’re asking me,” she said slowly, “a married mother of one, who is actively finishing a thesis and hasn’t eaten a full sit-down meal in two days, to go get drinks with you?”

He laughed, like she was being ridiculous.

“I didn’t think you’d take it that seriously. We could just talk—”

“About what?” she asked, genuinely baffled. “What, precisely, do you think I have in common with a man who once told me Elon Musk was just misunderstood?”

Nathan blinked.

Felicity continued. “Do you want help with your CV? Is this about office gossip? Are you confused and trying to network with me through reverse psychology?”

“I just meant—”

“I’m not trying to be rude,” she said, eyes narrowing in thought. “I genuinely don’t understand what outcome you’re envisioning here. Do you think I’m going to cheat on my husband with the guy who can’t pronounce ‘aerodynamics’ without swallowing the word halfway through?”

He flushed slightly. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“I’m not. I’m being efficient.”

The door to the inner office opened before he could reply. Dr. Green appeared, breathless and balancing two takeaway coffees in one hand and a folder in the other.

“Felicity, I’m so sorry. The grant committee meeting ran over. Here—” She handed over one of the cups. “Decaf oat, right? And I pulled the new journal submissions for you. There are a few I thought might intersect with your secondary chapter on hybrid systems.”

Felicity smiled as she took the coffee. “Thanks. I already reviewed the three most relevant ones and emailed you a summary chart with citations.”

Dr. Green blinked. “Of course you did.”

Nathan blinked, too, but for entirely different reasons. 

Felicity turned back to him just before following her professor inside.

“Oh, and Nathan?”

“…Yes?” he said, still — somehow — hopeful.

She raised her left hand and tapped the wedding band with one finger. “This wasn’t a joke.”

And then she shut the office door behind her like it was a verdict.

The Door Handle Aisle of Homebase, Woking

Oscar was off racing.

Felicity was elbow-deep in a bathroom renovation.

Not the Pinterest kind.

Not the “new towels and scented eucalyptus and a little bamboo ladder for the aesthetic” kind.

No, this was the “rip out the vanity with a crowbar and discover the wall behind it had been sealed with hope and duct tape” kind.

The kind of renovation that required full battle gear: dust mask, gloves, safety goggles, and the controlled fury of a woman who had read the plumbing manual twice and did not need a man explaining pipe fittings to her.

And because she was who she was — stubborn, competent, and wildly intelligent— Felicity hadn’t hired anyone.

She could do it herself.

And she would.

Which meant… many, many trips to the hardware store.

The staff had started to recognise her by mid-April. A couple of them even learned to duck when she walked in, in case she asked for a specific size of tap washer they didn’t carry. But one guy — the guy from the sealant aisle—hadn’t learned that lesson.

Late twenties, overly friendly, perpetually wearing a toolbelt he definitely didn’t need, like he thought it made him look rugged instead of unconvincing. He hovered near the caulk and grout displays like they were a dating pool.

The first time, it was casual.

“You here again?” he’d asked, smiling like he was in a rom-com. “You must really like DIY.”

Felicity didn’t look up from the tile grout chart. “I like doing things properly.”

The second time, it was more confident.

“Doing a kitchen too?” he asked, spotting the tile adhesive in her basket. “You ever need help—”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” she said, already walking toward checkout before he could finish.

By the sixth visit, he had apparently decided they were bonding.

She was in the handles aisle, comparing brass finishes, when she heard him again — that telltale sneaker-squeak on linoleum, the voice turned up a little too loud, too performative.

“Wow,” he said, appearing at the end of the aisle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you keep coming in just to see me.”

Felicity didn’t look up. She held one cabinet pull in each hand and considered which one better matched the art deco lines of the mirror she’d thrifted.

“I assure you,” she said, tone even, “my interest in you begins and ends with your stock of brass hinges.”

He laughed, undeterred. “Come on. You’re always here. I figured, maybe you’re one of those cool builder girls. You don’t wear a ring or anything, so…”

That’s what finally made her pause.

Not the tone. Not the implication. But the logic.

She looked at him.

“You think I keep coming in here because… what? I’m lonely?” she asked, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “I’m literally holding blueprints and a door handle.”

He shrugged. “You just seem like the kind of girl who could use a little—” (God help him) “—company.”

Felicity blinked. She wiped a smudge of pencil from her chin, set the handles back down, and reached into her tote bag without breaking eye contact.

She pulled out her phone.

“I’m going to walk you through something,” she said calmly, unlocking the screen. “Because clearly, you didn’t do any preliminary research before launching this… ill-conceived outreach attempt.”

She turned the lock screen toward him.

A photo.

Felicity, curled up on a sofa in a hoodie. Oscar was beside her, kissing the top of her head. Bee sprawled between them in footie pyjamas, holding a spoon upside down like a trophy. The lighting was soft. Domestic. Unmistakably intimate.

“This,” Felicity said, “is my husband. He is currently in Azerbaijan, driving a car at three hundred miles an hour. That’s our daughter. She is two. I do renovations during naptime.”

The man paled. “Oh. I—uh. I didn’t know—”

“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t ask.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something else — possibly to dig the hole deeper.

But Felicity wasn’t done.

“I come in here to buy tile primer. I don’t come in here for unsolicited analysis of my marital status from men who think a toolbelt is a personality trait.”

Her voice never rose. It didn’t have to.

It was calm. Steady.

The voice of someone who had personally rewired her fuse box and once installed a dishwasher while on the phone and dealing with a crying toddler.

She smiled politely. Dangerously.

Like a woman who kept zip ties in her car and knew how to use them.

“I’ll take these, thanks,” she said, lifting the cabinet handles. “Don’t need help carrying them. But if you’ve got any more of that tile primer from last week in stock, that would be helpful.”

He mumbled something about checking the back and fled like a man pursued by the consequences of his own choices.

Felicity watched him go, then picked up the nicer brass finish.

She didn’t even roll her eyes. She was too tired. 

Felicity just wanted her tile primer and to go home.

***

Rooftop Bar, Melbourne

Felicity didn’t go out much.

Not because she couldn’t — Oscar insisted she take breaks, even booked her massages that she always forgot to attend — but because she liked her life.

She liked being home with Bee. She liked sanding doorframes and painting walls and mapping out the next renovation with a pencil stuck in her messy bun. She liked curling up on the sofa with her laptop, trading stock options at 1 AM. She liked Oscar reading over her shoulder, pointing out line graphs he didn’t understand but wanted to. She liked the steady rhythm of their days. Naptimes and quiet dinners and Bee’s loud commentary on the existence of pigeons.

But they were in Melbourne over the Winter break, and Nicole had insisted.

“You’re getting out of the house,” she’d said, practically pushing Felicity toward the wardrobe. “You’ve been in Australia for five days, and the only places you’ve seen are the beach and Bunnings.”

And so here they were — rooftop bar in Melbourne, warm summer air, glass of chilled white wine in Nicole’s hand and a lemon-lime mocktail in Felicity’s.

 Their dresses fluttered in the breeze; Her hair was up. Her arms were bare. She looked, Nicole thought proudly, like the kind of woman men write songs about.

Which was, unfortunately, the problem.

Because a man at the bar had noticed, too.

He made his way over with the swagger of someone who once played rugby in uni and still referred to it as “his prime.” White linen shirt. Too many rings. Hair with more product than structure. And that thing men did when they leaned on a table like they were presenting a TED Talk on their charm.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said smoothly, eyes only on Felicity.

Nicole didn’t blink. “You are.”

Felicity raised her eyebrows, mildly surprised, but didn’t say anything. She just sipped her drink and let the lime catch on her tongue.

The man chuckled — the low, confident kind that assumed he was being flirted back with.

“I just thought I’d say—you’ve got a great smile,” he continued. Still to Felicity. Still convinced. “You local?”

“No,” she said. “Just visiting.”

He nodded toward Nicole. “With your sister?”

Nicole’s mouth twitched.

Felicity opened her mouth to clarify, but Nicole got there first.

“I’m her mother-in-law,” she said, swirling her wine.

That gave him a moment’s pause. But not enough.

“Well, she’s clearly not married—” he gestured vaguely to Felicity’s left hand, bare in the way most hands are after a morning at the beach with a toddler and too much sunscreen.

Felicity smiled. Slowly. Like a summer storm deciding whether to ruin your picnic or level your whole house.

“I took my rings off before swimming this morning,” she said, amused. “Didn’t want to lose them in the ocean.”

He still didn’t give up. “No offence, but… a girl like you? You don’t need to be tied down so young.”

Felicity furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, you could have fun. Live a little.”

“I’m married,” she said again, a little slower. “I live a lot.”

“You know what I mean,” he said, grinning.

 She genuinely didn’t understand.

What did he mean by that?

Was she supposed to say thank you? Defend her marriage? 

Debate the merits of early commitment like she was on a panel?

“No,” Felicity replied honestly, “I actually don’t. What exactly do you think is going to happen? I abandon my family because you complimented my teeth?”

She had a three-year-old who could build better arguments about bedtime.

Before Felicity could figure out what to say, Nicole gently set her wine glass down.

“She’s not tied down, darling,” she said, tone perfectly pleasant. “She’s adored.”

She reached into her purse like she was pulling a weapon.

“Would you like to see a photo of her husband holding their daughter on the beach this morning?” she asked. “Or maybe the one where he flew eight hours just to make it to her thesis defence?”

The man’s face did a visible three-second software update.

“No, that’s okay,” he said, already backing up a step.

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “You sure? My son is very photogenic. His job likes to post him shirtless sometimes. It’s a whole thing.”

Felicity had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“Right. Uh—have a nice night,” the man muttered, vanishing like a bug under bright light.

+1 — The One Time Oscar Noticed

The garage was buzzing with that high-voltage energy unique to a U.S. race weekend — louder music, brighter cameras, fans pressed against every fence line like they were at a concert instead of a motorsport event. McLaren’s VIP list was stacked with influencers, sponsors, and the usual parade of celebrities trying to look like they knew what a downforce map was.

Oscar didn’t care about any of them.

He cared about the girls in the denim jackets with PIASTRI stitched across the back in big, white glittery letters. Their arts and crafts project for Silverstone.

Felicity was standing near the back of the garage, Bee balanced on her hip, and a pair of toddler-sized headphones slipped over her curls. The two of them had matching jackets, homemade and loud and perfect. Bee’s even had a sparkly iron-on chicken. Felicity’s had glitter stars. Oscar had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He was mid-chat with one of the engineers when he glanced over again.

And froze.

Because some guy—tall, tanned, fake-smiling, and clearly trying to look famous—was leaning way too close to Felicity. His teeth were too white. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He held a drink, and worse, he had sunglasses on inside. Oscar didn’t even know where he’d come from — but there he was, leaning against the garage railing like it was a club bar and Felicity was the drink special.

He was saying something. Laughing too loud.

Felicity frowned politely. She shifted a sleeping Bee on her hip and took a half-step back.

The man followed.

“I’m just saying,” he drawled, gesturing to her jacket, “if you’re gonna wear another man’s name on your back, he better be worth it.”

Felicity blinked. “He’s my husband.”

That didn’t deter him.

“Bet he doesn’t even know how good he’s got it,” the man said, still smiling, his gaze dropping briefly to her legs. “You ever get tired of being someone’s plus-one, let me know.”

Bee stirred a little, nose twitching, and Felicity rubbed her back automatically, like muscle memory. Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

The guy tilted his head. “C’mon. You’re clearly the type who plays the sweet wife in public. But a woman like you?” He dropped his voice. “You need real attention.”

Oscar took a step forward, but someone else moved faster.

“Alright,” said a voice, sharp and Australian and impossible to ignore. “Let’s try that again — from six feet away.”

The man turned, surprised, and saw Mark Webber.

Mark didn’t need to raise his voice. His presence alone was enough to freeze a room.

He gave the man a smile that could cut glass. “You’ve got five seconds to back up before I make this very awkward for everyone.”

“Sorry, mate—”

“No, see, that’s the problem,” Mark said, stepping forward slightly. “You’re not her mate. You’re a stranger talking to a woman who’s clearly married, clearly holding a child, and clearly not interested. So unless you’re trying to get blacklisted from every paddock hospitality list from now until eternity, I’d walk away.”

The guy opened his mouth. Closed it. Then turned and slinked off like a coward in designer shoes.

Oscar finally got to them, face tight, fury in every step.

Mark nodded. “Handled.”

Oscar exhaled slowly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Mark looked at Felicity. “You alright?”

Felicity still looked baffled. “What was that?”

Oscar looked her over, checking Bee, checking her, like reassurance was the only way to keep his hands from shaking. “That guy was harassing you.”

“What? No. Was he?” She squinted after him. “He was just being weird.”

Oscar stared at her. “He was flirting. Badly.”

“He was being rude,” Felicity said. “And creepy. But flirting? Why would anyone flirt with someone holding a sleeping toddler and wearing a juice-stained T-shirt? Why does this keep happening?!”

Mark rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re wearing a custom denim jacket with your husband’s name on it in glitter. Holding your kid. And you still have men sniffing around. That’s not on you — that’s on them being idiots.”

Oscar exhaled hard. 

Felicity, still gently rocking Bee, just sighed. “Maybe I should just get a flashing neon sign.”

Oscar stepped closer and kissed her temple. “You okay?”

She looked at him, tired but unbothered. “Yeah. Are you?”

“No,” he muttered. “But I will be once I get you both inside.”

***

They were tucked away in the quiet corner of the drivers' room now, post-session, Bee still fast asleep on the little sofa wrapped in one of Oscar’s hoodies. The chaos of the paddock had faded into muffled noise. 

Oscar was sitting across from Felicity, one leg bouncing.

He was still rattled.

“What do you mean they keep flirting with you?” he asked, brows drawn together as he looked at her.

Felicity blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said it like it happens regularly,” he said, voice low and sharp with something he was trying to keep cool. “Like that wasn’t the first time.”

She paused. Shrugged. “I mean… it does? A little?”

Oscar stared at her. “Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since Haileybury, probably? Or Oxford. And, like… in the hardware store.”

Oscar made a noise that might have been a groan or a growl.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he asked.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” she said simply, brushing a hand over Bee’s curls. “They’re not you. So they don’t have a chance.”

He stilled.

That one sentence — calm, sure, like it was the most obvious fact in the world — hit him in the chest like a perfect downshift.

She tilted her head, studying him. “You really didn’t know?”

“I knew people looked,” he admitted. 

Of course, they looked. He was aware of how Felicity looked:  Sunglasses pushed to the top of her head. Hair windswept from the open pit lane. She had juice on her shirt, no makeup, and still — still — she looked like something out of a dream. Breakable and brilliant. All porcelain and fire.

Beautiful. 

“I’m not blind. But I didn’t realise they were… like that.”

“I don’t even get why they are doing it,” Felicity snorted. “I look like someone who hasn’t slept properly since Bee was born. I have crusted juice on my shirt. I literally threw Goldfish crackers at our daughter to buy myself ten minutes.”

Oscar leaned back, exasperated. “And you still look better than anyone else here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just biased.”

“I’m jealous,” he corrected, then ran a hand through his hair. “God, I hate it. That guy didn’t even flinch when you said you were married.”

“He probably thought I was joking,” she said mildly. “People don’t really expect twenty-somethings to be married with kids.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “They should. You wear my name on your back.”

She shrugged. “They don’t matter. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Oscar was across the space in a second.

He kissed her — slow, deep, a little desperate — hand sliding around her waist, pulling her in close. His other hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek like he had to remind himself she was real.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, breath shallow.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice low. “I know I don’t own you, but God, I feel it sometimes. Like you’ve always been mine.”

“I have. Since we were 15,” she whispered. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even before you had a Wikipedia page.”

Oscar kissed her. Not rushed, not messy — but firm. Grounded. A kiss that said mine. A kiss that would’ve been indecent if she weren’t already wearing his name and carrying his child and his whole damn heart.

When he finally pulled back, she was breathless.

And across the room, Bee stirred, let out a sleepy sigh, and snuggled deeper into Oscar’s hoodie.

Felicity leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, and muttered, “You’re ridiculous when you’re jealous.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed. “Yes.”

[4mrplumi]

01. spiderwocky ── 'spidey' bot

platonic | spiderverse x spiderman!reader x batfamily | ms. list

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdisclaimers on masterlist!

index. prologue , chapter one , chapter two , chapter three ... to be continued. based on this

“there are more advisable ways to source materials, (name),” a robotic voice ushers in your ear, “i could run a route for the nearest hardware store, safe enough for you to reach”.

you wave her out of your head, murmuring around your breath as you examine the multimeter in your hand. “‘s alright, spidey… they won’t mind me borrowing.”

you’re cooped up behind a large cargo box in the batcave, looking for throwaway tools to use, hoping to be able to fix the sp//dr suit before returning to queens. you’ve known bruce’s tech since you first came around, piecing out the fact he was batman soon after. batman and his batplane, his batmobile, his batgrapple… hell, maybe even a batGPT? he won’t notice if you snatch a little something.

“they’re out, can’t be too bothered to roam out in gotham when there’s perfectly available gizmos here, can i?” you chew on a fruit candy you nicked from the kitchen earlier, it might be damian’s, you’re not sure, “won’t be back till… eleven, tops?”

sp//dr crawls down your arm, her metallic legs causing a pin-prickly sensation, and making you shiver. “rather still, (name), i do not like advocating for such behaviour. what would your father think of you stealing?”

you stiffen for a second, pressing your lips into a thin line. “yeah, what would he?” you manage to scoff, shutting the lid of the box you were scouring through. “run a scan on the tech in here, would you? maybe there’s a micro-comm i can slip out-”

a shooting sensation of anxiety fills you, and you’re suddenly skittering to the nearest wall, sp//dr following close in suit. the water-curtain in the batcave parts to make way for a jet, the engines whirring so, so quietly, you think you’re hallucinating it. 

the hatch starts to open, and sp//dr whispers at you to climb up the wall, hide in the dark before you can run off. batman and the littlest robin hop out, their conversation to far away to eavesdrop on… for a regular person.

you narrow your eyes at them. super-hearing isn’t something you’ve experimented with, but you know it’s there, recalling the way your ears nearly exploded the first time your spidey-sense kicked in. maybe if you really concentrate? you squint at them, and the quiet becomes clear.

“perhaps it’s an installment… such work has become very popular as of late.” the little robin says, crossing his arms as batman types away on the long, long keyboard at his computer. “i doubt it,” he replies, his voice always sounds like gravel being rubbed against cement when he puts that cowl on, you think, “witnesses say it ‘showed up out of nowhere’, and the footage glitches out before the structure came in.” the screen in front of them switches to a recording, in black and white, crunchy even with the computer’s high data compatibility. 

you don’t stick around, scampering up the wall to the shaft you came in through, quiet as a bug as you stalk out from behind the grandfather clock that decorates the opening. the batman can figure out weird happenings in his city, you just need to be capable enough to help yours.

spider crawls onto your wrist, her metal parts rearranging themselves to turn into a bracelet. her voice hums out from a little blue dot on it, forever monotone. “please now, (name), return to your room without detection, fixing the suit can wait for tomorrow.”

you can’t help but smile a little at her instruction, slipping your new tools into the pockets of your jacket. “maybe it can,” you mutter back, under your breath, swiftly making distance from bruce’s office after you leave it, “but it’s not going to, is it?”

(name), duke notes glancing at the kid, who seems thoroughly submerged in schoolwork at the dining table, is more quiet that he’s accustomed to.

now- that’s not to say he’s used to (name) at all, having barely spoken to them last year, and missing them the year before that when they went off on some trip over the summer.

but it had been impossible to ignore the atmosphere of supreme awkwardness that followed the kid like a ghost, when they shifted on their heels, wanting to ask dick if they could hang out, or tim if he could look at some “cool question” they got as homework. now, that awkwardness had just been replaced with something… quiet. something still, and simpler. it was a drastic change, making him purse his lips into a thin line each time he saw them run back to their room the second everyone got back home from patrol. 

he wants to ask if anything's wrong, but… how? what would he even say? duke isn’t close to (name) at all, and it’s not like anyone else is either. heck, he’s barely even seen the kid. the house is decorated with pictures, relics from everyone (but... you) that bruce keeps up. in comparison, you drop in to the manor for a few months, haunting the place, before leaving just as quickly as you came. he didn’t even time to acknowledge you existed the first time he met you, too tired from patrol to be able to entertain any of your questions. wouldn’t it be weird to just… bluntly ask what in the world’s wrong with them, when he doesn’t know what’s supposed to be right?

duke looks away sheepishly when (name) glances back, seemingly aware of his staring. he’ll ask, he will. he just needs to figure out how… and when. when tim creeps into the living room, still in his suit, (name) crawls away up the stairs without acknowledging him, quiet as a bug. before… everyone just chose to excuse the noise (name) made. 

tim turns his head to where duke’s looking, the space now empty, and shrugs in dismissal. (name)’s not sitting there anymore.

you haven’t blinked in ten minutes, the thought drifting idly at the back of your head. you’re camped out in the dingy stairwell of some building, sp//dr’s little inbuilt projector painting a slideshow on the wall in front of you. her voice buzzes out from microscopic speakers.

“everything i could compile in the given time,” she speaks, “the information was protected quite fiercely… barely existed at all.” 

“so- what? like this doesn’t have a lot of notes or something?” you ask, scribbling down the words you see onto sticky notes, pasting them on the pages in your journal. sp//dr pings in acknowledgement on your wrist, switching to the next slide.

the batwing suit, one of the most high tech wearables you’ve ever had the opportunity to look at. call it inspiration, you’d murmured to sp//dr when she inquired about why you wanted the files on it, it’d be both a development in your knowledge and good for the sp//dr suit.

really, it was. the interior skin had similar properties to the hypothesized “nanotechnology” a guy at school had talked about, and the extra features would have genuinely enamored any mecha-geek.

your notes were simple. the “system” acted similar to sp//dr, and she already had a compartment in your suit, so it wouldn’t be too important. gyroscopic assist… that’d be interesting. most of your time’s spent swinging around, and the motion control on your suit is pretty good already, consider it an upgrade?

what’s most interesting about the suit is the toxikinesis, and energy negation. now, so to speak, you’re aware of the batman’s cautions against metas. apart from the signal, you’re not too well aware of anyone with any kind of powers in gotham (apart from yourself right now).

but hell, releasing poison mist? nullifying energy? that’s got to be cheating! even with all the other things the illustrious spiderman can do, it’s too cool of a thing to let up. before having to move into the manor with bruce wayne and his entourage of coloured birds, you’d lived with your father’s files taking up all the room on his desk, leaving only the stuffed drawers for the pictures you made for him. 

he’d been illustrious in his own right, taking out the little time he had to spend time with you. but not really be with you. still, in his interest, you took to technology too, tinkering with little robot kits your father’s friends gifted you. and it stuck. even after you were pulled out of school one day, the teacher’s expression looking unfathomably sad. the remorseful hunch of the officer’s back who’d eased you into telling you about your father’s accident was the only thing you looked at, your little kiddish throat feeling dry. 

it had stuck with you after you were put into bruce wayne’s house, as per your late mother’s wishes. it stuck with you after you were sent away from the manor to boarding school for most of the year. it stuck with you even after the sharp pinch of the spider that bit you a few months ago, changing the trajectory of your life in a way you couldn’t complain about.

in the midst of your “studies”, you hear a doom slam, and shouting ensue. in regular gotham fashion, it’s vulgar, filthy and loud. spiderman responds to conflict with fight. (name) prefers flight. you shove everything into your bag, scuttling down the steps as the shouting gets louder, something about hogging the elevator before it starts making your head feel hot and dizzy from anxiety.

the suit’s going to need work. the batwing suit’s fairly slimmer than your bulky mecha, making the components proportionate would take time.

maybe you could ask… no, he’d be too busy anyway. your tongue feels like lead when you lie to sp//dr. she asks; “what are you thinking about?”, you say, “a lot of things.”. you're not thinking of anything at all.

in your silence, sp//dr’s monotonous company is like a soothing balm. so soothing in fact, you don't see a stray sticky-note glitch in red and blue, and then; disappear entirely.

₊˚⊹ a/n : was this bit kind of a nothingburger... maybe. next entry sometime soon,, we'll get to see the society there. thanks for reading!!

taglist @shycreatorreview @facelessgetolover @mileskisser @1abi @kenyummy @selvyyr @systemix @momentomoribitch @redsakura101 @k-anaru @stupouid @glowinthedarkjellyfish @blankface333 @sassycupcakecomputer @miyseilish @xzmickeyzx

[hannyoontify]

seventeen '96 line as things that have made my heart flutter

warnings | smidge of jealousy during hoshi's

notes | source? erm possibly my own... experiences from the past..... ;;; not proofread

p.s. i recommend reading these as situationships/pre-relationships

95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

jun - a kiss on the cheek while taking pictures in a photo booth

“ooh this frame looks cute! do you wanna do this one?”

jun smiled at your energy. “whatever you want, bubs. i’m following your lead.”

he stood back as he watched you take the lead, clicking through the different settings of the photobooth. when you finished, you rushed over to his side with an excited smile. “okay, quick! there’s a timer and we have to finish within that time!”

the big, red number began to count down and the two of you stood against the wall. outstretching two fingers, you made posed for the camera and jun followed your example. the machine made a loud click sound as it took the first photo.

“again! okay, what pose should we do next? ooo! jun, grab the kitty hairbands!”

the next few snapshots were taken of you and jun posing with the kitty hairbands provided by the store. jun made a loud meow for one, making you burst into laughter, which the camera caught perfectly in time. jun, with his handsome face scrunched up mid-meow and you, your mouth wide open and your eyes closed as you laughed.

“eww! i hate that photo, we’re not choosing that one.” you said mid-giggle. 

“why? it’s cute. i think it explains our dynamic perfectly,” jun grabbed you by the shoulder and tugged you closer to him. “okay, last one. cheese!”

the screen began counting down again and you leaned closer into jun’s shoulder, getting ready to pose for the camera again. as the number got closer to zero, jun glanced down at you, frozen still, waiting for the camera to take the last photo.

“4… 3… 2…. ” the robotic voice from the machine counted down.

taking a deep breath, jun closed his eyes shut and dipped his head. it was a quick kiss, so soft and gentle, like cloud resting on the peak of a mountain. brief moment of contact before drifting away. 

jun’s lips felt soft against yours and you let a soft gasp. your jaw dropped in surprise as the camera flashed with another loud click. 

your knees wobbled, as if gravity had suddenly shifted around you. there was tightening feeling in your chest as you looked over at jun. he looked at you with a gentle, apologetic smile.

“sorry, i should’ve asked.”

the world seemed to still, each beat of your heart pounding loudly against your chest. the way jun was looking at you sent a cascade of warmth spiraling through your entire body and you smiled.

“it’s okay… i liked it.”

hoshi - grabbing you by the belt loops of your jeans

you could feel someone’s heavy gaze set on you and you already knew whose set of eyes the stare belonged to. listening to your other friend talk about his chemistry lab with a really hot dude, you glanced over your shoulder and made instantly eye contact with soonyoung.

he was on the other side of the gym, his elbows resting on his legs as he watched you with an unreadable look in his eyes. deciding to be obnoxious, you stuck your tongue out at him and his lips tugged up into a tight grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes like they usually did.

“sorry, but i think one of the teachers are looking for me.” you dismissed yourself from the small circle of friends. your friends waved you good bye and turned back to resume their gossiping session where they were trying to decide whether the hot guy from one of their chemistry labs swung both ways.

you jogged across the gym, dodging equipment and other students and staff who were getting ready for the annual homecoming rally. you and soonyoung both applied to asb your sophomore year of high school, desperate for some kind of extracurricular to pad your college application with. although being in your school’s asb came with a lot of responsibilities, it was fun when you did it with your friend(? situationship?).

soonyoung was sitting at the bottom bench of the bleachers, his face resting on his palm and his eyes watching you intently as you approached him. 

“what’s got you pouting? did seungcheol yell at you again?” you stood in front of him with your hands resting on your hips and a small smile. “come on, cheer up soonie. i promised to buy you frozen yogurt after this.”

he pushed himself up to his feet, now towering over you with his height. “you promised to do the banners with me.”

soonyoung’s bottom lip jutted out in an almost adorable way and you physically stopped yourself from cooing at him. 

“is that why you’re upset? because i ditched you and the banners?” you smiled and soonyoung nodded.

“you left me to hang out with those…” his words faltered and you glanced back to see the group of friends still gossiping. the discussion seemed to be getting pretty heated with the way you could hear seungkwan’s voice steadily growing in volume.

“them? we were just–“ you turned back to face soonyoung when you felt a gentle tug on your waist. stumbling forward, you now stood barely inches away from him. “soonyoung, what-”

he tried his best to avoid eye contact, his eyes darting around the gym as he nervously licked his lips.

“wndedootbewsjfhme...” soonyoung mumbled. his grip tightened on your belt loop, pulling you closer to him, your body now grazing his. 

“h-huh? wh… i can’t hear…” it was your turn to avoid eye contact now. your heart hammered against your chest, fast and hot in anticipation.

“i said… i wanted you to be with me…” soonyoung muttered. his ears were flushed, a bright shade of red that brought a small smile to your face.

“w-what, are you jealous or something?” you teased as an attempt to cover up how loud your heart was beating in your ears. 

soonyoung grinned. his shy and timid demeanor from seconds ago was nowhere to be found. in it’s place was the soonyoung you knew, complete with the overly confident and cocky smile accompanied by the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“what if i am? is that going to change anything?” 

wonwoo - leaving his game to give you attention

“wonwooooooo” you cried out. wonwoo let out a small grunt in response. “i’m boreddddd”

you perched yourself on the edge of his desk, watching his focused eyes stare at the monitor in front of him. his fingers were moving at a lightning fast speed, but his facial expressions demeanor seemed to scream calm and relaxed.

“you’re bored?” wonwoo echoed your last words and you nodded. although his eyes never left his screen, you could tell he was paying you the utmost attention he could currently afford. “hmmm… how can we fix that?”

leaning your head on wonwoo’s shoulder, you pouted. “i want you to play with me, not your games.”

wonwoo laughed. the corners of his eyes had a slight wrinkle and you felt something tugging at your heartstrings. “is that right?”

with a few clicks of his mouse, his monitor turned dark and his pc chirped, alerting him that the system had been shut down.

“wha-? you were in the middle of a game-“

wonwoo took off his headset and ruffled his hair with a hand, trying to fix it after hours of wearing a headset. “doesn’t matter. you’re more important.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat as you felt heat creeping up your skin, reaching your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

woozi - initiating pda in public first

it was loud. the football stadium was packed with students decked out in school spirit, and you could barely feel your fingertips from the biting cold.

“jihoon…” your fingers tugged on his sleeve and jihoon spared you a glance before leaning closer to you to hear you better in the loud crowd. “i’m cold...”

he looked at you and smiled. “told you to bring a jacket.”

“this is a jacket!” you retorted. 

“this?” jihoon laughed. you could see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he looked over your outfit. “honey, this jacket is basically a cropped top on steroids. you seriously expected this to keep you warm in this weather?”

you felt the tips of your ears burning at the new nickname he called you, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. that wasn’t the response you expected–or wanted.

“you’re being mean!” you whined, but a small laugh escaped your lips at the way jihoon faux-frowned at you. you lightly shoved his shoulder. “i’m being serious, it’s not about the jacket.”

jihoon raised a brow. “what could this possibly be about then?”

“it’s about…” you trailed off and shook your head. “never mind. it’s nothing.” 

you crossed your arms over your chest and turned back to face forward. a wave of embarrassment washed over you, serving as a wake up call. sure, you and jihoon had some thing going on, but you felt silly for expecting him to hold your hand or hug you in front of almost the entire school.

jihoon was a private person. that was a fact that you knew that better than anyone else. he wasn’t one to initiate physical contact when it was just the two of you, let alone in the middle of a busy high school football game.

“[name],” jihoon spoke quietly in your ear, his warm hand grazing against yours. “[name], look at me.”

when you didn’t respond, he let out a small puff, followed by a small laugh. 

“c’mere” jihoon muttered. he wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you closer to his side. “they say sharing body heat helps.”

 you stared blankly at him. the colony of butterflies in your stomach seemed to migrate to your heart and you swallowed thickly.

“wh- what if someone sees?”

jihoon let out a half snort. “let them see. i don't care”

note: jihoon had extremely red ears during this entire exchange, and no, it wasn’t because of the cold. trust me. 

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[vesearlee]

──── 𝑺𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑭𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Normally, when Caleb had to make it up to you, he had methods he had perfected; made tried and true over the span of time that stretched from childhood to adulthood. Only, this time, an accomplice was thrown into the mix to sweeten the deal, and it swayed you in his favour faster than you could comprehend the sudden, unique side kick.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Caleb x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 1.1k 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Fluff, kissing, apologetic Caleb 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── I saw a tiktok about a boyfriend bringing his girlfriend treats via a remote control car and went why not.

───  𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕  ───

It was a slow, albeit ordinary day in Skyhaven — the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of Caleb’s living room brightened the room and dark accents to feel homely as you cosied up on the couch. A few blankets were piled in your lap and tucked underneath your fuzzy sock covered feet. The rustling sound of paper from your book was the only sound in the comfortable silence.

Your hoped-for company was tucked away in his study, pouring over a few documents sent to him that the Fleet classed as ‘urgent’ — the grumbled and muttered threats to his subordinates were enough to make you chuckle lightly. 

Caleb only went once your hands squeezed his broad shoulders and forcibly turned him towards his office space. “Sooner you get done with paperwork, sooner you can come cuddle, ‘kay?”

“But–” He started, a small pout playing at his bottom lip as he looked over at you — it turned into a smirk while he watched your valiant efforts to make him move.

“No buts!” you grunted, shoving between his shoulder blades so he would move faster. “I’ll be on the couch waiting for you. So, hurry up, Colonel.”

His heavy footsteps echoed off of the walls of his study, and you heard him groan quietly as he sat at the desk chair, before the wheels scuffed over the floor. And from your place on the couch, you could hear the slight huffs of annoyance that left his lips, no matter how stifled they were. 

While time passed, you contentedly watched the clouds go by, only occasionally distracted by the words on the pages of your book that lay flat and open in your lap.

So, when the sound of whirring gears and the robotic revs of a small engine reached your ears, you froze. 

It was a familiar sound — a remote, Spitfire plane Caleb and you built when you were younger sounded almost identical, the tinny sound and imaginary battles he played out for your immersion echoed over the years to the present. 

You glanced towards the hallway that led to the study, where Caleb should have been focusing on paperwork, nothing appeared amiss; no dancing shadows or the sound of slight shuffling from his clothes to reveal he was planning a surprise. 

Furrowing your brow, you turned back to the window and grabbed your book to delve right back in. 

It happened again, only this time, it was much closer than before. 

You jumped, and the blanket bunched up on your thighs while you moved to sit up and investigate the source, when you finally found it. “What the–”

A model plane, the exact same one that you both built together years ago, was rolling around on the rug with such enthusiasm you could have sworn the pilot was attempting to recreate the feat of making donuts with a three-wheeled aircraft. 

Behind the plane and trailing from the tail was a rope, and attached to the ends of the rope was a packet of sour candy. A sticky note in the shape of a heart was stuck onto the crinkling plastic with an apple sticker — the simple gesture made you arch a brow, and the words ‘for my girl’ stood out in red pen.

“Caleb!” you called, and the plane stopped moving. It sat facing away from you. “Are you–?”

The question was cut short by the sound of movement from the craft — it turned slowly around, its cargo now beside it. The small engine revved and the blade attached to the front spun with the sound. “Caleb?” you said quietly, bending to look closer at your robotic company. “Can you see me–?”

One loud rev was your answer, and the flaps on the wings moved up and down.

You grinned — somehow, Caleb had rigged a camera to the cockpit, and he was controlling it from his office. “And what’s this candy for?” Two revs this time, and the plane scooted over the rug to be by your feet. The spinning blade touched the very tip of your toe.

“Sorry, I don’t speak plane,” you laughed, staring down at the robot. “Maybe a certain pilot needs to come out of hiding, he can share the candy with me if he brings me some apple slices.”

The small plane whirred and hurtled backwards, and you tracked the movements as it pivoted and positively flew away, its little wheels somehow never leaving the ground. It disappeared around the corner of the hallway, no doubt headed straight back to the operator for its next mission. 

You settled back into the cushions of the couch, and you placed the blankets back over your lap to await the plane’s next landing. 

A few moments later, heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway, until Caleb appeared around the corner with the plane right behind. This time, it had taken flight — Caleb’s hand swayed back and forth to simulate the swerves and tricks a fighter pilot could only accomplish. 

“Oh, there he is,” you teased. “Are you trying to make it up to me?”

“And if I was…” He continued forward, amethyst eyes darkened with playful tones of indigo. “What would you say?”

You hummed, and you shifted in place to face him, placing your elbow on the back of the couch and your chin on the palm of your hand. “If you were trying to make it up to me, I would say you’re only missing my apple slices.”

Caleb smirked. “Nothin’ else, huh?”

“Nope.” You grinned up at him as he came to a stop in front of you. “Well, if the Colonel has time for me now, I suppose I wouldn’t obje– Mmph!” Any further taunt you conjured was silenced by the feel of his lips on yours, and before you could reciprocate, he pulled back, his teeth only just letting go over your lower lip. 

Puffs of warm air fanned over your mouth, and you whispered against his lips: “That’s not fair.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Caleb rose and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, look.” The plane hovered behind his head for a second before it moved to the side to reveal a parcel fastened to its underside. A plate in the confines of what looked like an upside-down parachute, held the spoils of a few apples, sliced and plated to perfection. “It’s a mercy mission, see? My friend here softened the blow of my hasty return.”

Your hand reached for his wrist, and you yanked him forwards. “Wh–oa!” His tall frame collided with the couch cushions, and he landed with a grunt of surprise, sprawled against your side while the plane remained airborne. “Wha–?”

“Now you’ve made it up to me,” you stated proudly, smiling at his ruffled clothes and hair. “My big dummy.”

Caleb sighed and shook his head. “Where were we–? That’s right.” The remote to the wall-mounted television floated towards you. “Can’t spoil our show for you, can I?”

[arcane-fox]

The Warden.

GameWarden!Joel Miller x F!Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 3.8k WC | AO3

Summary: Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Power imbalance. DUBCON (could be considered NONCON). Reader is into it but she still doesn't have a choice. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. Explicit smut. Oral (male receiving). Fingering. Violence. Manipulation. Unprotected P in V. Cum talk. Creampies. Dark!Joel.

Notes: Please read the warnings. HUGE thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for beta'ing (love you, Odi!) Also FYI Game Wardens (also sometimes known as conservation / wildlife / DNR officer) can have broader authority than police and can even search your person / property without a warrant, are expert marksmen and usually work alone.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You saw the sign and ignored it, like you always did, as you walked down your favorite hiking trail. The one that few people knew about. The trail that was always peaceful and quiet and you rarely met another soul. Your hidden secret that you loved to escape to. The one that had been marked as “Trail Closed” for months now for reasons you could never quite figure out.  

As the forest thinned you finally reached the majestic bounty you sought. A quaint pond, nestled in the pines. The waters edge pebbled with rocks and ferns. Water lilies sparsely decorated the surface. What once was a sprawling picnic destination was now overgrown. Serene and abandoned to nature.  

You knelt down and ran your hands over the stones, picking up and admiring their unique beauty of the ones that caught your eye.

You were so preoccupied taking in the comforts of the world around you that you never heard him. Never even considered there were eyes on you, watching you from behind some overgrowth.

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as you stand quickly and turn around. “You’re in violation of State Park rules and regulations.”

“Huh?” Your words come out sounding dumb and caught off guard. You quickly scan for the source of the voice and see some movement in the bushes, revealing a man. 

He walks towards you, emerging from his hiding spot. A tall and broad man, head to toe in the standard olive green uniform that the wardens wore. A tactical belt and vest and a scoped rifle slung on his back. His toned physique mesmerizes you with each step forward.    

“It’s my sworn duty to enforce the law and enact justice as I see fit.” His words were robotic and rehearsed. 

As he got closer you could see he was an older man and incredibly handsome with some greys in his beard along his jawline. His hair was shorter with wavy curls, pushed back neatly with some silver catching in the sunlight. His skin weathered by the sun. His aquiline nose made his face look even more intense and powerful, matching his words. Broody and serious. This was a man who was in control.

“And you’re trespassing,” he lowers his voice, “in my territory.” 

You were trespassing. He wasn’t wrong. You felt your body flush with a wave of panic, with a hint of arousal crawling somewhere deep inside you. Lurking and waiting with intrigue and fear.  

“Area’s posted.” he says as he now stands in front of you. You are at a loss for words, caught doing what you thought was harmless.

He senses your panic and it rallies him to toy with you. 

“This is a protected wildlife conservation that you’re messin’ with, sweetheart.” He pauses and changes his tone to intimidate you as he leans in close. “And you see, I don’t like that.” 

You feel your heart race. Were you actually getting in trouble for taking an innocent hike in the woods?

“You know who I am?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest while he waits for you to speak. His veiny, chiseled forearms distract you. He looks so scrappy and dangerous. 

“The Game Warden?” You hesitate.

“That's right.” he nods with a cunning smirk. “Name’s Joel, but you’re gonna call me Sir.” He enunciates it firmly.

You feel your body overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. You were scared but also felt a pulsing go through you when he spoke. You didn’t want him to be upset with you. Everything about him was screaming: dangerous, do not piss off.  

“I’m sorry about trespassing. I didn’t know… Sir.” You added his title for good measure.

But you did know. You knew every time you walked past the sign at the entrance telling you not to. Bullshit was not going to fly here and only fueled him more. 

“Lying to an officer too?” He shakes his head as it hangs low. He circles you with intimidation, looking you up and down. Lecturing you with silence and waiting for your reparations to be determined.  

You can’t fight off that lukewarm feeling inside you that grows warmer. Slowly it gnaws away at your resolve. Seeing him with the tactical vest on that snuggly accented his chest and left his belly exposed with nothing but his green shirt covering it. The only spot that was vulnerable and soft. The rest of his body was strong, protected by his excessive gear, lean muscles and mean looks.   

You see his name badge embroidered with ‘MILLER’ and accidentally whisper his name out loud like it's a question. Wondering who this man is and what his intentions are. In the peaceful calm of the woods in the middle of nowhere, your whisper may have well been a shout.

“Officer Miller.” He corrects with authority in his tone as he leans over you. “And I’m gonna have to discipline that mouth of yours.”

You’ve never been in trouble with the law before, and certainly never had a run in with a Game Warden. You knew they were essentially lone wilderness cops with a god complex and few restrictions. Still, you knew this was far from acceptable behavior. Everything about how he was acting was wrong. You open your mouth to protest, but hesitate on his threats. He relishes in how you work it out in your head that talking back isn’t going to get you out of this. You can only bite your tongue so long.

“I’ll report you.” You threaten back, acting like you have some moral upper hand to hang over him. 

“Go ahead. Ain’t nothing you can do about your situation right now, sugar plum.” He scoffs. “Not to mention, s’your word against mine.” He stops circling and leans into your ear as his southern drawl makes the words sound smooth and buttery. Hot and melting on his breath as they drip out of his mouth. 

“Wanna take a guess who wins?” He says deviously and you can feel his patchy beard scrape against your jaw as he pulls away. A shiver pulses through you, right down to your pussy. Beating to his unsought touch. 

Why is this turning you on so much?

“You see darlin’, I’ve been watching you for a long, long time.” He circles again. “And you keep breaking the rules.”

Your heart races. This was getting serious. The realization hits that he can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and that is exactly his intention.

“On your knees, and hands where I can see ‘em.” he barks. 

You obey, folding under his commands. Hoping your obedience would lessen the blow. 

You drop down gently unsure of what exactly he was playing at, treating you like a violent criminal. You stretch your arms out to your sides with your palms up in submission. He stops just in front of you, scooching down so he is eye level. A tiny grunt as his knees bend. Tobacco and leather scents accompany him. 

“I’ll let you off with a warning… if you promise me you won’t be doing it again.” He offers. Sweet words coming out slow and sticky like honey.  

“I won’t. I promise. It won’t happen again.” You quickly plead. Foolishly hopeful this was it. Ignoring the conditional implication of his terms.   

He stands back up with his arms crossed before raking one of his hands through his hair, thinking. He wasn’t buying what you were selling. 

He paces in front of you. The obscene bulge in his pants was impossible not to notice as he parades it past your sightline. Back and forth, back and forth. He was packing more than just a firearm. 

He stops directly in front of you so your eyes are mere inches from it. You look all the way down to his feet in an attempt to hide the red that flushes your face. Trying to dismiss your own arousal that was getting louder and wetter. 

He reaches down to your chin and cranes your neck up to look at him with an urgency. 

“Gonna’ need some convincing, sugar plum.”

Fuck...

He releases you and walks to the nearby weathered picnic table and lays his rifle down. He unsnaps his utility belt that was strapped over his waist and leg and tosses it along with his handgun in tow. It made his broad shoulders look even wider with his waist unhindered by the bulky gear.

The uppercase “WARDEN” embroidered on the back of his green tactical vest serves to remind you that he is an officer of the law. It taunts you as he takes his sweet time laying out his things neatly on the table while you wait with anticipation for whatever was happening next.  

As he turns to walk back towards you, snatched in his vest, he tries to conceal the smirk pulling up from the corner of his mouth. You hate how good he looked, as if it could ever excuse how disgusting he was behaving.  

He stands coolly just a foot in front of you and unbuckles the modest leather belt. The metal clasps clank loudly as he lets it hang down and unzips. He clocks your reaction as he pulls up his shirt enough to show his messy thatch of hair trailing down his lower belly.   

He can’t be serious… 

Reaching a hand inside his boxers he pulls them down slowly as his cock peeks out. Big and fat and leaking. Aching to be touched. 

He is serious.

His eyes are focused intently on yours, watching them widen as you take in his cock. It's just in front of your nose as you look up and sit back on your haunches.

“Go on,” he growls and lowers his voice. “Convince me.”

He reaches his hand around his cock and pumps it. The broad head glistening in his precum as he drags his hand down his shaft. You wonder how long he had been watching you and if he had been stroking himself before he approached you. Maybe this interrogation was all foreplay for him. In fact, you were certain it was.   

The hot feeling surging in your core surprises you. You were actually turned on by this pig. Still, you knew this was beyond fucked up. You hesitate with what to do next, conflicted by his abuse of power and the inappropriate way your body was betraying you.     

“You gonna disobey a warden?” He threatens, getting impatient. 

You wonder what if you refused? What if you didn’t play his game? What would he actually do? It still didn’t feel like there was an option other than what was right in front of you, demanding your obedience. 

This was only ending one way. His way. 

“No, sir.” You swallow and fight back the tears. You place your palms and claw your fingers into his thighs as you sit up straight. You start to open your mouth and look up at him with glossy eyes. Conceding to him. 

You catch that spark of darkness igniting in his eyes. Burning hot and formidable as it spreads through him. Your misfortune was making him harder.

He parts your mouth open with the tip resting on your bottom lip. He teases it in and out, letting you feel the weight as the ridge catches on your lip. 

God he was big.

“Give it a kiss first and be real polite.” 

You close your lips over the tip and appease him with your gentle touch. Polite even. You suckle it delicately, drawing out beads of saltiness as it drips onto your taste buds. You can’t stop your natural impulse to flick his slit with your tongue and it makes him stiffen even more, twitching in response.

“Good girl.” he praises as he tangles his free hand in your hair. You wince as his firm grip pulls you closer to him. He pushes into your mouth. Inch by inch. The hand on his cock held it steady until you were adjusted to his size. He lets go and slides his hand above your nape, letting you take the full weight of his cock as you hollow your cheeks.

He was so thick. 

You decide to give him something he wants without asking, attempting to entice him to be kinder. His roughness was starting to hurt when he pulled at your hair and dug into your skin. Relaxing your mouth he pushed further in without your protest. Nestled tight in your warm and wet paradise. You notice his urgency shift.  

“Nice and slow. No need to rush.” He commands as you take him deeper. This order sounds more like it's for himself so he doesn’t cum too early. You can feel how close he is. He was ready to burst the moment you dropped to your knees. 

You gag as the head hits the back of your throat.   

“Oh, you sound pretty like that.” He moans as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Choking on my cock.” He makes a guttural sound as he nudges his cock even deeper into your throat. He was impossibly large as he fights to stuff you full.  

“Hold still.” He fucks into your mouth. Harder. Harder. Harder. Pulling your hair too tight and pushing your head too far onto him as he bucked into you.

With tears in your eyes making your nose run you can hardly breathe. Gasping and choking  and a cock stuffed in your mouth, bruising your throat with each plunge.

He snarls as he looks down to you, locking eyes. Blown out. Feral. Dark and desperate like he was giving in to his wildest, forbidden desires with no regard for you. It was a selfish need he was taking for himself and only himself. You were nothing. A wet hole for his cock to fuck.  

He was coming undone. His moaning and panting echoing across the serene pondscape and tainting your safe escape forever. Even that memory he was taking from you. 

You were waiting for it. Bracing for his hot spend to pour into you but instead he slowed. Thrusting deep into you with a grunt before dragging out his wet, dripping cock. He winced as it popped out of your mouth and you gasped for air.

This sick fuck was edging himself. 

He wanted more. Needed more. 

“Get up.” His haggard, breathy words bite at you.

He lifts you up by your hair. You quickly comply to relieve the pressure on your scalp as you stumble to your feet. A whine escapes you as he lets go roughly. 

“Gonna make sure you learn your lesson today.” He gestures to the picnic table just a few steps away and you shamefully go to it. 

He pushes you to lean over the bench and bends you in an ‘L’ shape. You press your arms against the seat to hold yourself up. He drags his hand down your back and around to your hips, admiring your delicate form laid out before him. He wanted to lose himself inside you.

He drags a hand between your legs and feels your cunt hot and wet against your shorts. He lets out a growl as his fingers get soaked along your seam. 

You hate how good it feels to have him touch you where you ache for friction.

“Mmm…” he groaned as he breathed in your arousal on his fingertips. “Knew you wanted this cock inside you.” He ruts his hardness against your ass. 

He slides his hands over your back. Over your hips. Down the sides of your legs until he stops abruptly. Fingering at something jagged in your pocket. Something you forgot was there. 

“What's this?” 

Your heart stops. You can tell from his tone that he knew exactly what it was.

He slips his hand in your pocket and pulls out two shiny stones you had collected from the waters edge.

Fuck.   

“Caught stealing from the cookie jar.” He clicks his tongue to scold you. He was stacking his case with further evidence to hang over your head.

“Oh, Darlin.” He fakes a sympathetic tone. “You’re in big trouble now.”

It was then you realized he knew all along. He was watching your every move. He was waiting for the right moment to manipulate you to his will. 

“Bad girl. Larceny is gonna cost you more than just an apology.” He drops the rocks carelessly and grabs your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one motion. You gasp as he makes you step out of them as he pushes you forward so your knees are on the bench seat. You catch yourself on the edge of the table. Half naked, exposed and totally fucked. 

“Spread 'em nice and wide for me.” He knocks your legs apart with his knee as he stands behind you, his cock notched against your entrance and it sparks an adrenaline surge inside you when you feel his tip press into you. 

“Please!” You beg him. “Please stop. I’m not letting you fuck me!” You spit out with an attitude. This was a line too far. A line he was intentionally pushing to see how far he could go before you fought back. 

Unsurprising to you, he liked playing with fire.  

He reaches out and grabs your neck with his wide grip, roughly pinning you prone against the table so you can’t move. He leans over, and hovers low to your ear as his shaft drags against your seam. 

“Ain’t making you do nothing, sugar plum.” He pauses and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo as he prods you gently with his nose. Tantric and hungry with his movements. 

“I can take you now and then we’ll be done with it, or I can take you in. S’your choice.” He loosens up his grip on your neck and sits back slightly. He feels the way you tremble under his touch, and the way your cunt throbs against his heat still pressing against it.

You feel it too. Something you can’t explain. A primal feeling of desire. Surrendering to your most basic human needs. That having him inside you might not be so bad. A rationalizing in your brain that you did wrong after all. It’s only sex. 

Only sex. You’ve certainly done worse with lesser men under the guise of alcohol. 

“I can promise you, they won’t be nearly this forgivin’ at the state prison.” He traces his finger down your spine, being delicate and gentle. Tracing until his finger runs into his belly pushed flush against you. He leans back and grabs his cock. Painfully hard and still soaked from earlier. He presses the head right against your swollen clit and rubs it against you. 

You let out a moan and he knows he has you.  

“Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want to cum all over my cock.” He strokes your clit with his head again and again. Knocking at your door and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ll make it real good for you, sugar plum.” Your clit pulses on his cock. Needy and hedonic. Forsaking any restraint you have left to say no.

You take a deep breath and curse under your breath, curling your fingers around the edge of the table as you sit up and face forward.

“Get on with it.” You concede. 

He smiles wickedly. He was always going to get what he wanted in the end.

With you still sitting on your knees he locks his body against yours, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and wraps a hand around the front of you, rubbing and pinching at your clit with his rough fingers and dipping them into your hole. Spreading your slick. Stretching you open as he scissors his fingers.    

His body against yours was so much bigger. Broad and strong. You were the mouse and he was the lion about to pounce. His heat piercing through your skin. You felt him line up at your entrance, nudging you with his tip. 

There is no more patience or preparation. He needs to fuck you now. Needs to have that friction choking his cock that has been rock solid for too long. Without warning he thrusts into you again and again and again. Each time a little deeper and harder. His fat head catching on all your ridges as your pussy grabbed onto him.

It felt so fucking good and you hate it. You hate him.  

He stretches you more than you’ve ever felt before. The initial pain subsides as he rubs your clit fiercely with his fingers. The pleasure inside you builds. He kept his word that he would make it real good for you.  

He puts his leg up on the bench for leverage and bottoms out inside you with a grunt as he pulls you down on his cock. Fucking up into you and impaling you with his cock.   

Your moans run away from you, loudly filling the air with obscenities. You feel your climax building up inside you. You’ve never been fucked so hard in your life and you are soaking him. You know he won’t last much longer.

“Please..” you beg him between moans. 

“Please what?” he snarls as he fucks you harder, his cock ready to spill. 

“Please... Sir. Pull out,” you beg him.

He laughs at your ridiculous request and ignores you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you hard against his body. One hand wrapped around and splayed over your belly and the other curled around your breasts and pushing on the front of your throat. He had you held so tightly to him there was no way you could stop him. 

Your climax tears through you. 

“Carry in… Carry out.” He recites the most basic of park rules between grunts while you brace for it. “Leave nothing behind.”

He releases into you. His hot cum coating your deepest walls as he empties into your cunt with the loudest orgasm. He pushes you down prone and fucks it deep inside you before he starts to soften, making sure you know he was deliberately filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on you and you breathe together for a moment. He leaves an unexpected kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, silently thanking you for letting him use your body. 

“Next time pay attention to the game cams, sugar plum.” he nods up at a nearby tree and he gives a side smile. Mocking your mistake. 

He withdraws his cock from you and lets you fall forward, his cum already running down your legs. He eyes your mess with a smirk, pleased with his conquest. 

“I’m always watching.” He says with a wink.

Tagging some cool people that I love very much and fellow Joel Hole comrades (please note if it’s too dark for your taste it’s totally ok to skip!)

@magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @youandmeand5bucks

@toxicanonymity @wethairjoel @evolnoomym @almostfoxglove @beardedjoel

@aurorawritestoescape @hellishjoel @lotusbxtch @murder-wife @joelstummy

@pearlessance @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @sawymredfox @macfrog

@slimybeth69 @whocaresstillthelouvre @joelsdagger @baronessvonglitter @covetyou

@chronically-ghosted @skbeaumont @yourcoolauntie @yopossum @beefrobeefcal

@sp00kymulderr @moonlitbirdie @wheresarizona @syd-djarin @punkshort

@sin-djarin @guiltyasdave @strang3lov3 @frannyzooey @tightjeansjavi

@cavillscurls @gasolinerainbowpuddles @pedgito @survivingandenduring

@ozarkthedog @mountainsandmayhem @schnarfer @pedrospatch @penvisions

[nostalgebraist]

Anthropic's stated "AI timelines" seem wildly aggressive to me.

As far as I can tell, they are now saying that by 2028 – and possibly even by 2027, or late 2026 – something they call "powerful AI" will exist.

And by "powerful AI," they mean... this (source, emphasis mine):

In terms of pure intelligence, it is smarter than a Nobel Prize winner across most relevant fields – biology, programming, math, engineering, writing, etc. This means it can prove unsolved mathematical theorems, write extremely good novels, write difficult codebases from scratch, etc. In addition to just being a “smart thing you talk to”, it has all the “interfaces” available to a human working virtually, including text, audio, video, mouse and keyboard control, and internet access. It can engage in any actions, communications, or remote operations enabled by this interface, including taking actions on the internet, taking or giving directions to humans, ordering materials, directing experiments, watching videos, making videos, and so on. It does all of these tasks with, again, a skill exceeding that of the most capable humans in the world. It does not just passively answer questions; instead, it can be given tasks that take hours, days, or weeks to complete, and then goes off and does those tasks autonomously, in the way a smart employee would, asking for clarification as necessary. It does not have a physical embodiment (other than living on a computer screen), but it can control existing physical tools, robots, or laboratory equipment through a computer; in theory it could even design robots or equipment for itself to use. The resources used to train the model can be repurposed to run millions of instances of it (this matches projected cluster sizes by ~2027), and the model can absorb information and generate actions at roughly 10x-100x human speed. It may however be limited by the response time of the physical world or of software it interacts with. Each of these million copies can act independently on unrelated tasks, or if needed can all work together in the same way humans would collaborate, perhaps with different subpopulations fine-tuned to be especially good at particular tasks.

In the post I'm quoting, Amodei is coy about the timeline for this stuff, saying only that

I think it could come as early as 2026, though there are also ways it could take much longer. But for the purposes of this essay, I’d like to put these issues aside [...]

However, other official communications from Anthropic have been more specific. Most notable is their recent OSTP submission, which states (emphasis in original):

Based on current research trajectories, we anticipate that powerful AI systems could emerge as soon as late 2026 or 2027 [...] Powerful AI technology will be built during this Administration. [i.e. the current Trump administration -nost]

See also here, where Jack Clark says (my emphasis):

People underrate how significant and fast-moving AI progress is. We have this notion that in late 2026, or early 2027, powerful AI systems will be built that will have intellectual capabilities that match or exceed Nobel Prize winners. They’ll have the ability to navigate all of the interfaces… [Clark goes on, mentioning some of the other tenets of "powerful AI" as in other Anthropic communications -nost]

----

To be clear, extremely short timelines like these are not unique to Anthropic.

Miles Brundage (ex-OpenAI) says something similar, albeit less specific, in this post. And Daniel Kokotajlo (also ex-OpenAI) has held views like this for a long time now.

Even Sam Altman himself has said similar things (though in much, much vaguer terms, both on the content of the deliverable and the timeline).

Still, Anthropic's statements are unique in being

official positions of the company

extremely specific and ambitious about the details

extremely aggressive about the timing, even by the standards of "short timelines" AI prognosticators in the same social cluster

Re: ambition, note that the definition of "powerful AI" seems almost the opposite of what you'd come up with if you were trying to make a confident forecast of something.

Often people will talk about "AI capable of transforming the world economy" or something more like that, leaving room for the AI in question to do that in one of several ways, or to do so while still failing at some important things.

But instead, Anthropic's definition is a big conjunctive list of "it'll be able to do this and that and this other thing and...", and each individual capability is defined in the most aggressive possible way, too! Not just "good enough at science to be extremely useful for scientists," but "smarter than a Nobel Prize winner," across "most relevant fields" (whatever that means). And not just good at science but also able to "write extremely good novels" (note that we have a long way to go on that front, and I get the feeling that people at AI labs don't appreciate the extent of the gap [cf]). Not only can it use a computer interface, it can use every computer interface; not only can it use them competently, but it can do so better than the best humans in the world. And all of that is in the first two paragraphs – there's four more paragraphs I haven't even touched in this little summary!

Re: timing, they have even shorter timelines than Kokotajlo these days, which is remarkable since he's historically been considered "the guy with the really short timelines." (See here where Kokotajlo states a median prediction of 2028 for "AGI," by which he means something less impressive than "powerful AI"; he expects something close to the "powerful AI" vision ["ASI"] ~1 year or so after "AGI" arrives.)

----

I, uh, really do not think this is going to happen in "late 2026 or 2027."

Or even by the end of this presidential administration, for that matter.

I can imagine it happening within my lifetime – which is wild and scary and marvelous. But in 1.5 years?!

The confusing thing is, I am very familiar with the kinds of arguments that "short timelines" people make, and I still find the Anthropic's timelines hard to fathom.

Above, I mentioned that Anthropic has shorter timelines than Daniel Kokotajlo, who "merely" expects the same sort of thing in 2029 or so. This probably seems like hairsplitting – from the perspective of your average person not in these circles, both of these predictions look basically identical, "absurdly good godlike sci-fi AI coming absurdly soon." What difference does an extra year or two make, right?

But it's salient to me, because I've been reading Kokotajlo for years now, and I feel like I basically get understand his case. And people, including me, tend to push back on him in the "no, that's too soon" direction. I've read many many blog posts and discussions over the years about this sort of thing, I feel like I should have a handle on what the short-timelines case is.

But even if you accept all the arguments evinced over the years by Daniel "Short Timelines" Kokotajlo, even if you grant all the premises he assumes and some people don't – that still doesn't get you all the way to the Anthropic timeline!

To give a very brief, very inadequate summary, the standard "short timelines argument" right now is like:

Over the next few years we will see a "growth spurt" in the amount of computing power ("compute") used for the largest LLM training runs. This factor of production has been largely stagnant since GPT-4 in 2023, for various reasons, but new clusters are getting built and the metaphorical car will get moving again soon. (See here)

By convention, each "GPT number" uses ~100x as much training compute as the last one. GPT-3 used ~100x as much as GPT-2, and GPT-4 used ~100x as much as GPT-3 (i.e. ~10,000x as much as GPT-2).

We are just now starting to see "~10x GPT-4 compute" models (like Grok 3 and GPT-4.5). In the next few years we will get to "~100x GPT-4 compute" models, and by 2030 will will reach ~10,000x GPT-4 compute.

If you think intuitively about "how much GPT-4 improved upon GPT-3 (100x less) or GPT-2 (10,000x less)," you can maybe convince yourself that these near-future models will be super-smart in ways that are difficult to precisely state/imagine from our vantage point. (GPT-4 was way smarter than GPT-2; it's hard to know what "projecting that forward" would mean, concretely, but it sure does sound like something pretty special)

Meanwhile, all kinds of (arguably) complementary research is going on, like allowing models to "think" for longer amounts of time, giving them GUI interfaces, etc.

All that being said, there's still a big intuitive gap between "ChatGPT, but it's much smarter under the hood" and anything like "powerful AI." But...

...the LLMs are getting good enough that they can write pretty good code, and they're getting better over time. And depending on how you interpret the evidence, you may be able to convince yourself that they're also swiftly getting better at other tasks involved in AI development, like "research engineering." So maybe you don't need to get all the way yourself, you just need to build an AI that's a good enough AI developer that it improves your AIs faster than you can, and then those AIs are even better developers, etc. etc. (People in this social cluster are really keen on the importance of exponential growth, which is generally a good trait to have but IMO it shades into "we need to kick off exponential growth and it'll somehow do the rest because it's all-powerful" in this case.)

And like, I have various disagreements with this picture.

For one thing, the "10x" models we're getting now don't seem especially impressive – there has been a lot of debate over this of course, but reportedly these models were disappointing to their own developers, who expected scaling to work wonders (using the kind of intuitive reasoning mentioned above) and got less than they hoped for.

And (in light of that) I think it's double-counting to talk about the wonders of scaling and then talk about reasoning, computer GUI use, etc. as complementary accelerating factors – those things are just table stakes at this point, the models are already maxing out the tasks you had defined previously, you've gotta give them something new to do or else they'll just sit there wasting GPUs when a smaller model would have sufficed.

And I think we're already at a point where nuances of UX and "character writing" and so forth are more of a limiting factor than intelligence. It's not a lack of "intelligence" that gives us superficially dazzling but vapid "eyeball kick" prose, or voice assistants that are deeply uncomfortable to actually talk to, or (I claim) "AI agents" that get stuck in loops and confuse themselves, or any of that.

We are still stuck in the "Helpful, Harmless, Honest Assistant" chatbot paradigm – no one has seriously broke with it since that Anthropic introduced it in a paper in 2021 – and now that paradigm is showing its limits. ("Reasoning" was strapped onto this paradigm in a simple and fairly awkward way, the new "reasoning" models are still chatbots like this, no one is actually doing anything else.) And instead of "okay, let's invent something better," the plan seems to be "let's just scale up these assistant chatbots and try to get them to self-improve, and they'll figure it out." I won't try to explain why in this post (IYI I kind of tried to here) but I really doubt these helpful/harmless guys can bootstrap their way into winning all the Nobel Prizes.

----

All that stuff I just said – that's where I differ from the usual "short timelines" people, from Kokotajlo and co.

But OK, let's say that for the sake of argument, I'm wrong and they're right. It still seems like a pretty tough squeeze to get to "powerful AI" on time, doesn't it?

In the OSTP submission, Anthropic presents their latest release as evidence of their authority to speak on the topic:

In February 2025, we released Claude 3.7 Sonnet, which is by many performance benchmarks the most powerful and capable commercially-available AI system in the world.

I've used Claude 3.7 Sonnet quite a bit. It is indeed really good, by the standards of these sorts of things!

But it is, of course, very very far from "powerful AI." So like, what is the fine-grained timeline even supposed to look like? When do the many, many milestones get crossed? If they're going to have "powerful AI" in early 2027, where exactly are they in mid-2026? At end-of-year 2025?

If I assume that absolutely everything goes splendidly well with no unexpected obstacles – and remember, we are talking about automating all human intellectual labor and all tasks done by humans on computers, but sure, whatever – then maybe we get the really impressive next-gen models later this year or early next year... and maybe they're suddenly good at all the stuff that has been tough for LLMs thus far (the "10x" models already released show little sign of this but sure, whatever)... and then we finally get into the self-improvement loop in earnest, and then... what?

They figure out to squeeze even more performance out of the GPUs? They think of really smart experiments to run on the cluster? Where are they going to get all the missing information about how to do every single job on earth, the tacit knowledge, the stuff that's not in any web scrape anywhere but locked up in human minds and inaccessible private data stores? Is an experiment designed by a helpful-chatbot AI going to finally crack the problem of giving chatbots the taste to "write extremely good novels," when that taste is precisely what "helpful-chatbot AIs" lack?

I guess the boring answer is that this is all just hype – tech CEO acts like tech CEO, news at 11. (But I don't feel like that can be the full story here, somehow.)

And the scary answer is that there's some secret Anthropic private info that makes this all more plausible. (But I doubt that too – cf. Brundage's claim that there are no more secrets like that now, the short-timelines cards are all on the table.)

It just does not make sense to me. And (as you can probably tell) I find it very frustrating that these guys are out there talking about how human thought will basically be obsolete in a few years, and pontificating about how to find new sources of meaning in life and stuff, without actually laying out an argument that their vision – which would be the common concern of all of us, if it were indeed on the horizon – is actually likely to occur on the timescale they propose.

It would be less frustrating if I were being asked to simply take it on faith, or explicitly on the basis of corporate secret knowledge. But no, the claim is not that, it's something more like "now, now, I know this must sound far-fetched to the layman, but if you really understand 'scaling laws' and 'exponential growth,' and you appreciate the way that pretraining will be scaled up soon, then it's simply obvious that –"

No! Fuck that! I've read the papers you're talking about, I know all the arguments you're handwaving-in-the-direction-of! It still doesn't add up!

[if-you-soul]

Mischaracterization in the CCCC fandom: a yapsesh (alternative title: Erm... What the Gore is Going On?)

Hi. Woaw. I'm actually making that post I talked about.

So. One thing I've noticed in the CCCC fandom is this weird fixation on gore, torture, violence, etc. Usually a level of graphic content that makes your average horror flick look... pretty tame!

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy horror! I even think a horror story based around psychological conflict similar to CCCC could work well!

But is it just me, or has this fandom COMPLETELY lost track of what the characters are like in the source material?

Like. Let's be real. Nowhere in the album does Soul do gruesome surgeries on Mind, nowhere does Mind go ripping people to shreds like Doomguy, et cetera. The closest thing we have to an implication of violence is what most of us call the "Juno incident"- as even "tines stabbed through eyes" is clearly a metaphor with the next line: "that the sides have condemned."

Im gonna talk ab the characters themselves under the cut

I feel the biggest victim of this mischaracterization is Soul. In the album he's... kind of a victim, really. He toughs out being dismissed and fought over and pushed aside and outright dehumanized for so, so long. Are we seriously just... going to characterize him based solely on his lowest point in TSE? Spring and a Storm and Mucka Blucka are also songs where he's present- along with his presence in Just Apathy that the fandom seems to outright deny to keep their characterization of him as some violent, abusive monster. (Which, again, is quite literally never alluded to! He's honestly kind of a victim, if anything!)

Ohhkay. Next topic. Mind. Oh boy I have thoughts on how people characterize Mind.

He's not emotionless. If you believe this, you've fallen for his stoic facade. All of his songs are just. So full of so much rage. Maybe even a little bit of grief and sadness and fear, masked by said rage. He isn't some emotionless robot- (Heart calls him an automaton as an insult, but that's another rant.) and honestly it feels like such a disservice to such an interesting character with so much unexplored depth to portray him as such.

Heart. Oh boy. Where do I start. Heart what did they do to you.

Heart is the emotional side, yes, but that isn't just some... smol innocent uwu baby who cries all the time. Emotions aren't small and cute and timid. They're INTENSE and PASSIONATE and EXHAUSTING. Strong emotions leave you so, so drained, good OR bad. This is so much more interesting than portraying him as some "uwu hai dere!!" type of character. Which is nowhere in the album.

Whole is hardly even a character. Soul worshipping and praying to whole is fanon.

This fandom's weird obsession with creating shock gore and one-upping each other in a violence competition has spiraled pretty far out of control, and it's honestly crazy. How do you go from an album about internal conflict to violence that would make even the cast of Resident Evil cringe? Brah.

Final notes uhhh. Soul is a victim who got pushed to his limit, not an evil heartless abuser. Mind is angry and unstable and hurt, not some emotionless robot. Heart is the entire emotional spectrum, not some innocent baby. Ok i . I think that's all. Have a good one

[em1989ts]

Hi! So i have this idea, also kinda inspired by the last request (cuz I loved the way it turned out) you do what you please with it🙂‍↔️

Five, after all he had gone through, finally got to figure his feelings out and realizes he wants to spend the domestic life he always craved with reader, after playing no strings attached, he just goes for it

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.5k

masterlist.

summary: after the universe was reset, you and five finally get to settle down and live the life you want

author's note: thank you for the request!! keep 'em coming!! this one i did rather quickly, and it's not as in depth as i like but i quite like it :) hopefully you enjoy

not proofread

One moment, you feel like you’re getting your soul pulled from you in one of the most painful experiences of your life.

Forced to watch as your partner and his family go through the same fate. 

Their sister sliced open their father’s head, revealing him to be a green blooded alien robot, as you all were released from the source draining your powers from you

You remember looking over at Five as you fell to the floor.

He was your partner at the commission who you banded off with to stop the apocalypse. He had a makeshift tourniquet around his severed arm, the two of you withering in pain against the cold tile as you tried regaining your breath. 

The two of you had gone through so much together. Far too many apocalypses for two elderly teens to handle in less than a month. You were both so stressed, being pushed and pulled around by the universe with endless complications. It seemed like every single day since you first returned to 2019, something had always managed to go wrong. 

Yet, you always had Five, and he had you. 

You kept each other sane. 

You were exactly what the other needed. 

Nobody really understood what you two were, but you definitely weren’t just coworkers. 

There were so many instances where the two of you had gotten drunk, and either cried in each other's arms or passionately made out. 

Whatever could distract the two of you from the unstoppable fear of failure. 

That fear of not being able to save the world, save his family, save each other. It ate you alive. 

It was almost as if you were the same person, with the same mind, you could understand each other so well, yet that didn’t mean you could read each other’s mind. 

It was hard to tell whether your intimate moments together had any correlation to how he truly felt about you. You knew he loved you, as much as he loved his family. He was such a caring, selfless man. It always hurt to watch when his family overlooked how much he sacrificed for them, how they constantly blamed him. You made sure he never felt overlooked when he was with you. 

His blue-grey skin horrified you. The wrinkles in his face, showing how close he was from death in that moment, utterly horrified you. His eyes, so much darker than his light green irises, full of suffering, was a sight you never wanted to see again. 

Everyone pleaded with Allison as her hand hovered over the glowing button. 

Once she hit it, everything went black. 

~~~ 

The next moment, you realized you were standing. 

You felt different. 

Cleansed, almost. 

You heard a ding and opened your eyes, realizing you were standing in a crowded elevator. It somehow opened up into a memorial park. The night was rainy, and you could hear the city sounds so clearly through the open air. 

As everyone walked over and explored their surroundings, you scanned Five. 

No more discolored skin, no more wrinkles, perfect eyes, and . . . his arm? 

Before you could mention it to him, you heard Viktor break the silence first. 

“Luther?” he said. 

Everyone turned their attention to the elevator, as the now skinner Luther made his way out. 

“You can see me?” he said excitedly as Viktor jumped into his arms for a strong hug, “I’m alive!” 

“That’s not all, big guy,” Viktor referenced Luther’s new figure. 

At this point, Five had realized his arm had returned, giving you a small wave with it. 

You laughed with a smile before tugging him into a hug, so relieved you made it out alive once more. He wrapped both his arms around you as he dug his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you heard him grumble into your hair. 

Before you could respond, Five was snatched from your grasp by Luther, frantically asking about his wife. Five reminded him about the universe being reset, which apparently wasn’t a good answer. 

“Okay, screw this,” said Five before attempting to blink, yet he went nowhere. 

Immediately looking panicked, he said, “Something’s wrong.” 

Luther threatened him once more as everyone tested their powers. 

Luther eventually ran off to find Sloane, with Klaus right on his tail. 

“Peace out, bitches,” was the last you heard from Ben before he took off. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Diego asked now that everyone was breaking off in their own direction. 

You glanced over at Five to find him already looking at you. His eyes communicated with you in a language intelligible to anyone else in the world. When he held his hand out, you took it firmly. 

“Live our lives?” Lila asked, unsure. 

Once her and Diego walked off hand in hand, Five gave one last look to Viktor before he squeezed your hand and walked towards the archway, leading onto the sidewalk. 

The two of you didn’t say anything at first. You could feel the rain land gently on your face, in your hair, on your sweater. It was the perfect, cool night in the city. The air was clean. 

You could take a deep breath without feeling the weight of the world crushing your lungs.

There were zero expectations. No time travel laws you had to follow. No people you were assigned to kill. No countdown till doomsday. 

You were free. 

With Five’s hand in your, you quickened your pace and started running down the sidewalk. It took him by surprise but he followed your lead, letting you drag him down the block, without a care in the world. 

The two of you felt free. 

It was about time.. 

You stopped suddenly. Wet hair framed your glowing face as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He did the same, as he waited patiently for you to speak your mind. He brushed raindrops off your face, admiring your furrowed brow, showing you were deep in thought.

“Wait a minute,” you had realized something. 

“If the universe is reset, where do we go? What do we do? I mean, there’s no academy anymore. There’s no record of us anywhere. How do we get a job if we don’t exist yet? How do we find somewhere to live if we don’t exist yet? We don’t have any money so we can’t afford a hotel room, we’re going to have to sleep on a bench tonight and it’s fucking rainin-” 

He cut you off with a hand on your cheek and a swift kiss to the lips.

That definitely shut you up, but he spoke before you could even register what happened.

“We’ll figure it out,” he smiled at you, still holding your face, caressing your cheek with his palm. 

“I don’t care where we go or what we do. But whatever happens, I want you by my side.” 

You had never seen Five like this. So worry free, so genuine. He looked as though so much weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You knew because you felt just the same. 

Without a word, you kissed him once more, confirming your enthusiasm to live your new life with him. 

You never would’ve thought settling down would be in your cards, but here you were, kissing your partner, Five Hargreevess, in the pouring rain. 

As you pulled away, you laughed and asked, “Are you ready for this new adventure, Five?” 

Of course you’d go anywhere with him, you’d even sleep on a park bench if it meant you would be safe in his arms. This didn’t mean you’d be too thrilled to be sleeping in the rain. He smiled wide, his dimples prominent, and took your hand in his once again.

“Ready when you are.”

~~~

[geminiwritten]

desperate measures ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: based on this song but a little more angsty than i had originally planned (the avengers are struggling to infiltrate an underground crime ring and decide that bucky should go undercover to seduce one of the kingpins' daughters, and you aren't happy about it)

notes: bucky is back, baby!!! but i fear i may have forgotten how to write him? i don't know, i had big plans and then feel like i really struggled toward the end, but i persevered! let me know what you think, please!!!

word count: 6329

The Avengers have protected the entire world against aliens, robots, and superhumans. They’ve defended continents and countries, defeating threats that should have been impossible to beat. So, you would think that taking down one of New York City’s biggest underground crime ring would be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

It’s been four months since representatives of the Attorney General's office and the FBI’s Deputy Director came knocking, asking Earth’s Mightiest Heroes for help on a matter that would normally be handled by detectives. Steve and Tony were hesitant at first, but Natasha and Clint convinced them that with their espionage backgrounds, this would be an easy assignment for the team. Also, wrong.

Four months of reconnaissance, undercover work, and meeting after meeting with agents from the Bureau but still nothing.  There are suspects, crimes, and witnesses, but the operation is so tightly run that no one on the outside has any information on how the puzzle pieces fit together.

“We need to get inside,” Clint says, resting his palms on the glass tabletop and shifting all of his weight forward. He is standing at the head of the table in front of the interactive display flashing through numerous headshots of mean-looking thugs.

“We know that much,” Steve sighs, sitting beside where Clint is standing. “What we don’t know is how.”

Everyone looks defeated and bored, because you’ve been having the same meeting every week for the last fifteen weeks with almost no new intel to discuss. After the first month, you started tuning out, instead using the two hours to daydream about the brunette super solider sitting across from you.

You’re not sure when you fell in love with Bucky Barnes, all you do know is that you are in love with him, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not that you’re at all subtle with the way your eyes trace his features, cheeks turning pink when he meets your gaze with a little smirk.

If you’re being completely honest, you’ve both been dancing around your feelings for each other for months. You’re constantly with each other, talking and giggling, working out together and finishing mission reports together; practically inseparable, but always being careful. You’re too scared to cross that line, because neither of you want to put that kind of pressure on the team or leave yourselves vulnerable to heartbreak.

Physical pain, you can do, but you’ve let yourself fall so hard and fast for this man, you can’t imagine surviving the impact when you hit the bottom, so you’ll just keep falling.

“I have an idea,” Nat says, standing abruptly and walking quickly around the table toward Clint. She uses her fingertips to enlarge one of the holographic images, the Petrov family portrait. “Sasha Petrov,” she points at the eldest daughter, “she’s a weak link, we can exploit that.”

You scan the stoic faces of the Russian family now on display. The Petrovs are allegedly one of the two ruling families of the crime syndicate, led by their patriarch, Alexander Petrov; a man the FBI would do anything to pin down.

“Holy shit,” Tony smacks both hands against the table, “Romanoff, you’re a genius.”

“Wait,” Steve frowns, “what am I missing?”

“Sources report that twenty-four-year-old Sasha Petrov is outgrowing her family's conservative lifestyle,” Nat reads from the tablet in her hands, “she has been photographed at various nightclubs and house parties, clearly unbothered about keeping a low profile.”

“So?” Steve asks, “What credibility does some tabloid article have?”

“Our sources are reporting the same behaviour,” Tony says. “She’s out almost every night, she’s been seen staying at friends’ houses, and missing events.”

“The Petrovs are one of New York City’s wealthiest families,” Nat explains, “for their eldest daughter to skip society events is a huge statement.”

“She’s rebelling,” Tony states.

Steve nods slowly, “So, she’s a liability, but how to we exploit that?”

Tony’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, “What is the number one act of rebellion that a daughter can do to piss off her father?”

“Date a guy he hates,” you reply before anyone else does.

“Exactly,” Tony turns toward you, “bonus points if you can tell me why daddy hates your new boyfriend.”

“He’s older, has long hair, only wears black, probably has a tattoo, and he rides a motorcycle,” you respond, sitting back in your chair with a proud smirk.

“Exactly!” Tony repeats louder.

It’s almost as if a lightbulb flashes above Steve’s head, but he doesn’t look nearly as pleased as Natasha and Tony. “Bucky,” Steve says, “Bucky is your idea?”

Nat nods, “Barnes is our weapon.”

Clint’s eyes grow wide, “Wait, you want to use Barnes to seduce the mobster heiress?”

Your heart sinks right down into your stomach, your gaze moving back over to the Petrov family portrait. The eldest daughter is tall and gorgeous, with long blonde hair, flawless fair skin, and honey-coloured eyes. Her lips are full and puckered, and all you can think about is those lips on Bucky.

“No,” you speak before you can think, quickly looking toward Steve for backup.

He nods once in agreeance, “Y/N’s right, I’m not sure Bucky can-”

“I can do it,” Bucky interrupts. He doesn’t look shocked or at all blinded-sided the way you know you do. He seems calm, leaning back in his seat with his left ankle resting on his right knee and his hands fidgeting with a pen in his lap.

Bile rises in your throat. He wants to do it? You know you haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your feelings for him, but you had yourself reasonably convinced that he felt the same way.

Sam chuckles, breaking the tension in the room, “You’re going to turn Barnes into a heartthrob?”

Bucky cracks a smile, “Just a bit of minor surgery.”

“Actually,” Nat says, “I think you’re already perfectly ready for this assignment.”

Tony holds up a finger, “Do you have a tattoo, and if not, are you willing to get one?”

“No one is getting any tattoos,” Steve interjects, “but if we are doing this – if we’re sending Bucky in solo – we need to plan it carefully.”

Your eyes dart back to the gorgeous blonde in the family portrait behind Nat, and you feel sick. You completely tune out of the conversation happening around you and sink back in your chair to focus on keeping your lunch down. Your mind races to come up with some brilliant excuse that could stop Bucky from doing this, but the only thing you can think to say is I love you, please don’t.

After barely a minute of listening to them discuss how to get the mobster’s daughter to fall in love with Bucky, you decide you can’t do it. You push your chair back and quickly leave the room, slipping out the door before anyone can protest your departure.

Once in the hallway, you slow your steps and let a couple of tears run down your cheeks. You feel stupid, of course, but you can’t help it. You know you shouldn’t be this emotional, Bucky will only be doing his job, but he’s supposed to be yours. You don’t want anyone else seeing him the way you see him or touching him the way you want to. If the plan works, this woman might genuinely fall for Bucky, and the idea of that makes you want to kick and scream.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice echoes down the hall, startling you.

You keep your back to him as you hurriedly wipe your cheeks. His footsteps grow louder as he approaches, not saying anything until he’s right behind you. “You alright?” he asks.

You nod, turning to face him with your eyes cast downward, “Yeah, sorry, just-”

“Don’t bother,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, “I’m not stupid, and neither is Barnes. I know you’re worried about whatever is going on between you two, but this is work, and it’s the closest we’ve gotten in four months. It might not be ideal to send one man in alone, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You finally look up at him and sniffle, “I know, I just don’t like it.”

He sighs and pulls you against his chest, hugging you tightly for a moment. “If you don’t like it,” he says before stepping back, “then stop crying and do something about it once this is all over.”

Your brow creases and you look up at him curiously, “Do what?”

He shrugs, “You’ll figure it out.”

You watch him walk back down the hallway and return to the meeting room, but you can’t find the will to force yourself to follow. Instead, you turn around and continue on your way back to your room.

Two hours pass before you hear signs of life filtering through the compound once again. You’ve since changed into your comfiest pair of sweatpants and curled up on one of the lounges by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the common area, book in hand.

Sam and Steve are the first to appear, still deep in discussion as they head into the kitchen and begin raiding the fridge. Clint, Nat, and Wanda are next, also seemingly unfinished with their conversation as they take up residence on the lounges in front of the television. Only Nat notices you curled up near the window, offering you a smile that says ‘we’ll talk later’.

You manage to tune out most of their voices and focus on your book, reading quickly to try and get to the part where the main characters finally get together. You’ve been stuck on romance novels lately, craving that which you lack in real life.

“Hey,” Bucky startles you, suddenly appearing beside you.

You smack your hand against your chest, “Jesus.”

“Nope,” he chuckles, “just me.”

You roll your eyes and curl your legs up further to make room on the lounge. He takes the offer and flops down, half of his right leg covering your toes, but you don’t mind. In fact, you like the physical contact, however small.

“What are you reading now?” he asks, snatching the book from your grasp before you can object.

Your cheeks begin burn immediately, heart racing as you watch his eyes scan the pages that you’d just been reading. The smile on his lips slowly fades as his eyebrows rise, blue eyes darting from side to side until he finishes two entire pages.

“So, this is why you’ve always got your nose in a book, hm?” he asks, his own cheeks now a pale shade of pink.

You take the book back and jam your bookmark between the pages where the lead male is jerking off to fantasies of what he wants to do to the lead female. “It’s not all porn,” you defend yourself weakly, deciding not to add that this is one of your more PG-rated novels.

“I’m not judging,” he says, “we’ve all got needs.”

You want to agree wholeheartedly and tell him that you need him, and more importantly, you need him to not agree to this stupid mission with the supermodel Russian heiress, but you can’t. Instead, you simply nod and tuck your book between your thighs.

He clears his throat, “Anyway, I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say, “just sick of those meetings.”

He frowns, “Are you sure?”

You open your mouth to lie again but hesitate, noticing the way his eyes dart toward your lips every few seconds. There’s nothing wrong with voicing your concerns about the assignment, right?

“I’m just not sure,” you finally say, “for a first effort, this feels kind of last ditch.”

“First effort?” he repeats with a chuckle. “This is far from our first effort, Doll.”

“I know,” you sigh, struggling to find the right words, “I guess it just feels a little drastic, sending you in alone. Couldn’t the FBI handle this?”

He rests his flesh hand on your knee, “I appreciate the concern, but I think I might be able handle this better than an FBI agent, and I speak Russian.”

The warmth of his touch and the fact that you can smell his coconut-scented shampoo is turning your brain to mush, and you struggle to remember your argument. All you want to do is throw your arms around his neck and beg him not to go.

He leans forward, “What are you really worried about?”

“You,” you reply, “I-I’m worried that you’re going in alone.”

He sighs and leans back, “You don’t need to worry about me, Doll, nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.” He stands up from the lounge as he says, “I promise.”

You’re too shocked to speak, or even move, until he’s in the kitchen with Steve. You can feel your pulse in your ears, fast and loud as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Was he trying to get you to say something? Does he want you to cross that line?

You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing your book and then starting another. After a quick dinner with Natasha, you decide to have a bath and try to tame your thoughts, but it’s useless. All you can think about is Bucky, in fact, you ‘think about him’ twice while in the bath and end up getting out even more flustered than when you got in.

You lay on your bed in your towel for almost an hour, wondering whether you should go and confess your feelings to Bucky or just wait and let him do this assignment with a clear head. Nat told you at dinner that he will be going undercover for the first time tomorrow night, and that Clint and Tony are working overnight to prepare his fake identity in time.

Eventually, you decide that it’s too late and you shouldn’t bother him, so you put yourself to bed. You stare at the ceiling spiralling through thoughts for twenty minutes before picking your new book up again and by 3AM, you’ve finished it.

The night rolls into dawn, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t had more than thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep. At 5AM, you decide that it isn’t too early to be making noise, so you change into your gym clothes and make your way downstairs. You work out for two hours before you see anyone else, and by then, you’re exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, standing in front of where you’re sitting on the blue foam floor mats.

You’re supposed to be stretching, but you’re fairly sure you were falling asleep right before she came in. “Yeah,” you mumble, “didn’t sleep much.”

“I can tell.” She sits beside you, “Are you really that worried?”

You sigh, “I don’t know.”

She places her towel and water bottle on the floor beside yours before sitting down opposite you, legs crossed. “You don’t know if you’re worried, or you don’t know what you’re worried about?”

“The second one,” you mutter.

She nods slowly, allowing a moment of silence before asking, “You don’t really think he’s going to fall in love with this woman, do you?”

You sigh and rub your tired eyes, “No, I don’t think so. I know he’s not stupid.”

“And you know he’s in love with you,” she states.

“Is he?”

She rolls her eyes as she uncrosses her legs, stretching them out either side and leaning forward slightly. “Don’t be dumb, you know he is.”

“Then why hasn’t he done anything about it?”

“It’s Bucky,” she says, as if the answer is obvious.

“So?”

“So, you need to make the move, because he’s being as forward as he knows how, but he hasn’t done this kind of thing in over seventy years.”

You frown at her, not because you’re confused, but because you’re annoyed that she’s right. Maybe you haven’t both been ‘dancing around’ your feelings, maybe Bucky has actually been trying to make a move but you’re the one keeping it friendly.

“But please wait until after we’ve put Petrov and his buddies behind bars,” she adds, “because we need Barnes to be focused.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, “How do we even know that this woman is going to fall for him?”

“Based on her previous relationships and assuming Barnes does everything I tell him to do, we shouldn’t have a problem,” Nat replies as she pushes up from the ground. She offers you a hand, “Now, please go get some sleep so you’re not crying your eyes out when we send him into the lion’s den tonight.”

You take Nat’s hand and collect your things before sluggishly making your way back to your room. After a quick shower, you fall into bed and out of consciousness in less than a minute, dreaming of nothing but that darn brunette super soldier.

Funnily enough, the name of the exclusive nightclub Bucky will be meeting Sasha Petrov in is called the Lion’s Den. It’s just south of Manhattan, somehow hidden from the busy streets and can only be found if you know exactly where to look for the entrance.

The whole team is working tonight. Wanda and Sam will be going into the club with Bucky so he doesn’t look like a complete loner, and as emergency backup in case anything should go wrong. Clint is the eye in the sky and Nat is patrolling the streets, looking out for anything suspicious since crime seems to follow the Petrov family around. That leaves you, Steve, and Tony set up in a nearby office building with all the surveillance technology to watch from afar.

“I just need to send word to the Deputy Director before you go in,” Tony says over the comms.

He has his tech set up at one of the desks closest to the window on the fourth floor of the office building. The FBI had assisted with securing this vantage point, shutting down the whole building for ‘overnight maintenance’ just in case any sad nine-to-fivers decided to sleep in their offices.

“We’ll take a little detour,” Sam says, his voice right in your ear even though you know he’s over a block away.

You’d all separated about two miles away from the club, taking different routes and transports to get to your respective posts. Bucky, Sam, and Wanda had decided to walk, giving the rest of you enough time to set up and be in position for whatever might happen when Bucky enters the club. He has very strict instructions from Natasha on how to approach Sasha. Apparently, they’d be practicing all day while you had been sleeping.

“How long until you’re at the door?” Nat’s voice comes through your comms.

“Eight minutes,” Wanda replies.

“Bucky, you good?” Nat asks.

“I’m good,” he says, the sound of his voice making your chest ache.

You can’t stop wringing your hands as you look out the huge window to the street below. There aren’t many people walking by, but the few that you do spot all seem to be heading in the same direction; the Lion’s Den.

The sound of your pounding heart thrums in your ears, drowning out the conversation between Bucky and Natasha as they recap everything that she’s told him to do. You're not sure you’ve ever felt this nervous in your life, but you’re not entirely sure what for. Nothing bad has happened yet, and Bucky is fully capable of defending himself if something does go wrong.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice breaks through the white noise that your anxious brain was creating, “are you okay?”

You turn to face him, “Yeah, sorry, I-”

“You’re really pale,” he says, pressing his hand to your forehead, “have you eaten today?”

“Not really.”

Steve glances back at Tony, who is worrying at his bottom lip as holds his phone to his ear, no doubt waiting for the Deputy Director to answer.

“I told you to stay behind,” Nat states.

You frown, even though she’s almost half a mile away right now, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N?” Bucky says.

Your heart leaps in your chest, “Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay,” he pauses, and you try to calm your breathing, “I’m going to be okay.”

Tony snorts and pretends to gag before turning back to his computers and sitting in one of the empty desk chairs, obviously no longer worried.

“I just-” you hesitate, “I can’t let this-” you huff and pull your comm out of your ear, “I can’t let this go.”

You take off running through the open plan office area until you reach the door to the stairwell, shoving it open and leaping down the stairs as many at a time as you can manage. Once you reach the bottom landing, you pull your phone out of your back pocket and hang up on the incoming call from Steve before opening the tracking app that Tony installed on everyone’s phones. It isn’t always active, only during missions.

Bucky’s location pings a quarter mile down the street. You exit the building and turn in his direction before taking off in a sprint, your lungs burning with every breath. It only takes a minute until you can see the three of them up ahead, on the opposite side of the street, and it only takes about ten seconds for them to notice you. They all stop, probably trying to figure out if you’re a threat or not, but after another few seconds, Bucky recognises you.

Your energy wanes and your pace slows to a jog. You look behind you to check the traffic before crossing the road, but when you turn to check the traffic up ahead, Bucky is already right in front of you.

You practically crash into him, but his hands catch your waist and hold you still, “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath, “I can’t let this go.”

He isn’t angry, but you can’t quite place the expression despite how close you are to him, your body pressed against his. “Can’t let what go?”

You take a deep breath to try and appease your burning lungs, “I got you right where I want you, and-” you take another breath, “I’ve been pushing for this for so long.”

His brow furrows, “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

Your chest finally stops aching, and you look up at him through your lashes, “Kiss me, just once, for luck.”

His frown disappears, and you worry for a moment that you shouldn’t have crossed that line, but then his hands move to cup your jaw and he closes the distance between your lips. Your hands find purchase on the nearest part of him, fisting the hem of his shirt as one of his hands slides down your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. You part your lips and he sighs, pressing his body impossibly closer to yours.

He tastes like spearmint and cold air, and his lips are so soft that you have to wonder if you’re dreaming, but then he startles and pulls back. Panic washes through you as you watch his face, his eyes no longer on you but cast across the street at Sam and Wanda.

“I’m sorry, Doll,” he says, before placing another quick kiss on your lips, “I have to go.”

Without the warmth of his body, the night air is biting. You instinctively wrap your arms around yourself and turn back the way you came, your mind racing. Did you just fuck everything up? Surely not. Bucky is still going in, and it’s not like one little kiss is going to completely derail this mission. Right?

It takes you a lot longer to get back to the office building than it did for you to leave, but thankfully, Bucky is already inside the club and Steve and Tony are too focused to berate you.

You sit in one of the spare desk chairs and watch over Tony’s shoulder, refusing to put your comm back in. You don’t want to hear what’s happening, you want to remain in blissful ignorance instead of listening to the man you’re in love with chat up some mobster’s supermodel daughter. Bucky can be incredibly charming when he needs to be, and according to Steve, he was a major ladies’ man back in the day.

After an hour or so, you slide your chair over to a spare desk and lay your head down. You feel useless and a little stupid, but mostly, just tired. You know the team are annoyed at you and just waiting until tomorrow to reprimand you, but technically, it’s their fault that you did that. They pushed you toward desperate measures.

The next thing you know, someone is gently shaking your shoulder and interrupting your dreams of Bucky. The images of him standing over you while you wait on your knees for him to finish in your mouth quickly fades, and you open your bleary eyes to see Steve.

“Hey,” he whispers, “time to go.”

You sit up slowly, “What happened?”

Something about his expression is off, and you wonder why he’s being so gentle as he wraps an arm around to help you stand. It’s almost as if you’re a child and he’s trying not to wake you for the fear that you might not go back to sleep.

“Steve,” you say, pulling away from him and standing on your own, “what happened?”

He takes a deep breath and steps back, “Bucky did really well, that’s all. Nothing happened.”

“Yet,” Tony adds.

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t baby her, Steve,” Tony says before turning his attention to you, “Barnes took Sasha home.”

They both watch you carefully, waiting for the explosion, but you know you’ve already given them enough to deal with today, so you muster every ounce of your self-control to stay calm.

You swallow thickly, “Okay. Let’s go.”

You pick up one of the cases by Tony’s feet and continue walking toward the stairwell. As soon as you begin descending the stairs, tears start to fall down your cheeks. You try to focus on your feet through your blurry vision, making sure you don’t trip until you reach the bottom landing.

Natasha pulls up with the car and Clint jumps out to help load the trunk. You climb into the back, buckle your seatbelt, and press your head against the cold window. The car rocks as the others climb in, and normally you would love to make fun of Steve and Tony squished in the back with you, but not tonight.

The drive home is long and awkward. Wanda calls in and Nat answers via the Bluetooth, immediately informing her that you’re in the car so that she doesn’t go into too much detail. However, she does let you all know that it went better than expected and Barnes will report back in the morning. He’s taken Sasha to the apartment that Tony set up as a part of the fake identity.

If you’re being honest, you hadn’t even thought about this part. You knew he would flirt and touch her, and they would probably kiss, but you completely forgot about sex. How? You have no idea, especially considering that every time you close your eyes, you’re picturing him naked.

You feel sick and you know you won’t sleep tonight, but most of all, you feel like an idiot. You almost jeopardised the entire mission just because of your feelings. You want to apologise to the team and tell them you’ll never do it again, but you can’t stop crying and you can’t make that promise right now.

When you finally get home, you start dragging your feet toward your room, but Natasha stops you. “Hey,” she tugs on your hand, “want to watch a movie?”

You frown, “It’s really late.”

She shrugs, “I’m not tired.”

After a quick shower, you change into your pyjamas and meet Nat in the living area. She is already curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, flicking through Netflix, so you join her silently and rest your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t ask what you want to watch, she just picks a random comedy from the late 90s and snuggles up beside you.

Your whole body is tired, but your mind won’t stop racing. You can’t stop picturing him with her, wondering what they’re doing right now, and regretting what you did right before he walked into that club. Obviously, it hadn’t meant as much to him as it did to you, because you know you couldn’t possibly have gone off to sleep with someone else after that, but you have to keep telling yourself that it’s a good thing. He’s doing what he needs to do to finish the mission, it doesn’t matter how sick it makes you feel. He’s doing his job.

An hour passes but your nausea doesn’t ease, nor do you feel at all like you might fall asleep. Nat is still awake too, and you know it’s not because she isn’t tired but because she’s worried about you. When the first movie finishes, she stretches her legs out and declares that she’s going to make a coffee, so you too unfold your legs and shuffle into the kitchen with her.

“Is Tony going to be mad?” you ask, your voice thick from crying.

Nat sighs, “I don’t know. I think it depends on what Bucky reports in the morning.”

Your stomach swirls angrily, threatening to eject whatever is left of the small amount of food that you ate almost eight hours ago.

Nat finishes making her coffee and holds it in both hands, watching you with worried eyes as fresh tears streak down your cheeks. She opens her mouth to speak again but the sound of heavy footsteps interrupts her. Both of your heads turn quickly toward the door, and for a second, you think you might be hallucinating.

“Bucky?” Nat says, confirming she can see him too. You’re not that crazy.

He doesn’t look at her, he doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on you, his breaths coming and going quickly as if he ran all the way from the city. The only thing you can feel is your heartbeat, radiating through your whole body like a drum beat, pounding in your ears.

“Okay,” Nat says slowly, “I’m going to go, but- uh,” she looks toward you, “forget what I said before, Tony might be mad.” She puts her half-drunk coffee in the sink and moves quickly out the door.

Silence blankets the room, save for Bucky’s laboured breathing. He still looks gorgeous, despite his dishevelled clothing and flushed skin. His hair is out, though you distinctly remember it being tied back before the club, and there’s a smudge of pink lipstick on his shirt collar.

“What happened?” you ask, though you’re not sure you really want to know.

He doesn’t respond, he simply takes four long strides to reach you and cups your jaw before pressing his lips against yours. You don’t react at first, partly from shock and partly because he doesn’t taste the same, but when his hand slides down your throat the way it had before, you kiss him back.

He takes half a step closer, pressing your bodies together as his tongue slides past your lips. You sigh and lean into him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his pants to pull him closer. He shivers at your touch, instinctively arching his hips toward you and tilting your head back to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls back for a breath, he murmurs against your mouth, “Couldn’t do it.”

You push up onto your toes to kiss him again, to which he enthusiastically obliges. His hands wrap gently around the base of your neck and his fingers tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging softly as your tongue laps at his.

This time, you break away for air, “What do you mean?”

He sighs and relaxes completely, his body no longer pressed against yours but still close. His hands find yours and gently pull them out of his pants, though it seems to take a lot of self-control for him to do so.

“I thought I could do it,” he says, “because it’s work, and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

You drop your gaze to the collar of his shirt, the smudge of pink lipstick.

“She was-” he struggles to find the right words, “well, she was really into it, but I couldn’t even kiss her.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, trying not to appear satisfied about the fact that you practically ruined the whole assignment.

“She didn’t seem to care, though,” he adds, “and it wasn’t hard to get her to come home with me.” You drop your gaze again and try to pull your hands out of his grasp, but his grip tightens and he tugs you closer again. “I could barely look at her, let alone touch her.”

He crooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “So, to answer your question,” he says, leaning toward you, “nothing happened.”

He closes the distance and kisses you again. Your mind goes blank, clean of any thoughts or worry, completely consumed by the way his lips feel against yours and the way his hands are moving down your body.

Your heart throbs, threatening to burst as you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

You can feel his mouth curl into a grin, feeling more teeth than lips against your kisses. His hands brace themselves against your back, one splayed between your shoulder blades and the other on your lower back, holding your body against his.

“I am yours,” he mutters, “my body, my heart, all of it... yours.”

You can’t help but giggle, happiness creeping through your body for the first time in twenty-four hours. You feel high, as if Bucky is a drug and if you ever have to be away from him again, the withdrawals might kill you.

He gives you another quick kiss before taking a step back and shedding his jacket. He dumps it on the counter and looks back at you, “There are a lot of things I want to do with you right now, but I am way too tired to do them properly right now.”

Your stomach does a little anticipatory somersault, but you too are finally feeling the ache of exhaustion and need for sleep. You take one of his hands in yours and drag him toward the lounge where you and Nat had been laying. You pick the blanket up, sit down, pull him down beside you, and throw the blanket over both of you. He quickly kicks his boots off and shuffles around until he is lying beneath you. With your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you fall asleep in mere seconds.

The sound of whispered chatter wakes you up, and you blink blearily against the bright morning sun as you try to sit up. Bucky is still asleep, but over the back of the couch you can see your other teammates gossiping in the kitchen.

Natasha notices you first, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You carefully push yourself up and rub your eyes, mumbling, “Morning.”

"Did you two fuck on my lounge?” Tony asks bluntly, pausing in the middle of the kitchen with the coffee pot in one hand and a mug in the other.

You frown, “No.”

“Good,” he says, beginning to pour the coffee into his mug, “so, all you did was ruin our one shot at real insider intel.”

A pebble of guilt sinks to the bottom of your stomach, weighing it down despite the butterflies still dancing around about the fact that Bucky is finally yours.

“Calm down, Stark,” Bucky grumbles, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open. He sits up slowly and looks up at you, a little smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

“Oh, excellent,” Tony walks halfway toward the living room, “you’re both awake so I can yell at you both for-”

“I took her phone,” Bucky interrupts, gesturing at his jacket on the kitchen counter, “it’s in the pocket. You better be quick though, because she’ll probably realise pretty soon.”

Tony’s eyes grow wide, “What? How did you-”

“She was really drunk,” Bucky shrugs, “I convinced one of the bartenders at the club to come home with us and then I snuck away when the two of them were preoccupied.”

“Oh, my God,” Nat says, a wide grin plastered across her face, “Barnes, you’re a genius.”

“That’s why you were flirting with the bartender,” Sam chuckles, “man, I thought he was more into you than her.”

Tony hurries back to the kitchen bench and plonks his mug down with a slosh before rifling through Bucky’s jacket. He finds the phone quickly and beckons Steve with him as he disappears out the doors. Wanda and Sam begin regaling Nat with stories about last night and Bucky turns his attention back to you.

“Good morning,” he says, offering you his hand and yawning widely.

You can’t help but yawn too, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head in the crook, enjoying the smell of his cologne mixed with sleep and warmth. He kisses your head, and you move to kiss his neck before spotting the pink lipstick stain and pulling back.

“How about a shower?” you ask. “Then we can burn this shirt.”

He frowns, and you stretch the material out just enough for him to peer down and see the mark. “Oh,” he chuckles, “alright, but it’s only fair if we both take our clothes off.”

You press your lips against his, mumbling, “Deal.”

END.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Angst | Boothill x GN!Reader Homecoming

SUMMARY He thought he lost everything, but you were always here, waiting for him to come home

CONTENT Angst to fluff, happy ending implied basically, mentions of past traumas, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES Just read Boothill’s character stories… I am unwell… So I wrote this LMAOO enjoyyy GUH I just started playing the game but alas the hyperfixation is already here Also, Boothill, please actually come home please I have soft pity soon

WORD COUNT: 921

Boothill was visiting the Aeragan-Epharshel reserves, seeing what was left of his tribe, his distant family, and because honestly it was just one of those times where he was really missing home. It just hurt because home no longer existed for him. The memories still pop up sometimes. How he searched the entire burnt house for anyone, anything to rescue. It was years ago, but still haunts him, it always will. So that’s why he’s here. Just visiting because why not. No one quite knew him here, but it felt fairly cozy. The few buildings around the area were lively with families and they had farmland and livestock like he always did when he was younger. The sun was setting, lighting everything in golden and orange hues. He enjoyed the warmth on his skin, well, the skin on his face at least. A few of the townsfolk offered him some food since he was just passing by and because the town was so small, everyone knew when there was an unfamiliar face. They also wanted to help him because he helped where he could during the day, just helping people lift and move things, even catching a loose chicken. It was actually pretty nice and for the first time in a while, he smiled, just genuinely enjoying life, watching the sunset, sitting on a bench, eating his food.

It was peaceful and the warm breeze tousled his hair and brushed his face. But he also heard something insane, the name he hadn’t heard in years. It felt like it wasn’t even his name anymore but rather from a previous life in a different body. Worst or maybe best of all, it was your voice.

His eyes were blown wide, mechanical heart somehow racing. Was the robot body driving him insane? The doctor was pretty shady honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she fudged his brain up too.

But still, curiosity made him look around for the source of the voice, even if it didn’t exist.

You watched him look around before shifting on the bench to fully turn to see you. Both your hands were hovering over your mouth, eyebrows upturned as your eyes couldn’t believe it.

When he turned, his eyes locked on your figure. Maybe you were just a hallucination, but hallucinations don’t age, don’t get more mature or taller. You look the same but different, and maybe that was enough evidence for him to believe he wasn’t psychotic.

He stood up slowly, taking careful steps towards you as your hands shook, adrenaline pumping through your body. It felt like it took hours for him to close the few meters between you but once you saw his eyes, you knew. It was him.

“Lord… It really is you,” you breathed out as you reached out slowly, not wanting to spook him but also barely believing that he was actually there. Your hands slowly cupped his face and he forgot how warm things like this felt. Tears pricked at his eyes. At this point he didn’t care if this was a hallucination or not, he just wanted to indulge himself for once. Just believe that he didn’t lose everything. That maybe he could still have you, one of his only friends outside of his family that he had while growing up. His first love that he never had enough time with, not even enough time to confess.

It was almost cruel how you felt the same and how much your heart ached upon seeing his teary eyes, frozen in disbelief, staring into yours. You brushed your thumbs over his cheeks trying to comfort him and show him you really were here.

He started to question himself. Why did he never check out the towns whenever he came back to investigate the IPC on Aeragan-Epharshel? Your house had been destroyed but he never confirmed your corpses, only those of his own family. It was too much, he just assumed the worst at the time.

But now here you are, tears streaming down your face, looking as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on you.

“Darlin’… what happened to ya fer all these years?” You asked, questioning where he had been but also what happened to his body. You closed your eyes as your eyebrows scrunched together, unable to control your emotions and crying at this point. You quickly pulled him into a hug, arms wrapped around his neck. Reflexively, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight. Your chests flush against each other.

God how he wished he wasn’t cold metal right now. He wanted to feel you with his own skin, feel your warmth, how soft you were. But he could only barely make it out with the sensors on his body. Maybe he could get some upgrades? Link some more things to his brain?

He quickly snapped himself out of his own thoughts to finally respond to you. You shivered hearing his voice again.

“It don’t matter now sweetheart. All that matters is that I’m home,” he said slowly and shaky. You squeezed him harder as you started to sob into his shoulder. It made his own tears fall as he started to stroke your back.

“I thought I’d never see ya again,” you choked out.

“Same here darlin’,” he said, voice cracking.

“I’ll tell ya all about it, and ya tell me about yerself too,” he says between breathes, his throat closing from needing to cry. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere this time…

promise.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth adopts a cat. How does everyone in Shinra react?

Angeal: He's spiraling. Processing the implications. "So I joked about being your dad one (1) time, and now you adopt a cat? Technically that makes me the cat's grandfather. I'm not ready for this responsibility, Sephiroth. I don't even know how to knit!" (He learns how to knit. The cat now owns seven sweaters).

Hojo: Absolutely livid. "A pet?! You have no need for companionship, you are a weapon of war!" Rants about allergens and dander compromising Sephiroth's "biochemical sanctity." Sephiroth responds by flooding his Shinra email with daily cat updates: the cat in a tiny cape, the cat curled on his chest, the cat pawing at Hojo's shredded research notes. Hojo blocks the sender. Sephiroth starts mailing prints.

Genesis: Absolutely incensed. Not at the cat itself, he's not a monster, but at the audacity. "So when I invite you for coffee and a deep-dive literary discussion, you're 'too busy,' but this little furred interloper gets to nap on your shoulder during dinner??" He's convinced the cat is scheming. Worming its way into Sephiroth's daily schedule like it's staging a coup to replace him. He now refers to her as "That Furred Usurper" in passing.

Lazard: At first? Thrilled. Overjoyed, even. "Sephiroth forming a bond with a pet, remarkable! Proof of emotional development!" He tells the press offhandedly that Sephiroth's new feline companion is a symbol of Shinra's evolving image. But the honeymoon ends the day Sephiroth brings the cat to a meeting. Doesn't say a word about it, just sets her on the conference table. Midway through a quarterly budget report, the cat meows. Loudly. Right as Lazard's discussing defense spending. Everyone goes quiet. Sephiroth casually says "She disagrees with your projections." Lazard tries to recover. Then Sephiroth starts translating every meow like a running commentary. "She says your graphs are unclear." "She questions the validity of your sources." Lazard considers resignation.

Zack: Takes it dead seriously. This is Sephiroth's cat. This is a military-adjacent feline with implied rank. One time he walked into Sephiroth's office to get a permission slip, but Sephiroth was out, and only the cat was there. Zack stared at her. She stared back. He saluted, said "Ma'am!" and left. He's now convinced she outranks him. Will catch himself standing flat against the wall so she could pass first through a door.

Reeve: Surprisingly invested. "Make sure she has vertical space because cats love to climb. What's her litter made of? You might want to try tofu based!" He builds the cat a miniature version of Sector 8 for enrichment as a gift. Tries to set up playdates between her and "this totally normal robot cat toy I have, trust me she'll like it." Cait Sith and the cat end up becoming besties.

[primeofprimes115]

Hot and Bothered - Supergirl x Male Reader Smut

Smut 💕

Requested: Yes, from Wattpad

Being the boyfriend of the renowned cousin of the Man of Steel had it's perks... And it's downsides.

The relationship for starters was perfect for the two, Y/N couldn't be anymore happier dating Supergirl, the Girl of Steel herself. Y/N had moved into Kara's own apartment in New York since they announced their relationship to their loved ones.

Kal and Kara's friends and many allies were reluctant on the fact she was dating a normal human being, while Kal was supportive and understanding, considering he's engaged with Lois Lane, many others told her the dangers and cautions she must take when dating someone like Y/N, considering he's human and she isn't.

Her adoptive family however were ecstatic to hear she was engaged in a relationship with a boy, they were happy to hear she was doing well for her own and have noted to wanting to meet the boy she fell for, which was kind of the other way around, he fell for her first.

On Y/N's side of things, his family and friends were happy for him, his parents especially, his mother made it known that the girl he was dating had to get passed her first before she was fully accepted in, which took no time in fact when they finally got to meet her, Linda Lee Danvers was her secret identity, they wouldn't be meeting Supergirl, at least not yet.

The perks of being the boyfriend of Supergirl? It's the flights around anywhere and back to their shared home, the feeling of being safe around her, her warming hugs and jolly attitude that brightens up anyone's day. She'd be the one to say something without ever being afraid, once standing up for Y/N against his ex girlfriend who tried to get him sacked from his job, being both Linda and Supergirl to her advantage against his ex, ultimately being successful in defending him.

She's even saved him from a few encounters from bad folk along the way, ever since Linda entered Y/N's life and found out she was Supergirl all along, his life had changed for the better in a way.

But when it comes to it's downsides of dating the Maiden of Might?

There are times she comes back from work either marked with little bruises or cuts at times, let alone her suit being a little torn in certain types of battles, it was a good thing Y/N knew how to sew alongside Kara, the two were great pairs.

Times where she couldn't make it in time for lunch or dinner, either because she was out in deep space, fighting alongside her allies or on her own to deal with matters in her own hands, but Y/N didn't care if she was late or not, as long as she returned to him, it's all that mattered to him, he knew what he was getting himself into when he began dating Kara.

And also... Her vulnerability to Kryptonite, a rock that radiates a radiation that can be deadly or have different effects depending on the color to Kryptonians, especially Kara Zor-El herself. Y/N hadn't known much about it until he saw the green rock he had found laying on the ground begin to make her feel all woozy, dizzy and nauseous during her heroic efforts to stop a rampaging robotic monstrosity in Central Park, it was stated that the monstrosity was powered by green Kryptonite as its power source.

But a new vulnerability had been added to her list of weaknesses... You.

She didn't know why, but the fact was that Y/N made her feel so vulnerable to touch, like all of her strength had been eased in a way, sometimes she felt like her body was on fire typically speaking when she'd feel his touch in certain areas of her body.

It all had built up to the point she couldn't take it anymore, deciding to take it a step further and give herself to him, the two done the deed first in the sky at her request, with her keeping him up with her, before they finished in the bedroom after what seemed to be two hours of love-making... And the two may have broke a sofa during that period of time.

It had been a few weeks since those events, Y/N was currently coming home from work, while Supergirl had arrived back home after a strange encounter while fighting alongside her allies on a mission.

A strange form of Kryptonite that was the color of a periwinkle blue and violet had been found and Kara was exposed to it, upon taking down the threat, she was requested to be checked up upon and whatever the scans showed, it didn't really do much at all to her body, she didn't feel weak or nauseous, she did feel... A little different however after she opted to return home.

And it soon began to show as she was flying back home to New York, the thought of Y/N in her head with dirty thoughts came to mind, she didn't know where they came from, but she began to suddenly feel that way about him, feeling all flustered, bothered and hot even.

Upon returning, she couldn't keep the thoughts contained and immediately went to her shared wardrobe with her boyfriend, and pulled out a spare, unused suit she hasn't even used before, but she only kept it for a "special" occasion, it reminded her of her old blouse outfit, only that it was more revealing than the original. The family House of El crest on the right hand side of her right breast.

Her super hearing kicked in once she heard her boyfriend's voice. "Yeah! Cheers for the lift, mate! See you next week!" he called out to the driver, a work friend of his. He had arrived home earlier than he's supposed to be.

What she didn't know was that her ally, Batgirl aka Barbara Gordon had texted Y/N that Kara was exposed to a new form of Kryptonite earlier before she began flying back to their home, which had made Y/N worried and called to get an early leave, coming up with an excuse that "my girlfriend's fallen ill and has no one to help her", his boss fortunately took the excuse and allowed him go home, being picked up by his work friend who drove him home after.

She quickly put on the short cape that was with her outfit, adjusted the hot pants and boots with heels before she quickly looked at herself in a mirror, whatever her actions were now? It could be the periwinkle Kryptonite causing her to do this, and she knew this, she hadn't felt this hot and bothered like this before. 

Her super hearing kicked in again, now overhearing her boyfriend rush up the stairs in quick effort.

"Perfect!" Kara said with a smile on her face, striking a hands to hips pose before driving one of her hands up her bare legs. Turning around to see the back of herself, eyes falling on the yellow S on her cape and then the hot pants where she shook her ass for a second "Now, time to surprise my boyfriend!".

She walked toward and stood just around the corner as soon as she heard the door opening after a minute, in came her boyfriend who closed the door behind him after placing down his bag onto the ground. Kara may work as an on and off actress, Y/N worked as an electrical engineer full-time, only working from Mondays to Thursdays every week.

"Babe! You okay?! Babs messaged about what happened" he called out, worried about her which warmed her heart.

"Oh, I'm okay" she walked past the corner, revealing herself before striking a pose, flicking her cape and hair the next. She watched as her boyfriend's eyes widen after he blinked, his jaw beginning to drop at the sight of his girlfriend in a new-ish suit, one she hadn't used yet...

Until now...

"Hey gorgeous, I've been waiting for you ~" she gave out a flirtatious smirk toward her beloved, who was trying to catch his breath at the unexpected surprise waiting for him through the door.

For a moment, he thought Babs was pulling a prank on him by telling him Kara was affected by the new form of Kryptonite she was exposed to earlier, but there was the note of unidentified effects that Barbara had told him, telling him to be cautious and message back if anything happens, she'd be on her way to give Kara a dose to rid of the effects if it's bad.

"Uh... I-I... Wow" he wasn't sure what to say, a moment to soon, she had already gotten close to him by using super speed, a gentle whoosh blew his hair back as a devious smirk still played across the girl's face.

"You like what you see, baby? ~" she asked him, placing her hands on her breasts half covered by her opened blouse, rubbing and massaging them as Y/N felt himself began to heat up at the sight of his girlfriend in this new-ish look. "I had it sitting around, just for you ~" she teased him by removing the blue fabric for just a moment to show off the rest of her tits, giving him a little wink after before covering them again.

He still wasn't sure what to say, he was worried of course, Kara hadn't acted like this before, usually she'd be cuddly and give him a gentle peck on the cheek and lips, asking about his day at work. "Uh... I, *nervous chuckle*, I'm not even sure what to say. But you were exposed to -"

"Sshh, I know" she placed a finger on his lips, shushing him. "And I feel so fucking good right now" she said with a flirtatious tone, driving her body close to his, licking and kissing his neck right on after while keeping her arms around him. "And I'm so fucking horny for you as well, you're mine, all mine ~♡" she growled, pulling her mouth away from his neck to speak before going back in, giving him a hicky to mark him as hers.

"Ohhh, Kara" her real name spilled out of his mouth as she continued kissing and licking his neck. It was then that Supergirl decided to remove Y/N's work hoodie. He had never seen this side of the blonde superhero before, perhaps the "periwinkle Kryptonite" was making her act like this.

The Girl of Steel then levitated off the ground, carrying Y/N with her before flying him slowly to the door, where he collided his back toward the freshly painted door that had been done a few days ago, the feeling of Kara's lips on his neck began to make him feel flustered as he drove his hand through her golden locks, whereas his other hand was on the back end of Kara's small cape, feeling himself afloat by Kara's strength alone, she was up to his eye level at least.

"Oh, Kara! *effort* Babs mentioned I had to tell her about - *satisfied groan* - the effects on you" he made a shot in the dark, whilst Kara was getting a little rough on his neck, beginning to gently bite it, sealing it with little kisses and a lick before she pulled away to look at him in the eyes.

The look of hunger dawned within her sky blue irises, the pair of eyes that Y/N fell in love with before hand, she bit her lip before drawing herself closer to his lips.

"Later" she told him. "But right now... I'm so fucking hot and bothered, that I want, no, I need you" she growled with a flirtatious tone to her words, before smashing her lips against his to make out with him. "And I'm keeping this on" she mumbled into his lips.

All he could do was accept the fact Kara has complete control over the situation right now, and for one? He could care less, it was rather a stressful day at work today, Y/N sure needs this right now, 'perhaps this form of Kryptonite isn't as bad as I thought it'd be on her after all, still I should be cautious'.

Soon he began making out with her too, accepting his fate and obeying his girlfriend, his hands exploring her body before he drove them down to her bare thighs, moans escaped him and Kara as they continued making out, fighting for dominance with their tongues next.

Her one hand drove down into the pants of her boyfriend, beginning to explore the bump that had began to poke her since pinning him to the door of their shared apartment room, she dreamt one day they could get a house together, perhaps in Chicago or nearby New York, just when the time is right of course, and perhaps get married with him as she always wanted to happen one day, settle down, have a kid or two, live a normal life with her career as Supergirl still going maybe.

But right now? She wants him all to herself, she can't shake the feeling of him out of her mind, not since being exposed to the periwinkle Kryptonite earlier. She hears his satisfied groans of pleasure as she ran circles in his pants, tugging his cock.

A big smirk played across her face as she pulled back to give him some air after making out with him in that given time, still holding up afloat against the door, she takes out her hand from his pants to start removing them from his body, Y/N took this opportunity to kick off his shoes while looking his gorgeous girlfriend in the eyes.

He didn't even need to say that he loved him, the both could say it within their own eyes, Kara was hungry for him, too hungry someone would say but to Y/N? He played along with her antics whether they were her own actions mentally or not.

Supergirl bit her lip down hard as his cock was now out, free from his pants and underwear as they dropped down to the ground, right in front of the door, a smirk still playing across her face as she began to stroke it, tease it even, wanting to hear his moans and groans that turns her on more and more.

"Ah, Kara" his hands went around her back, the soft fabric of her cape resting against his hands as he explored the other bits of fabric that was her blouse. It was then that the Girl of Steel shut up his little moans with a kiss that turned into another make out session, still he moaned within her lips as their tongues danced together.

Her actions wanted to warm up his cock first, before she could get the full thing inserted within her clit, the thought made her all wet and horny just thinking about it. She didn't want to get pregnant, not yet but she wanted all his juices inside her, she took precautions to make sure she doesn't get pregnant by taking a pill that could work on her unlike the other pills provided by human doctors. Thank Kryptonian technology for that.

Y/N had never been one to be dominated before, but with Supergirl pinning him to the wall, making him unable to move and obeying her command? He had to admit that it was hot, being dominated by the Maiden of Might was a thought he never thought would happen. Kara was a mature, confident woman who wasn't afraid to flaunt her sexuality if necessary, but only some people have seen her more optimistic and cheerful side, and Y/N was one of those people, most of her friends have seen that side of her too.

He was lucky to have a woman like her, one that wasn't afraid to defend him, shield him even from any harm, thought at times she also risked her secret identity in doing so, she only did it in the name of love and protection for him.

Kara's hand stroked up and down on his cock, the skin pulling back from the tip as she drew her eyes toward his cock with a smirk after pulling back from his lips to give him a breather, a playful grin played across her lips as her eyes drew up to his.

"You like that? Don't you baby? ~" she said with a flirtatious tone in her voice still, stroking his cock up and down, up and down, picking up with speed over time, she last used her super speed to make him cum the last time they made sexual contact, that was their first time. This time, she wanted to tease his cock, warming it up for her to take in the full thing inside her pussy, she yearned for it. "You like it when I stroke your cock? Up and down, over and over, warming it up for the full course".

He nodded his head in a quick motion, notifying her that he was enjoying the hand job she was giving him. "Mhmmm Kara ~" he moaned out, Kara felt his cock in her warm hand begin to pulsate, which was more than ready for her to take in the full thing now.

An excited smile went across her face, getting all giddy about it. She then took him off the door and flew him toward the bedroom, whilst making out with him in the meantime, stroking his cock slowly as she flew toward their shared king-sized bed through memory alone, she managed to not fly into things like last time.

Soon enough, she dropped her boyfriend on the gentle and soft covers, prompting him to remove his shirt that he still had on his body. Supergirl bit her lip upon seeing his body, though she could literally use her x-ray vision to see his toned body and tight 4-pack abs herself, it drove her mad seeing them while a blush appeared on her cheeks as she smiled excitedly.

The Girl of Steel took off her red hot pants with a slow motion, giving Y/N a little show before throwing them to the side, then removing her panties before again throwing them to the side.

It was a good thing she had a smaller cape with this outfit, Y/N could see the perfect ass of his hot superhero girlfriend, she bent over to shake her ass in the air toward him, giving him a little show as a smile went across his face before she give him a little dance, pushing most of her hair to one side along with the dance.

"God, you're hot as fuck" he mumbled out toward her, making her smirk further with a flirtatious look in her expression upon turning around, facing her boyfriend as she levitated over the bed.

"Lie down" she demanded. Looking down at him with authority.

"Yes ma'am" Y/N did as he was told. His cock pointing right up toward her, giving her the nod to float down onto it.

She moved her legs out of the way in a certain position, kicking up her legs as she began to slowly float on down onto him, gently and slowly sitting onto his cock that was sliding inside of Kara's perfectly shaved pussy.

"Oh good golly, yes! ~" she moaned out with a satisfied tone, his cock slid perfectly in her as she began to ride him, moaning through her closed lips, clenching her jaw as Y/N let out a little moan upon her riding him like a cowgirl.

Kara rocked her head back, moans of pleasure escaping from her throat as her mouth began to open in ecstasy as she bounced on his cock up and down, up and down, over and over again with a slow motion, slamming down on him gently.

Y/N kept up with her bounces, pushing himself up as she bounced down on him gently, her head hung low as a hungry look appeared on her face, filled with a lust for his love making. Her eyes caught onto Y/N's as he groaned in pleasure with a little smile across his face.

"Mmm, fuck ~" he moaned out, Kara slamming down on him continuously as blushes appeared on their faces, their moans and groans lapped with each other as the bed began creaking from the Girl of Steel's efforts on riding his cock and her walls getting tighter each bounce.

Kara's short cape billowed behind her as she bounced up and down on his cock, her bounces getting faster each minute as her moans got louder, rocking her head back again with her mouth agape once more.

Y/N's hands soon began to drive up Kara's thighs before resting near her hips, noticing Kara looking back down at him with a lustrous look upon her face as a hungry smile was at the corner of her lips, driven crazy by his cock inside of her as she bounced up and down more roughly, surprisingly not breaking his femur from the way she bounced on him.

Her hands soon drove up to her breasts, pushing away the blue fabric that covered half of her breasts to begin with, showing her boyfriend her tits once again, now freed from the opened blouse, the entire outfit overall made her made her look extremely more attractive than she already was before. 

It was funny... He admitted to having both a crush on Supergirl and Linda at the same time, before he found out both were pretty much the same person months ago before they became boyfriend and girlfriend after a few dates.

"Ohhhh Y/N! ~" Kara moaned loudly after five minutes, her ass bouncing off Y/N's thighs as she squatted on Y/N's cock, with her walls getting tighter still around his manhood. "Ohhh, fuuuck, this feels so fucking good~!" she said aloud after a minute, she couldn't care if any neighbors could hear her moans of pleasure, she wanted his juices up inside her, she also wanted to cum so badly.  

Minutes had passed, with Y/N's cock beginning to pulsate within Kara's walls, giving her the notification that he was soon about to finish inside her, while his hands driving up to Kara's tits, massaging them thoroughly. Their moans lapping over each other.

"Fuuck, I'm gonna ~" he said through gritted teeth.

"Let's do it together! ~" she suggested with a loud moan.

Within a minute, Y/N pushed himself upwards as Kara did a few more bounces, moans and groans lapped over each other once again, with her moaning his name loudly while she orgasmed, she felt herself finish and his warm juices shoot up into her pussy.

One final groan escaped Y/N as he continued his orgasm, a sigh of satisfaction soon following upon finishing his orgasm inside of his girlfriend.

Soon enough, Kara crashed down on top of him, her tits and body laying atop of his toned body, his hand driving through Kara's golden locks before the two locked lips together for a deep, passionate kiss, his cock still within her pussy.

"Wow *deep breath*, that felt so good" Kara mumbled out with a satisfied breath, panting just a little while she heard his heartbeat racing. "That Kryptonite sure made me feel that way" she noted to herself loudly before pushing herself up from him, using her hands to stabilize herself atop her boyfriend.

A smile drew across his face with satisfaction, still panting from the love-making. "Hi" he greeted upon seeing her brightened up face.

A huge grin appeared on her lips, looking down at him with love on her mind. "Hi!" she greeted back before smashing her lips against his for another deep kiss, that lasted for just a minute before the blonde pulled back to let him breath, her golden hair tickling his torso right after.

"Do me a favor, Y/N, if you don't mind?".

"Yeah? Anything for you, princess" he smiled.

"Don't tell Babs about this? The uh... Effects that weird Kryptonite had on me" she pleaded, going as far to give him pleading eyes. "Let's keep this between us, yeah?".

"Of course" he said without hesitation, before grabbing her hips. "Round two?" he then suggested with a smirk across his face, ready for more. "Work was stressful today after all, and keep that on, you look fucking hot with that on".

A grin appeared on her face, smashing her lips against his again for the third time in a row, making out with him which was her answer to continue their love making...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 4057

[jywllkr]

JAY RAMBLES. SPOILERS BELOW.

I swear I feel like we're not only going to explore more about Jay's character, but also his elemental power. We still don't even know why he hid his lightning power from the administration in the first place. And being delulu myself, I just hope it's something big for the plot

Note that he also escaped from there with little explanation

All he said was that Ras saved him. From what exactly? Why? It was confirmed that he didn’t like the job, but for him to literally run off and caused a ruckus for the administration just because of that seems a tad much. He could’ve run a long time ago anyway

And based on what we’ve seen so far, despite how he seemed to slack off while working there—he clearly showed that he was good at his job. He followed the rules, took the lead, remembered details about what he did there, etc

He was the head of the department. That’s a huge title, especially for someone who woke up lost and amnesiac

So all in all, Jay is basically a walking source of information right now. Who knows if it’s something big or not—but he clearly knows a lot of things that not many people know (Ras a good example)

Btw. I love how every time Jay appears, there are no answers but more questions. Do you think what happened in the administration, the part where the records were taken offline, has the exact same reason as how he was able to play his favorite old game remotely?

I refuse to believe there aren’t layers to this scene. It’s either connected to his elemental power, his tech knowledge, or maybe both

Lastly. Do you guys also think Jay was the one who sent the robots to attack people during the tournament? Considering the fact that he’s back to inventing stuff and the fact that he would straight up kill people without hesitation???

Aight that's it. Sorry if my English is a bit messy and all over the place. I just wanna let these out :)))

///////////////

There’s another thing I want to talk about—Jay’s biological mother and the Walkers. I swear Doc Wyatt has mentioned it like three times already (I think). He also said that Jay’s going to get his own flashback sequence. which is exciting

I don’t knowww, I hope I’m not spreading misinformation here but I swear I saw it lol

But since I’m not entirely sure myself, I’ll just leave this here as something to talk about later

[yndrgrl]

yandere! bakugou uses you to get to someone else, but ends up falling for you instead

long ass fic. fem! reader. regular! au. enemies to lovers. lowkey crack! fic. tsundere! bakugou.

warnings: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, somnaphilia (idk how to spell it), degrading, bullying, spitting, public sex, hatefuck

a/n: requests are open :) (plz request something, idk what else to write about 😭)

---

"no." that's all you said. so flat, so robotic. that's all you wanted to say.

bakugou was a pushy man, however. "it wasn't a question."

"oh for real?" you gasped, putting both hands to your cheeks to show your faux shock. "no."

"listen, you're gonna help me win over uraraka-"

"no, i'm not, bakugou," you denied once more. you don't even know why he came to you in the first place. it was clear as day that uraraka had a major crush on izuku, & izuku liked uraraka just as much.

honestly, what surprised you the most is that bakugou even had a crush. i guess it makes sense that it would be on uraraka though.

"yes, you are because i have something over you," bakugou threatened lowly.

you scoffed, "oh, do you now?" there wasn't really much he could have over you that would make you help him-

he slammed a journal on the desk, a slam echoing throughout the library. it was your personal diary.

you lunged for your journal, but he snatched it & threw it into his bag. you screamed at him, "how'd you get that, you sicko?!" the only way he would've gotten that was by breaking into your dorm room.

"are you going to help me or not?"

yes, you could've bought a nicer, leather journal with handcrafted pieces of paper, glued recent pictures of your life & decorated the pages with washi tape, stickers, & colored markers, but you didn't want to start over yet. your journal is a year & a half old, every page nearly filled; it's a deep dive into your mind. every overwhelming event in your life, every good memory, every goal you strive to achieve is written down in that book. bakugou katsuki had that all in his possession.

that's why, two days after you found out what he has, you're sitting with your usual study group in your designated, outdoor study area-- plus bakugou. your bluetooth speaker played a playlist shared throughout the group. you sat on the edge with uraraka beside you & bakugou across from you.

"y/n," someone said, catching your attention; it was uraraka. "i didn't know you & bakugou were friends."

you wanted to laugh. you quickly told her, "we're not-"

"we're good friends," katsuki overlapped with his lie. his scowl upturned into the smallest smile when uraraka glanced up at him.

"oh wow, i had no idea! the two of you are so hard-headed, i wouldn't have expected the two of you to get along so great," she said back with a giggle. you loved uraraka, but she's too friendly sometimes.

bakugou, trying to play into the cool-bad-boy character, said, "yeah, well she makes it hard sometimes, but it helps when she has cute friends, i guess."

never in your life did you think you would hear big, tough bakugou flirt in your life.

they continued their conversation that you tuned out, rereading your notes & constructing plans on how to get your journal so you could expose him. everyone was invested in their own stuff. obviously, bakugou & uraraka were talking amongst themselves. momo was explaining to jirou & mina some math topic that they were sobbing about. tsu was on her laptop as she tried finishing a power point that was due the next day.

your chin was propped up by your hand, humming the song that started playing. "um, excuse me," a masculine voice called out. it caught the attention everyone at the table. you heard bakugou scoff, & you could only assume he rolled his eyes.

you looked up at the source of the voice. he was right in front of you, face red, cheeky smile. he was cute in the way that a puppy eager for a treat was. "you're y/n, right?"

"yeah, i am," you confirmed, matching his grin.

he introduced himself by saying his name & told you that he was in the hero-support program. he then said, "i just wanted to say that you're just really pretty."

compliments were one thing. compliments from complete strangers always messed you up though. "oh, th-thanks." you're so awkward.

"so like, maybe i could get your number, & we could go on a date or two?"

you glanced back at all your friends, who all had big smiles as a way of non-verbally saying, "get your manz, bitch!!"

bakugou on the other hand, had an expression of confusion & anger-- the anger was permanent though.

"i mean, i don't give out my phone number, but maybe we can snap or something?"

the guy nodded with enthusiasm, pulling out his phone to give you his username. "cool, well sorry for wasting your guys' time," the boy said to you friends before turning to you & saying, "i'll hit you up later?"

"can't wait," you replied back.

as soon as he was out of earshot, mina squealed, "oh my god! you're such a flirt!"

jirou teased, "you're so awkward, it's literally so funny."

"you're my pretty best friend," tsu croaked with a laugh.

"guys, nothing is gonna happen," you said with a blush. "i'm just gonna be his friend."

"how does it feel to be hit on for the first time, loser?" bakugou yawned, as if he's been hit on ten million times by fan girls & milfs or something.

mina retaliated, "what are you talking about? y/n gets hit on all the time!"

uraraka jumped in, "yeah, what's was that? guy number five?"

"y/n?" bakugou questioned, & all your friends nodded. "that thing? doubt it."

"what's there to doubt? you just saw it," you growled at him, he annoyed you so badly.

after that study session, he got uraraka's number like he hoped for, but he was more curious about you. he never realized until that day how often you do actually get men's attention. bakugou always assumed you were some bookworm, writer nerd who leeched off of his darling, uraraka for popularity & personality.

"i don't get it," bakugou muttered, staring at your figure across the cafeteria. he was surrounded by his friends, who all followed his gaze.

kirishima groaned, "dude, just ask uraraka out already." it was routine that bakugou would say something about how shitty nerd, deku, isn't good enough for her affections or how he would be a better match for her.

"no, it's not that," bakugou corrected, glare not breaking off of you. this caught kirishima, denki, sero, & mina -who sometimes sat with you as well- off guard.

"what are you talking about, bro," denki asked.

"i don't get it. she's not even that cute," bakugou scoffed, slouching back into the bench. his eyes finally tore away from you & awase from class 1-b.

"who?"

"y/n, i think," mina assumed, & when bakugou didn't deny it, they all knew she was right. "why does it even bother you?"

"it doesn't," he said, glancing back at you. awase left you, & in his place was the floating, fighting machine uraraka. he didn't feel the need to say anything about her though, but he felt like he had to. "she's weird, uraraka shouldn't even be friends with her."

"there it is," sero sighed, making all the others laugh.

"shut up," bakugou scowled at them. everyone was used to it, so they weren't that threatened.

"but seriously, bakubro, don't hate on y/n just cuz she's best friends with uraraka, & you're jealous," kirishima told him. he always did this to the blonde. he wasn't scared to tell him off.

bakugou, infuriated, yelled, "i'm not jealous of her, okay? it's just stupid how she has everyone wrapped around her finger, so don't be some dumb, y/n defenders. hop off her fuckin' dick."

"i'm just saying, man. she's super cool, has a useful quirk, & is an awesome fighter," kirishima said, holding his hands as a way to show he was backing down.

"if i were you, bakugou, i would be trying to be her friend," mina said.

mina's words played on repeat in bakugou's head for a week. it was driving him crazy. even though that bridge of being friends was already burned & he kept telling himself he doesn't care, he can't help but want to be closer to you.

he said it was all for uraraka in the end. after all, when they were texting the other day, she said that she would want a future partner to get along with her friends or else it'll be a deal breaker.

bakugou deduced that if he was on favorable terms with you that uraraka would fall for him-- & maybe you too. he felt himself physically jolt when he thought that. why in fucks name would he want you to fall for him? he thought for a second. it's not like he wants to be with you or anything, but he doesn't want you with anyone else.

he somehow found himself in front of your dorm door past curfew. bakugou, at this time, was usually asleep, dreaming about a life where him & uraraka lived happily ever after. however, tonight was different. he didn't feel like thinking about the short-haired brunette.

he doesn't even know why he's outside your door.

in his head, he rationalized that he just loves uraraka so much that he'd give up sleep to become your friend. it was such an urgent situation that he didn't even bother putting on shirt.

he fished in his sweatpants' pocket for a lock pick, the same one he used to break into your dorm the first time to steal your journal. bakugou jammed it into the lock, opening the door with ease. he shut the door carefully before stalking further into your room.

there you were on your bed. swaddled in your fluffy duvet, cuddling a stuffed animal. you must've felt his presence because your sleeping self started shifting & ended up kicking off your blanket. you ended up on your stomach, one leg crunched towards your side while the bottom leg laid straight. you faced away from bakugou.

his breath hitched, something inside him twitched. bakugou couldn't help but stare. he had to admit that you had the body of his dream girl. wait no, his dream girl was uraraka-

he cut his own thoughts off when he saw how your ass looked in that position. the blue hue from the moonlight flowed into the room because, for some reason, you felt no need to close your curtains. he could make the shape of you so clearly. he reached for you.

he told himself that he wouldn't be cheating on his soon-to-be lover. it's just a touch, a friendly touch that friends share with each other.

his fingertips ghosted over your exposed thighs. you were wearing nothing but thong & an oversized band tee. the gentle touches turned into full-palm caresses. her skin is so smooth, bakugou thought. he loomed closer to you, inhaling deeply. she smells so nice.

he climbed over you with the agility of a shadow. the bed didn't even creak. he kneeled over legs, & his hands found your plush ass. he kneaded your bare butt, shifting you so you were fully on your stomach. you remained unmoving; you usually take melatonin gummies right before bed anyways.

bakugou kept groping your ass while his cock hardened into its full length. his hands wandered, thumbs grazing over your entrance. he grasped you, & he spread your ass cheeks apart. you must be dreaming about something dirty because your thong was soaked.

bakugou readjusted himself so he was on level with your ass. "this is just what friends do," he hazily whispered to himself. "friends help friends get better."

he blew on the wet patch, watching your pussy twitch through your panties. bakugou waited for a second, trying to grasp at any sort of self-control but, when you subconsciously propped your ass higher for him, he couldn't help it. he mentally apologized to uraraka before he dove into your ass.

his tongue licked your clothed slit, & he felt how thin your thong truly was. he only got an inkling of what you tasted like, & he craved more. bakugou lapped you juices through your panties, dampening the light grey cloth into a darker shade. his jaw hinged open to allow his tongue to delve further down.

he found your clit through your thong. he pressed his tongue against you, & sleeping, unsuspecting you let out a moan. "oh fuck," bakugou whispered in response, diving back into your pussy.

he pulled your thong up. it rode higher in your ass, then the part the was covering your pussy disappeared between your lips.

he started eating you out again, groaning in pleasure when he finally got to touch your bare skin. he slurped your juices over & over.

bakugou didn't realize that he pulled his sweatpants & boxers down to his knees. he pulled away from your pussy, a string of your juices & his saliva connecting him to you.

on his knees, he positioned his big cock between your ass. a moment of clarity hit him, it wasn't right, he knew that deep down. you really didn't do anything to him.

your phone next to your pillow buzzed. he grabbed it, his hung cock still pressed against you. it was a message from uraraka that read, "wait what did you wanna tell me about bakugou earlier? you looked so concerned haha."

you were trying to tell him? what a fucking bitch, bakugou thought with pure hatred. you were trying to sabotage him with your words, your pretty little mouth, with your dumb, stupid body.

his rationality was once again thrown out of the door. uraraka would want me to show y/n her place, he thought. he climbed off of you. he had to show you what your mouth was meant for. your mouth wasn't meant for snitching, it was meant for sucking cock-- his cock.

bakugou turned your head & pulled it at the edge of the bed. thankfully, it's like your body already knew what was gonna happen, your mouth was already agape. he pushed his tip past your lips. your tongue lazily stroked against his length. he moved his dick in & out of your throat, & yet somehow you still remained motionless.

his control turned into animalistic thrusts, gagging you over & over, & you still stayed asleep. "fuckin' stupid bitch," he groaned, throwing his head back. your throat expanded with each thrust to accommodate his thickness & length.

spit & his precum spilled out of your mouth & onto your silk pillowcase. because you were sideways, his heavy balls slapped against your face, nose shoved into his pubes. you gargled & gagged in your sleep, but you still handled him so well.

his passionate angry finally swelled up & shot down your throat. even though he was cumming, he kept half-assed thrusting in your throat, coating every inch with white. all for uraraka, remember? because bakugou completely forgot what drove him to do what he just did.

the next day, as you entered the classroom, he heard you tell to uraraka about how the melatonin gummies really worked. "yeah, i was completely knocked out! i drooled so much, my pillow was drenched. it was disgusting."

"really? i know that they're good, but i never drooled that much. maybe you really needed that sleep."

as they passed bakugou's seat, uraraka waved at him with pink cheeks. "hey, bakugou."

"uraraka," he said back to her. he watched your smile drop into a frown, your eyes rolling. he was winning over uraraka, he knew that, but he didn't feel satisfied. he yearned the banter between the two of you more than uraraka's affections. "what was that, idiot?"

uraraka was shocked at first, thinking he was talking to her until she heard you shoot back, "shouldn't you be watching ochaco instead of me?" if he didn't know any better, it sounded like you were jealous.

"y/n, let's calm down," uraraka sheepishly suggested, but it only angered you more. why was she on that weirdo's side? why wasn't she on your side? even after you told her what he did to you, she didn't even care; in fact, she seemed flattered.

"yeah, calm down," bakugou chimed in with that disgusting, cocky smile, "go in the back & drool all over your desk."

"eavesdropping now? you really are obsessed," you huffed, marching towards your desk that was, in fact, in the back of the classroom. you thought uraraka was right behind you, but by the time you turned around to sit in your chair, you noticed her take a seat next to bakugou.

the bell rang, & in rolled your sleepy teacher, mr. aizawa. he called roll, held an hour long lecture while you took notes, then assigned a 4-page essay with three sites sources. after he was done, he questioned, "now that we're done with that, what is happening today?"

iida's hand shot up along with his entire body.

"go ahead, iida."

"the 1a students from ketsubutsu academy are training with us today." oh right, you completely forgot about that. you were not in the mood to socialize with those uptight, cocky rich kids today. even though you took the melatonin gummies the night before to ensure a goods night sleep, you got everything but that. you felt like you were melting all night, & now you just felt restless.

"good, iida is correct," mr. aizawa confirmed. "they're already waiting in training facility a, so get dressed & be there in 10 minutes."

"yes sir!" & they all scurried out of the classroom.

your entire class entered the facility in their hero costumes. like mr. aizawa said, the visiting students were already there, stretching & warming up. mr. aizawa, once he noticed his entire class, announced that on the white board was everyone's names & assigned training group for the day.

everyone, including the other class, crowded around the board to find their names. "y/n!" your best friend, who you were extremely pissed off at, cheered. "we're all in the same group!" we... all?

you look at uraraka to see who she was referring to. "it's just my luck," you groaned, of course it was bakugou. "i just had to be put in a group with you!" you wanted to shout at everyone. you wanted to shout at uraraka for being swooned by a creep, you wanted to yell at mr. aizawa for putting you in a group with bakugou, & you wanted to scream, jump, yell, & hit bakugou over the head with a bat just for being the aggravating, prideful bastard he is.

"we just had to have a weak fuckin' nerd in your group?" he said to uraraka, but glanced to his side to meet your eye. your fuming expression really got him going. "there's no one more annoying than you-"

"are you y/n?" someone questioned. that just be the last person in your group.

you looked up at him, & with a half-hearted smile, you said, "i am."

"nice, i'm in your group," he told you, "i'm yo shindo. & i must admit, i was not excited for this whole group training thing until i saw a pretty girl like you was in my group."

oh, so he was a flirt? honestly, you didn't mind at all; you needed something to distract you & what's a better distraction than a buff playboy?

"honestly me too, but i think it'll be fun with you," you said back, but you overthought what you said. was it cringy?

bakugou was watching the whole exchange, brows furrowed, vein popping through his skin on his forehead. uraraka noticed, & because with the new-found knowledge that bakugou really liked her, she stroked his arm & asked, "are you okay?"

he looked at her with the same look of anger, now mixed with discomfort, & shrugged her off. "yeah, i'm fine."

he turned his attention back to you & shindo. bakugou's hands sparked ever so suddenly when he took in the scene in front of him. you were eating up all of shindo's praises & brags. your hands tried to squeeze around his biceps but you just couldn't connect your hands. "wow, your muscles are so big~ you must be strong."

"of course i am, i gotta be so i can impress pretty girls like you after all," he winked at you. for a moment, you glanced at bakugou, feeling his harsh glare, & he looked like he was about to explode. you didn't know why though, doesn't he have what he wanted already? he has uraraka right there, & yet he's still mad at you. he still owes you your journal too, so the two of you were not on good terms.

"sorry, i didn't mean to get carried away," you told shindo, pulling your hands away.

as the two of you walked towards uraraka & bakugou, shindo said, "i don't mind, you can touch me wherever, whenever."

you couldn't help but laugh out loud. "god, you're such a flirt!"

"you seem to love it though-"

"y/n, would you stop being a hoe for one second & train like you're supposed to?" bakugou said to you, hands stuffed inside his pockets, looking so nonchalant. you blinked a moment, & you waited for uraraka to say something or to rush by your side. she didn't do any of that

all she said was, with a giggle & eyes staring at bakugou, "that was mean." yeah, it was. it really was. the tips of your ears burned in humiliation, your palms became sweaty, & your breathing was uneven. after uraraka was done ogling bakugou, she looked at you, & her eyes widened. never in her entire childhood friendship did she see that expression on your face.

"dude, i don't know who think you are, but don't talk to her like that," shindo said, stepping forward & slightly in front of you. your tense shoulders relaxed just a bit-- someone is in your corner.

the amused bakugou turned pissed off when your new, little boy-toy went to your rescue, even though he knew you didn't need rescuing. "h-hey, let's save it for training, yeah-"

"i'll talk to y/n however i want, damn weak fuck," bakugou replied, copying his movements & stepping forward. "you're just like her: fucks anything that moves, huh?"

"bakugou-"

"that's it!" you shouted as you shoved bakugou away from shindo. the three of them -bakugou, uraraka, & shindo- were shocked to say the least. he pushed you too far all for entertainment & some obsession. "you're such a goddamn coward, you know that? all you are is a bully who's play-pretending to be a hero! you're such a control freak that, even after you stole my best friend, you still need to have something over me, so you won't give me back my stupid journal. & worst of all, you just stare & glare & act like i'm scum when you're the actual piece of shit! & you're not even ashamed! you want everyone to know! i hate you so much!"

after your tangent/rant, you walked away, quirk firing left & right. you didn't need to hear whatever bakugou was going to say next, it was probably be something so degrading that winds up in her next journal entry.

the three of the gawked at you, watching you walk straight to the state-of-the-art punching bags. uraraka was the first to speak. "i'll talk to her. i've never seen her that... mad. it was like she was a whole new person-"

"you guys are terrible classmates. there was no reason to say any of that. i'll go talk with her," shindo cut uraraka off. before either of them could do anything, bakugou was already strutting towards you, gauntlets sparking.

"who does she think she is?" they heard him utter. they were out of earshot, however, when he said, "making me fuckin' hard then walking away. damn tease."

he caught up to you in no time. you were almost to the punching bags when he grabbed your wrist, his hand was warm & a stinging sensation engulfed your wrist.

uraraka & shindo watched as the two of you screamed at each other, you shoving him, him glaring at you, you throwing a piece of your costume at him. honestly, it would've been comedic if it wasn't for bakugou pressing your buttons.

"what are they? toxic exes or something?" shindo questioned as they began to walk towards the fighting two.

"oh, no, not at all! i would've known," uraraka told him, "they're just... um... friends i think. maybe enemies."

"i can tell that much."

when the actual training began, you & bakugou tried to separate from each other. you were paired with shindo & him with uraraka. but, because of the conditioning & the way today's training was set up, it was inevitable that you two would interact again.

like at lunch, the two of you sat across each other at a table, eating your lunches. you didn't bother speaking, you didn't even want to see bakugou ever again, after all.

or at the water fountain, when he said, "hurry up." & so you took longer, even though you weren't thirsty anymore.

or when you had to rotate partners & bakugou was your only option. the two of you, against the rules, threw quirk-backed attacks each other.

& that's how you two ended up being excused early. while everyone else was getting better, you were locked out & forced to change back into your school uniform, & the only person with you was bakugou.

when you left the changing room, he was leaning against the wall-- almost like he was waiting for you. "you done being mad at me?"

"no, i'm not, & i'll never stop being mad at you," you said, walking right past him. he followed close behind you.

"listen, i didn't mean to embarrass you. i didn't know you'd get so pissy."

"what did you think was gonna happen?!"

"i don't know, okay?" the two of you were yelling at this point.

"you have ochaco, can you please just give me my journal & leave me alone? you two can be happy far, far away from me," you said, cursing yourself for choking up. you mentally prepared for the teasing & "witty" comebacks bakugou had in store.

instead, he asks, "are you jealous?"

"what?"

"are you jealous?"

you scoffed, opening the door to the dorm building. "don't flatter yourself, big guy."

"i'm being serious," he said to you as he leaned on the counter. you were so hungry that you didn't really care bakugou was watching you cook. "because i was."

"what are you getting at, bakugou?" you asked, putting a pot of water on the stove, bringing it to a boil.

"i was so jealous today," he said.

"of what?"

"of damn shindo kid," he responded back. your angered expression contorted into a puzzled one as you looked up at him. when you didn't reply, he continued, "if i knew stupid one liners got your attention, i would've been doing that sooner."

you couldn't believe what you were hearing. the guy who's been making the past few months hell was confessing something you never expected. "what about ochaco, hm? i thought you needed her to breath or something."

"yeah, i guess i liked her at first, & that's why i needed your help," he admitted. he then fished a journal, your journal, out of his bag & stood up. he walked towards you, hand outstretched with your beloved diary in his grasp. you reached out for it when he lifted it above your head with a taunting smirk. "but then i realized that i wanted you this entire time."

--nsfw starts here--

"you're just saying stupid things to get a rise out of me, bakugou," you rolled your eyes at him. you placed a hand on his chest as you jumped for your journal, fingers touching it ever so lightly. it was just out of reach.

you thought you had it, he brought the notebook down. however, you didn't have it. he threw it on the counter behind you, & the hand the was holding it snakes around your waist. his other hand grabbed your face, stroking your cheek as he kissed you.

you don't know why, but you found your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. without breaking your lips apart, he pushed you against the counter, pinning you between his two arms now. his tongue, the tongue that craved you since that unknown night, licked your lips before fighting yours for dominance. his thigh was between your legs. he pressed your core against him, & you moaned.

bakugou shut off the burner during your kiss. he was expecting the two of you to escape into his room, but when you threw off his tie & unbuttoned his shirt eagerly, he knew he needed you right then & there.

the two of you broke your kiss, & he placed his head in the crook of your neck. "you get off on making me jealous, don't you? that's why you were flirting with stupid shindo?"

"wh-whatever, you jerk. you act like you weren't basically grinding on ochaco in front of me all the time?"

bakugou laughed into the nape of your neck. "grinding? all we did was talk."

"same fuckin' thing," you growled in frustration.

"i didn't know you were so jealous of her."

"oh, fuck off, asshole," you said. you were quickly shut up by him biting your sensitive spots all over your neck, sucking & licking to create hickeys.

he took off your tie & ripped open your shirt. he unhooked your bra, throwing it god knows where. "take this fuckin' thing off," he uttered, helping you out of your torn clothes.

"h-hey!"

"shut up, & take it. i'll buy you a new one," he said before fondling your breasts. you bit your lip as your grinded against his meaty thigh. your wetness, even though you had panties on, began staining his slacks.

"bakugou~" you whispered, voice shaking.

"it's katsuki tonight, dummy," he told you, turning you around & bending you over the counter. you brushed your journal out of the way as you pressed you tits onto the cold, granite countertop.

with three fingers, he pinched your pussy through your panties so his middle one snuck in between your lips. "stop being a tease & fuck me already." if only you knew.

"be patient, woman," scowled katsuki, smacking your ass. he set of small sparks when he hit your cheek. "you can't take this cock yet. i'm doing you a goddamn favor."

you doubted him, you really did. he was so cocky & arrogant, how could you not? "i can take your tiny dick any day, don't underestimate me."

katsuki let out a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "you really think so, dumb bitch?" he unclicked his belt, dropping his pants & boxers around his ankles. he started to grind against your ass, & you swore up & down it felt like deja vu.

you gasped as you felt his length between your ass. you've had dreams about cocks that big, sure, but you didn't know they actually existed. "wh-what the fuck?"

"what? still think you take me? still think i'm tiny, sweetheart?" katsuki taunted as he took off your panties. he pressed your thighs around his cock, the base of it stimulating your swollen clit. he thrusted gently; it was so against his brash, aggressive character.

you were not one to back down, so at least you stayed true to your character. "yeah, i can take your skinny ass dick-" you were cut off by katsuki spreading your ass & shoving his girthy length into your throbbing heat. you screamed, tongue hanging out of your mouth as you tried to adjust to him.

he wouldn't let you though. katsuki, once inside your tight pussy, started pounding you. he shoved his cock head into your g-spot over & over, making you quiver & pulsate around him. "sl-sl-slow d-down!" you begged between thrusts. in response, he pulled your head back with your hair. you arched uncomfortably; your pelvis was still against the edge of the counter, but your head was pulled so far back that you could see katsuki's face.

"you think you're all that? you think you can just flirt with all these other guys in front of me? you fuckin' slut," he spat into your mouth, not that it mattered since it mixed with your drool & fell out of your mouth & onto your cold body. "i own you now. i own this mouth, i own this pussy, i own this ass, i own you."

"f-f-"

"c'mon, pathetic whore. say it."

"fuck y-you, katsuki." oh, you were a brat through & through clearly.

katsuki has had enough of your retaliation. you were supposed to be a brainless bimbo begging for more, yet here you were, surprising him again. any bit of consciousness you had, he was going to fuck out if you.

he, without pulling out, let go of your hair & made you stand up. he grabbed both your legs & hoisted you into this air. his hands found their way behind your head, & you couldn't move. you were nothing more than a cum dumpster to him now. "you know, if anyone walks through that door, they're gonna see you folded in half, tears streaming down your face with my cock balls deep in your dripping pussy, & they'd realize how much of a slut you are, & they'd know that you're all mine."

you didn't mean to, but your pussy clenched around his cock tighter as more of your juices squirted onto the linoleum floor. "oh, you like that, princess?"

you moaned in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he praised you. "aw, how pathetic. you must love when i call you cute nicknames & tell you how good you're doing." with whatever head movement you had, you nodded.

"that's a shame because you've been nothing but dirty, i can't treat you like a good girl until you deserve it."

"p-please! i'll do anything!" you cried out, then you started twitch uncontrollably around him. a white, hot wave of pleasure washed over you as you creamed all over his cock. he wasn't done yet, he still abused your cervix, making you beg for him to stop, or at least slow down.

his thrusts turned rapid as he started to groan about how you were all his, how he wasn't going to let any other man look at you, how he would be the only one you ever think about. you knew that was all true. "y/n, you fuckin' bitch, i hate you & your pretty, little face. take it all," he yelled as he unloaded his load into your tight pussy.

you screamed in overwhelming pleasure, squirting all over him once again. the two of you caught your breaths. he set you down once his cock finally stopped twitched, & he spun you around to embrace you. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i promise i'll be the best boyfriend in the world, just give me a chance. i know we're enemies or whatever, but i don't wanna be that anymore, & i don't want to be whatever this is; just fucking like we hate each other then go our separate ways." you've never seen this side of katsuki before.

"i-i'd like that, i'd like to be your girlfriend."

you hated him. you hated how he made you feel. you hated how he infected your mind, how he ruined you for any other man. you hated how you knew you needed him.