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turtleedovee · 3 years ago

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Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Chapter Two: Some with Traps

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: heyyyyy another update a day later SICK!! i have chapter 3 all locked and loaded too but i’ll update tomorrow or sunday we’ll see! hope you enjoyed the first chapter, short i know, but i’m trying to get to the good stuff. this chapter is also kinda short but bare with me. no warnings except cursing talks about drugs and bickering, lemme know what you think!

taglist:

Snippet:

She clenched her jaw, he used this opportunity to continue, “Look I'll just tell O’Donnell that it’s not gonna work,” and that’s when it hit him, “I mean hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe you’re not as good of a tutor as you thought you were.” He quickly turned around to leave, he could feel the intense glare she was giving him.

And he relished it.

(F/N) quickly got up and made her way to him “Oh you think taunting me is gonna work?” Standing right infront of him, she was fuming, she couldn’t quite comprehend how he managed to figure out how to push her buttons but dammit was he good at it.

“I told you not to be late.” He stopped in his tracks, she never even looked up from whatever she was doing.

Geez did she have eyes in the back or her head?

He scoffed, “Sorry mom. I was busy.”

She hummed, finally looking at him, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her look of disapproval, but in all honesty?

He couldn’t care less of what she thought of him.

“Yeah, busy selling drugs huh?” She mumbled under her breath.

He sat right next to her, the smell of weed evident, “You gotta problem with that sweetheart?”

She finally tore her eyes away from her work, noting how he infiltrated her personal space, “Not at all. But if you’re gonna be stoned while I try to tutor your ass then let me know so I don’t have to waste my time.”

He scoffed, “Who says I’m high? You can’t run a business if you’re using your own supply.”

“Well I can see you’re not failing Econ.” She taunted.

Rolling his eyes he noted what she was working on, “Well as far as I know O’Donnell teaches English Lit, not Math.”

Hastily she closed her notebook, “Well I was trying to pass the time while you were off dicking around.”

This seemed to be the last straw for Eddie, he grabbed his back and got up, “Alright well if we’re just gonna sit here and trade insults there seems to be no real reason for me to be here is there?”

And he relished it.

He smirked, “I don’t know sweetheart, I think it is. Do I have an effect on the Miss. (L/N)?”

“Oh please Munson, don’t think for one second you have any affect on me.”

“Then how come it’s so easy to get you all riled up.” He shot back.

“Maybe because I’ve never met a person whose head is so far up their ass, that they’d rather repeat their senior year for the third time instead of taking the help that they’ve been graciously offered.” She tilted her head and glared at him, noticing the slight shift in his attitude, he crossed his arms over his chest. “So why don’t you just shut up, sit down and get to work.”

She caught her breath, waiting for a snarky remark, but it never came, instead he scoffed and made his way to the table her stuff was at.

He gestured to the empty seat she once occupied and waited for her to join him at the table.

She sighed, walking to the table. They sat in silence for a second.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

————————————

“You’re killing me (L/N).” A blunt voice came from in front of her.

She sighed, “Eddie c’mon it’s not that difficult.”

“Uh, it is if it’s boring!” Eddie countered.

They’d been at this for about an hour.

To say it’s been hell would’ve been an understatement.

Trying to get Eddie Munson to focus on his English assignments without taking a ten minute break every second he could was like Sisyphus’ never ending task.

“Very funny Munson, Shakespeare is anything but boring.”

“Yeah but can you at least admit these poems of his suck?” He threw down the assignment.

“Sonnets.” She corrected.

He let out a dramatic sigh, “Oh even worse!”

She rolled her eyes, “C’mon you’re almost done, just push through, please?”

He whined, knocking his head on the table making now effort to lift it.

Before she could tell him to get back to work she noted her watch

“Shit,” She mumbled, this seemed to call Eddie’s attention as he slightly lifted his head, “I’m gonna be late, we’ll finish this later.” She quickly shoved all of her notes and supplies in her bag and rushed out of the library.

She was out like shot before Eddie could even say his goodbyes.

————————————

A groan escaped her lips.

“What's the matter now?” Robin asked listlessly.

“Do you think someone can die from their own stupidity?” She threw herself on the chair.

“Hm, good question, ask Steve.” Robin nodded to Steve who just came back from storage with the new releases, who gave a puzzled look but before he could respond, the bell cracked through their conversation, the air in the store becoming tense.

“Sup,” Eddie had entered the video store, he stood as if he didn’t have a care in the world carrying his leather jacket and hung it over his shoulder, wearing a white muscle tee that showed off his several tattoos, “so are we doing this now or…”

She sighed, “Yeah yeah, give me a sec, let me grab my stuff.”

(F/N) left, leaving her friends with her charity case.

“So…” Robin started,

“So…” Eddie continued, his eyes landing on Steve, he cracked a smirk, “No way Steve Harrington is working at Family Video. Was he hired out of pity?” Turning his attention to Robin.

“Something like that!”

“Hey–” Steve began to retaliate, but before he could continue (F/N)’s head popped out from the staff room.

“Please, we all know Steve was hired to attract all the ladies.” She joked.

Steve could do nothing but shrug, “Yeah, I mean have you seen this hair.”

“No of course Harrington, I mean where would you be without the hair?” Eddie joked back, he watched as (F/N) made her way back to the front “I mean if The Hair could get hired here who's to say I can’t? All the ladies love me.” He smiled to himself

“Oh is that so?” (F/N) rolled her eyes.

Eddie leaned over the counter and had his eyes trained on her, “Yes it is, actually! But sadly I can’t be tied down.” He put his hands up in defeat.

“Well aren’t those women lucky then.”

“Ah, c’mon, I know you love me and my carefree attitude.” He joked back.

Finally making eye contact with him she looked him up and down, shooting back, “Love is a strong word. How about we start with ‘put up with’?”

He sighed, hanging his head low in defeat, “Fair enough.”

She chuckled, “Alright goodbye people!” She waved goodbye to her friends, who just stared at each other in disbelief, letting the conversation they just witnessed sink in, they watched as she hopped into Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson’s van, and drove off.

Did that really just happen?

here’s chapter one, i’ll fix the link when i get home lol

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #strangerthingsseason4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #enemies to lover #everybody wants to rule the world #everybody wants to rule the world//chapter two

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aggravatetheaxe · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Saw your post and saw you said you were upsettie spaghetti so I wanted to cheer you up!

Slashers who stop everything they’re doing because their “My S/O needs me” senses are tingling and go to their rescue to comfort their angry s/o?

I was hoping to come up with A way for you to get your emotions out through your writing- 😅

Hope you feel better! 🖤

I've never done a post in this style before so hopefully I do okay! I think I covered pretty much all the slashers I write for so far (I didn't do Billy Lenz because I still need to read the novelization). I may have gone way overboard, so if I do these in the future, I'll probably just pick a few instead of doing the whole roster 😅 (or you can pick for me). But doing this much work did distract me!

Above the cut:

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Included below the cut:

Michael Myers (OG)

Jason Voorhees

Leslie Vernon

Thomas Hewitt

Bubba Sawyer

Brahms Heelshire

Erik ("The Phantom")

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC slasher)

Kathleen Montgomery (OC slasher)

Masterlist

***

Bo Sinclair

Despite being autistic, Bo is very in tune with peoples auras and body language. He has to be to manipulate and deceive people with any modicum of success. He's trained himself when it comes to these things; even besides masking or manipulation, he needed to be keenly aware of when his parents were in Bad Moods so he could either avoid them or prepare himself.

The mood he's probably best at when it comes to this, for those reasons, is anger. He can smell anger a mile away. So if you're fuming, you better believe he notices.

At first he's annoyed and will demand to know what your problem is. He's not a very tolerant person, and he can be a bit of a hypocrite. He's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but when it comes to others having big, messy feelings ... he's not so comfortable with that. He gets overwhelmed.

Once he realizes that this is more than an attitude problem, he'll take it much more seriously. And assuming you're not mad at him, he'll want the rundown on the whole situation from beginning to end. He wants all the dirt.

He'll let you rant, and honestly, he'd think you being this angry (when it's not directed at him, but even still sometimes) is kind of sexy. And don't expect him to shut his mouth, either; he'll be ranting right along with you, affirming you and insulting whomever/whatever you're angry about.

He doesn't wanna cuddle. He genuinely thinks you can't cuddle anger away. He'll put on some loud-ass music and let you vent your frustration however you prefer. Maybe suggest a long drive down to the lake or into town or just ... picking a direction and going. He has fantasies of running away from his anger sometimes. He knows how it is.

Depending on what you're angry about, it could definitely get to the point where he's angrier about the situation than you are. And if it really hurt you, he will not let it go as long as he lives. The best he will ever do is maintain a grudging neutrality or distance from the person/situation that made you angry.

He's very protective. If you're angry at someone you need to maintain a relationship with, you're going to have to keep an eye on Bo to make sure he doesn't deliver revenge for you behind your back. If it's something he can solve, he'll do it, so if you don't want him running his mouth, watch him.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is in the same boat as Bo when it comes to sensing auras, though his handle on body language and facial expressions is not as keenly honed. While Vincent was not physically abused as brutally or as often as Bo, this wasn't because of some sterling quality he had that Bo lacked. He was always The Good One because he saw what his parents did to The Bad One and knew he needed to protect himself. He tried not to do anything that might provoke his parents.

You can feel anger before a fight like you smell ozone before a storm. Vincent is attuned to the feeling not just because of his parents but because of Bo's temper, too. Because of this, like Bo, he can very accurately sense anger in particular.

His initial reaction is to observe you, gauging if you need time to cool off. If you need space, Vincent is the Sinclair for you. He's used to being quiet and deflecting and riding out anger.

However, once he realizes that your anger is not directed at him or isn't explosive enough to become a problem for him, he's concerned. Rather than asking what happened, he will ask if you're okay, and leave it up to you whether you'll tell him about it or not.

If you vent, he'll sit and listen patiently, maybe even thoughtfully working on a sculpture while you rant. He's not judgemental and he can be very emotional himself, so you could say the most ridiculous, dramatic things and he wouldn't even bat an eye. Let out all your messy, destructive thoughts and feelings. Just try not to throw or punch anything; that's when he shuts down.

If you decide you just want comfort, or decide you need comfort after ranting, art is his first suggestion. It may seem cold to you at first, that his instinct isn't to hold you or kiss you but rather to redirect you to a project - once you got to know him, however, you'd know that's his most genuine way to show he cares. Redirecting to something creative calms him down more than platitudes ever could, and he wants that for you. He's nonjudgmental about the art you create as well, even if it's objectively terrible. It's not about the quality.

He won't turn you down if you need physical affection, however. His twin is extremely tactile, so it wouldn't be the first time he held someone after a breakdown. He prefers to do this if he's certain you won't lash out physically, but if you were in a really bad way and needed to be touched, he'd do it regardless.

Lester Sinclair

Lester witnessed his parents' anger, but it was usually indirectly; if Bo was the Bad One and Vincent was the Good One, he was the Overlooked One. He's not a perfect person, probably not even a good person, but of the three brothers, he's the most normally socialized. He isn't trained to be tuned into everyone's every shifting mood in order to survive.

It takes Lester a little longer to pick up on your anger than his brothers, but not too much longer. It takes him a couple tries at trying to talk to you or get your attention before he realizes something is really wrong.

His first reaction is to get upset. He soaks up emotions like a little sponge, so he's suddenly cranky, too. He also jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're angry with him, and he does not take rejection well. He might be bitter and passive aggressive. You being angry just makes him want to go in another room and not be around you, and yet at the same time, he wants your reassurances. It's messy and sad.

Once he realizes - either through observing you or through you communicating with him - that you're mad at another person or situation, then he'll feel comfortable enough to approach you and ask you about it. You'll definitely need to reassure him that you're not mad at him though.

If you wanna rant, he'll take you on a long drive and let you vent your heart out to him. He won't be quite as aggressive as Bo, but he'll be on your side, frowning with disapproval, telling you "Ya can't fix stupid." If you want only comfort or need comfort after venting, he feels much more equipped for that. He'll put something relaxing in the VHS or let you play his old Super Nintendo, get you a beer, just let you chill out. And he'll let you win at Doctor Mario.

If the situation is something really serious, you best believe he'll be talking to his brothers about it the second he gets a chance. He may be a sweet guy, but he can be real nasty, and he doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. You might have to keep an eye out to make sure he doesn't tell someone off or punch out someone's lights.

Michael Myers (OG)

In 1978, Michael is not very in tune with any emotions besides fear, and even then he only really understands it in an abstract way, as his condition and upbringing haven't really been conducive to him learning about emotions. Unless you're screaming in terror, have tears running down your face, or are shouting angrily, he really can't read your moods. Without any obvious change to how you normally act or look, there's a huge chance he might just not notice if you're angry. He spends a lot of time in his own little world.

In 2018, even though he's spent over 50 years institutionalized, Michael has had time to take in the world, and he's seen a lot more. He understands fear much more than he did when he was 21, but what he understands most of all is anger. His anger fuels him. He would pick up on yours right away and be curious, though he wouldn't verbalize it.

If you tell him how you feel, he'll take note of it. If he witnesses you doing something destructive because of your anger, he'll simply observe. He would be fascinated with this thing you're doing, because it's not something you normally do, and though he might not notice emotions, he certainly notices routine and pattern. Either way, you'll have to tell him how you feel, because he'll simply watch you otherwise.

One thing that can be said for Michael is that he's a good listener. He may not internalize everything you say, but he will remember what he thinks is important. You may be surprised; he may remember tiny little details that seem inconsequential to you but loom large in his mind.

Unless you were caused serious physical or mental harm, he would not be angry on your behalf. He would, however, do nothing to assuage your anger. He thinks it would be kinda neat and interesting to see you snap. He's not 100% sure why you don't just do it.

In 1978, he won't be much help beyond listening to you, but he would be curious to see what you do to vent your anger. You may find him by your side more often, observing you. He may also want to find and observe the object of your anger, especially if it's a person. In 2018, he would, in his own way, suggest you solve the problem by murdering someone/something. He's insatiable, but killing is the closest he's ever come to satisfaction. You should try it.

Jason Voorhees

Out of all of the slashers, Jason is the most likely to actually literally sense your anger, especially if you're psychically sensitive/powerful like Tina Shepard. I'm talkin'—assuming you have a pre-established relationship—he'll be doing something else and just get this itch that tells him you're out there somewhere, pissed off.

Obviously this is untenable. As long as he's not super busy or Pamela has other plans, Jason will stomp his way through the woods to get back to you, regardless of the urgency of your anger. If Pamela doesn't approve, well, he'll let a little anger go and assume you're okay. If he suspects you may be in danger, though, he's sprinting regardless of what Mom says. There's time for both things, Ma!

The first thing he'll do when he returns to you is scan your dwelling, then you, making sure nothing is broken. At that point, you'd probably be able to sense his confusion even without him signing. Jason doesn't experience emotions quite like a human anymore, and he's quite tactile besides, so a lack of tangible or visible clues as to why you're upset would trip him up for a second.

He doesn't want to comfort you at first, he wants to know what's wrong. He'll listen to you vent only long enough to understand the situation and identify his target. His immediate next move would be to eliminate the problem. You'll definitely have to hold him back, and it may take a bit of convincing. Earthly consequences don't really apply to him.

Before comfort comes blowing off steam, for you and for him. His first choices would be mangling some trees (you can pretend it's for firewood) or skipping/throwing stones into the lake. You're welcome to join him if those things calm you down; watching him get his stone to skip like 11 times on Crystal Lake may make you feel better, at least.

You might hang out there for hours before he suddenly decides it's time to go home. He'll do what he can to make your comfortable or stay out of your way while you make yourself comfortable, then comfort you as you please. His go-to choice is always foot or hand massages.

Leslie Vernon

Leslie is extremely observant and surprisingly analytical given how silly he is in the day to day. His intuition makes it pretty easy for him to read people, but especially you, since you two are so close. Especially-especially if you're his Survivor Girl (gender neutral term of course). You two are in sync, so he knows if something's up. Maybe even before you fully figure it out.

God, you're so hot when you're angry, you really are. He almost wants to let you scream and holler and go nuts. But he prefers you only get angry like that at him, especially if you're his Survivor Girl, so his first move is to comfort you or talk you down to a place where you can be comforted. He'll speak to you calmly and rationally, reassuring you and touching you if you wanna be touched—on your upper arms or shoulders or face, or with one arm around your back.

He doesn't just want to comfort you, though, he wants to calm you down enough that you can tell him what happened. Even if you claim you don't want to talk about it, he will coax it out of you eventually. He's gotta know what got you so upset. It's his business to know everything about you!

Assuming you're angry at someone/something that isn't him, he'll talk it through with you. If you're upset about an argument with someone, he has the capacity to see it from the other side, but ultimately, he's there for you. He'll let you bitch as much as you want, still touching you, and he'll be disgusted and/or disappointed with the situation.

Above all, though, what he wants is to see you smile again. The only worries on your mind should be the ones he comes up with, and man, he's not even halfway done grooming the next batch of unlucky teenagers. He'd pat your face or touch your hair and tell you to cheer up, and probably defuse the situation with a stupid quip or joke. Take you out somewhere fun, maybe.

Once you were cheered up, he'd humbly suggest you solve your problem with a little murder. "I mean, I know killing's not really your thing—you're really good at it, though, a talent! You know that..." Pause, considering you. "You want me to do it? 'Cause I can clear my schedule for the rest of the night." If you decline, he'd be like "Suit yourself" but may or may not still murder whoever upset you. If you agree, he'd be super excited to make a romantic night of it. His mind would be going a million miles an hour planning everything out.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy knows anger when he sees it. Not only does he have loads of internalized anger, he's been on the receiving end of it plenty. He's far too large to be scared of anyone in a physical sense anymore, but he's been shouted at countless times. To know when to shut up and do as he's told versus arguing back, he's learned to gauge intensity and direction of anger, and he well knows that anger can be redirected to him.

So, he instantly recognizes your mood, but it might be a while before he approaches you. When he does approach, he'll let you decide what to do, whether that's throwing your arms around him or banging your fists on his chest to vent your anger. You won't hurt him.

Eventually, once you're all hugged or cried or screamed out, he'll wrap his arms around you and give you a reassuring squeeze. There's no need to tell Tommy what's wrong—he won't ask unless you're obviously in serious distress or injured—but if you decide to speak, he'll listen, brows drawn tightly the whole time. He's thoughtful about the situation.

If you're mad at someone in his family, there isn't much he can do for you besides comfort you and assure you that whoever upset you—Hoyt, probably—didn't mean what they said. If you were hurt physically, it would be another story, but his family gets in shouting matches all the time.

Rather than offering help, he'd wait for you to request it of him. Whatever you ask, shy of hurting his family, he will do. Murder someone? No problem. Make you some food? You got it. Bring you a blanket? Sure. Give you some quiet alone time? That's fine, too.

If you need to vent, he's got plenty of ways to get out your frustration. Plenty of farm work to do, or you could work on something around the house with him. He might suggest knitting or sewing or some other handicraft you enjoy. It always makes him feel better to buckle down and use his hands for something.

If you're still preoccupied/upset by the time you two bed down, or heaven forbid the next morning, then he starts taking it more seriously. Something that disturbs you for that long is bad news. He'll watch you carefully the next couple days to see how you're doing, waiting for you to need him for something.

Bubba Sawyer

Like Tommy, Bubba has been on the receiving end of anger many, many times, so he's familiar with what it looks and feels like. Despite his size, he's still susceptible to physical violence at the hands of his loved ones, so he's very wary of anger.

However, he doesn't have a female presence in his life like Luda Mae, who expresses her anger through passive aggression—so, he's more used to shouting and screaming. If you aren't prone to screaming and shouting, it might take a little bit for him to realize you're not just sad or upset, you're angry.

Bubba will be over you. He'd give anyone else their space because he'd be afraid of retaliation, but you're his special person, and he's pretty sure you're not going to hurt him. He'll touch your hair, your arms, your wrists; he'll babble as he tries to figure out what's wrong. He just wants to comfort you and let you know everything is all right.

If it's too much or you're overwhelmed and you snap at him, he'll ease back. He'll blubber like a kicked puppy, but he won't give up. He'll still try to comfort you, just in other ways, such as getting you a comfort item or article of clothing, or maybe some food. And boy will he helicopter.

There's no need to tell Bubba what's wrong. In fact, it might be better if you didn't; if it's something he can't fix, it would do nothing but majorly stress him out. If it was one of his family members who upset you, as with Tommy, he wouldn't be able to do much. Even if you were hurt, he's just not in a position to stand up for you. That fact would absolutely kill him, though. He'd end up getting even more upset than you.

He doesn't know what help to offer you beyond comfort, but like Tommy, if you requested something specific, he'd try to carry out your wishes. He'll also try to cheer you up with some music and dancing, or just being silly like you like.

Need to blow off steam? He's got plenty of coping mechanisms! Bubba's idea of a perfect de-stress session is turning up the radio and getting lost in crafts. He's got lots of supplies, mostly to create clothing and accessories, and you're special, so you can have your pick. A drive and the radio might be nice, too. If neither of those appeal to you, he'll try cooking or baking with you. He loves sharing the kitchen with someone.

If none of that works and you're still upset, be prepared, because he's gonna be an anxious mess until you're better.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is somewhat familiar with other people's anger. He certainly has a whole fountain of internalized anger brewing just beneath the surface, but that's different. He knows that when Mummy is angry, she yells and cries, and when Daddy is angry, he seethes and stews. The former would be obvious to him, but the latter would take him a few minutes to be quite sure about. You're not acting how you usually do. Are you being stern or are you angry? Are you cross with him?

He does not have a lot of empathy for other people, so if your anger gets in the way of his routine or the attention he wants, he'll be irked, cranky, sad. Not necessarily at you—though that is possible—but the situation in which you find yourselves.

Much like Bo, he's allowed to have big, messy feelings, but it makes him uncomfortable and scared when other people have those feelings. He might even hide from you for a while, especially if you screamed and cried.

Once he realizes something is really wrong and you're not mad at him, however, he'll start thinking of ways to cheer you up so things can go back to normal. He hates having his routine interrupted; he's very particular. And he cares for you, so seeing you in distress is very scary and uncomfortable for him.

He'll start by fetching you something you like—something manageable for him like your favorite juice or a sandwich, or if you have a special item or article of clothing, that. He's quite shy, though, and like I said, he'll probably be hiding, so he'll leave it somewhere he knows you'll find it (on the bed, outside your door, on your desk, etc.)

If that doesn't calm you down and your anger is really getting in the way of his routine, or otherwise making him uncomfortable, he'll finally make an appearance. Very bashful and timid at first, using his little boy voice. "What's wrong, Y/N? Did something bad happen?"

If it's something that can't be helped, he'll suggest you do something together to take your mind off it (most likely something he likes to do). He may even be coaxed into taking a walk around the grounds, though he doesn't like to leave the manor at all, so you'd have to convince him. He prefers quiet playtime, maybe some coloring books or loud music to vent your emotions. It would intrigue him to see someone else use his toys to calm down. As long as you recognized he was being very nice, sharing them.

If it was an argument you had with someone, he would want more information. Are they likely to leave you alone, or will they come to the manor? Will he have to deal with them? Because it's scary, but he'll do it for you.

If, for some reason, none of those things work, he may cry or throw a fit. Either way, he'll be frustrated. Adult Brahms may make an appearance and try to help you in more Adult ways.

Erik

Though he lives five cellars beneath an opera house now, Erik hasn't always been entirely reclusive. Even these days, when he can stomach it, he sometimes goes out to see the world. As a younger man, he observed people's lives and moods with a hungry fascination (that has now mostly been replaced by melancholy and longing and bitter anger). Like several of the other slashers here, he's had to train himself to sense fury to protect himself. He's also incredibly wrathful, so you could call him an expert!

He has a very keenly honed sense when it comes to you specifically, since he's watched you so much. He notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

If you know him as the "Angel of Music," his voice will appear to you once you're alone, asking you what's wrong and assuring you you can confide in him—he will insist you tell him, though. "There are to be no secrets between us, Y/N." He will listen without interjection as you vent your heart out, and when you're done, soothe you. Don't let his calming voice deceive you, though; behind that mirror, he's seething, planning to take matters into his own hands.

If you know him as Erik, he will go to you the second he recognizes the shift in your mood and take you from what you're doing, regardless of your wishes. He'll sit you down, kneeling before you with your hands in his, and gaze into your eyes, imploring you to tell him what's wrong. He'll absolutely allow you physical comfort, but he will also absolutely insist you tell. He'll need reassurance that you're not angry at him, because that thought would break his heart.

He will let you vent however you wish. You could have the most dramatic breakdown ever—throwing things, beating your fists on his chest, wailing—and he wouldn't judge you. He would be awfully concerned, though.

Will be 110% on your side. You are his poor little meow meow. "My poor love, my poor Y/N!" He is beside himself with sympathy for you and you only, and is very offended on your behalf.

He will always suggest music as an outlet for your anger, but he will have taken note of your other hobbies and interests as well. He'll fetch your things for you without being asked, as long as it won't separate him from you for very long. If you'd rather just have comfort, that's fine, too. He could hold your hand and caress your face for hours on end under normal circumstances, so no problem there. He may also suggest a little time on the surface, if you normally live in his home. Fresh air will do you both good, he reasons, and he enjoys spending time with you where others can witness it. It fills him with pride and love.

Otherwise, he's at your service for any other soothing activities you need. A calming bath, some sweets, shopping, anything. Perhaps avoid asking for any sexual contact, however. First of all, being asked directly makes him very skittish and nervous; second of all, his method of love-making (when you can coax him) is very intimate and tender, which may be tedious if you're in an angry mood.

Unless the situation is extremely serious or dire, his first priority is making sure you're soothed. Once that duty is fulfilled, however, he is absolutely angrier about it than you are. If it's not that serious, he won't skip straight to killing, if only because he knows it upsets you. He will definitely be writing an extremely strongly worded letter, however. If someone slighted you seriously, they're getting threatened. If someone hurt you physically, they're meeting the Punjab lasso.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Deacon definitely knows when people are angry. His step-mom was a passive-aggressive laundry-folder and his dad was a storming out of the house kinda guy; when the two of them were together, they were all hushed but heated arguments at night when they thought he couldn't hear them, or else extremely embarrassing passive-aggressive arguments in public. Growing up, he found himself around a lot of angry people. And there's no shortage of anger in him, either.

So yeah, Deacon knows when people are pissed, and he knows when people are pissed at him. The thing is, he just thinks it's fucking hilarious. He was that kid that would goad peers and teachers just to be an asshole and had virtually no friends as a result. He's a menace on the internet, too: a horrible troll for no reason, stirring the pot even when he doesn't have a stake in the argument. He's trained himself to find people's weak spots so he can strike at them. He does it to make himself feel more in control of his life and his own anger.

So when you're ticked off, he's gonna notice the change immediately. If you made a vent post on social media, he probably knows you're angry before you even see him. He follows all your social media (even if you don't realize it) and checks it constantly. He'd call you out of curiosity to ask what happened. He's open about his stalking tendencies: "I saw your post, babe, who do I need to stab?"

If you otherwise come home angry, he'll be up on his feet, following you around the house and pestering you, trying to get you to tell him what's wrong. If you try to hug him, he won't push you away, but he'll be distracted, trying to needle answers out of you the whole time.

There's no question in his mind as to whether or not you're angry at him. He just assumes you're not; he has a pretty good handle on how you act when you're angry at him specifically.

He'll let you rant all day if you want. You could talk about the shit that's pissed you off for hours and he'd still listen. Outwardly, he might poke you a bit and play devil's advocate for the other side of the argument, if there is one. This is purely for the purposes of being a little shit.

Internally, he's already going down his pre-murder checklist. If it was someone at work, they're dead. Someone in the neighborhood, dead. Online? It'll take a couple days, but they're dead. Even if you're not angry at anyone in particular, just a situation, he'll find someone to menace. He'd walk through fire for your approval.

He's not good with soft, emotional comfort, so instead he'll try to think of something to help you let off steam. His go-to is something competitive, especially if it involves you chasing each other. A Nerf or water gun war, a PVP game with you on opposite sides. He'll put up a good fight, but you always kick his ass.

Once the immediate situation is addressed and you've ranted your heart out to him, he can't keep his hands off you. "Seeing you all pissed off drives me crazyyyyyy." He's grinning, brown eyes sparkling. "Come onnnnn ... I'll get it off your mind!"

Courtney Dwayne Delmont (OC)

Courtney is a hunter of all manner of game, so he's used to interpreting non-verbal cues and body language—when an animal is in distress, when an animal is about to attack, etc. His grandfather was a very angry man, as well, in a simmering sort of way. He would seethe about something before suddenly delivering one decisive strike. Courtney himself is not a particularly angry man, unless some prey is really giving him a hard time, but he can read your body.

If you come home angry, he'll stop in the middle of what he's doing and watch you, still and quiet, just confirming his suspicions. If you leave the room he's in to go collapse on the sofa or something, he'll follow you, looming over you and waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He's patient.

If you want to vent, he'll sit and listen thoughtfully, doing something with his hands while you speak—probably cleaning his gun or some other weapon. He doesn't look at you. He wouldn't demand greater context to the situation but he would ask "Why?" and "Who?" until he understood Enough.

If you want comfort, he'll sprawl on the couch and let you lay on top of him. He'll probably pull a blanket on top of you to try and encourage a nap. If the nap doesn't make you feel better, he's feeding you protein. Do you like homemade jerky?

Sex is also on the table (not literally ... unless). He's found it's a great way to blow off steam, and he's more than happy to make all worries, troubles, and other thoughts go away for a little bit. Expect that to be the rest of your night, though, because he doesn't do quickies.

Generally, he trusts you to handle your own shit, so he would be more focused on you than whatever made you feel the way you do. However, if days passed and you were still angry/upset/sad, or if it plunged you into a breakdown or was an otherwise extremely serious situation ... just give him a target. It's up to you, but if you tell him to take the shot, it'll be quick and clean. If you're unable to make the decision, he'll decide for you without hesitation.

Kathleen Montgomery (OC)

I'm still developing her so this one won't be as in-depth and is subject to change.

Kath makes it her business to know everything about you. Chances are she's seen you explode screaming while stalking you ... chances are, if you've been in a relationship for a while, she's made you explode screaming. She knows what you look like when you're angry. Besides, she's strong for her size, but she often has to take down people who are much bigger and stronger than her; she uses manipulation and trickery to help ease that divide, so she's good at reading people.

Like Deacon, she also monitors all your social media, so if you made a vent post, she already knows you're in a shitty mood before you come home. Unlike Deacon, she doesn't tell you how she knows, so you're left to assume she's just all knowing. Considering her god complex, that works for her.

She'd probably text you to come home, and she expects you to answer. If you're unable to come home, she'll call you to ask what's wrong.

Once you're together, she wants to know everything about the situation. Even as you're speaking, she's already on her phone or laptop, looking up the people involved. Instead of getting mad on your behalf, she laughs. She's a fan of emphasizing how pathetic or weak the opposition is.

She takes your feelings on the subject seriously, but everyone else in the situation? Insects. Not even worthy of your time or concern, let alone hers. You're obviously in the right here (even if you're not). She'll tell you as much, and say some pretty intense, over-the-line things about whomever/whatever you're angry at.

Overall, however, she's calm and collected about the situation. Your bout of anger is a chance to get you to be reckless with her. She'll do your hair and makeup and dress you up nice, then take you out. Fast driving, drinking, baiting people at bars, menacing neighborhoods ... maybe a little killing, if you'd like.

***

Masterlist

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tryingmybestpls · 4 years ago

Text

Golden

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader and Bucky go through different stages of the Reader’s pregnancy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, giving birth

Two Months

Y/N had been mulling over how she was going to tell him since she found out a week ago. She had thought her anxiousness and worries would have faded away after she saw those two little lines on the test. No, they had only increased ten-fold, only worsening when she went to her doctor and got an official test. Her stomach tossing and turning when the doctor told her that she's been pregnant for eight weeks. Y/N was now stuck with the most important and difficult part of this whole thing-telling Bucky Barnes that she was pregnant with his baby.

How does one tell an over one hundred year old super soldier that they're going to be a father? Getting a tiny Brooklyn Dodgers onesie made? Too cliché. Make some awful pun themed dinner that might include "buns in the oven"? Might go over his head. Hand him the sonogram that she had gotten after the pregnancy test just to be sure? He's from the forties, what the fuck is he going to know about a sonogram?

Y/N was terrified over he was going to react. Bucky was barely getting used to the world, barely getting used to having control of his own mind. And while he had been doing a lot better and he makes sure to take care of himself, Y/N didn't know how he would handle the stress of a baby. Did he even want to be a dad? Y/N didn't even know if she wanted to be a mom, but she know that somehow it felt right. They've never even talked about having children and now-well they were sort of past the point of thinking about having kids.

The whole situation made her want to vomit, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just from the morning sickness.

Y/N eventually landed on telling him over dinner. Nothing too fancy, just the usual place they always go to so that Bucky wouldn't think anything was up. All day long as she sat through meeting after meeting, her date got closer and closer, and that dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach grew with every second. Y/N felt like she was going to vomit by the time she met up with her boyfriend back at their apartment. Luckily, Bucky talks the entire car ride to the restaurant, complaining about something Sam did that day. She uses her training for good, covering up her nervousness with a neutral face.

They made their regular small talk as they sit in the back of the restaurant at their usual table. Y/N orders her usual lemonade while Bucky orders a Coke. They share a basket of bread and Y/N hopes that the carbs soak up the acid that keeps threatening to rise up her throat. Each time she wants to bring up her news, their waitress would come up with refills, an E.T.A on their food, or just to ask how they were doing. And each time, Y/N would glare daggers at her back once she was turned around to walk away.

Then their respective plates of pasta were placed in front of them. Bolognese for Bucky, arrabbiata for Y/N. While usually she immediately dives into her plate, the way her stomach is twisting and turning, she's unable to eat. Y/N pushes her pasta around with her fork as she works up the courage to talk to him. She just didn't know how to say it. All she knew is that she had to say it. Y/N puts down her fork, moving to wipe her now sweaty hands on the cloth napkin on her lap as she looks up at him. Bucky was raising a pasta laden fork up to his mouth as she opened hers.

"I'm pregnant." She finally blurts out. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the noise of the other guests at the restaurant. She was afraid that he couldn't hear her, afraid that she was going to have to say it again. But by the way Bucky's eyes widen, she knew that he had heard her loud and clear. He lowers his fork, mouth opening and shutting.

"I-What? You're-What?" The super soldier asks, looking from her face to her stomach and back to her face. Y/N felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach, the blood draining from her face.

"I-I'm pregnant. I found out last week." Y/N manages to get out, still looking down at her plate. Her eyes started to sting and she tried to blink her eyes rapidly in order to keep her tears at bay. Bucky's silence is deafening and Y/N wishes she could run out of the restaurant, but it's like she's glued to the chair. She wants him to say something-anything, but he is silent. Y/N is about to say something when he holds his hands up, almost in defense.

"Wait. I-I don't want you to be upset. I'm not mad-I just don't know how to put my feelings into words. I'm happy. I'm really happy. I just-You know I'm not good with words." Bucky finally speaks, stumbling over his words. Her eyes widen and she quickly looks up at him.

"I-Really?" Y/N asks, the knot her stomach slowly unraveling. Bucky nods, a small smile appearing on his face. This time the tears that are filling her eyes from happiness.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about babies or raising a child, but I'm sure I can figure it out." Bucky jokes, his metal hand fiddling with his utensils on the table. Y/N feels a million times better, a huge weight being lifted off of her shoulders. He looks up at her again, "I'm happy, Y/N. I am."

"Me too. Me too."

Four Months

As Y/N walked into her apartment, the only thing on her mind was kicking her shoes off, taking off her bra that was digging into her sides, and taking a much deserved nap. Her meeting had ended early and with Rhodey not needing help with anything, she had decided to return to her apartment. Yet, with not even a foot inside of the apartment, she was immediately greeted with an argument.

"No, what I am saying is you're painting wrong." Bucky snaps, which makes Y/N's eyebrow raise. Her boyfriend wasn't in sight, but he certainly was in the apartment somewhere. She sets her things down, walking over to where the arguing is coming from.

"How the hell can I be painting wrong? I'm putting paint on the wall. The wall is getting painted." Sam fires back and Y/N has to force herself to not laugh, covering her mouth. She stands in the doorway of the guest room, taking in the sight in front of her. The floor and furniture was covered in plastic tarp, blue painting tape lining the white molding and outlets. Painting supplies littered the room and standing in the middle of all of it were two idiots, both of them holding paint rollers covered in a light sage green paint.

"I'm sorry-what's going on here?" Y/N questions, motioning to the two of them and the mess in the room. Their heads snapped towards her, nervous smiles spreading across their faces. They looked like two kids that have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Hey doll-uh fuck-surprise." Bucky announces a little defeatedly while Sam gives a one handed jazz hand. Y/N laughs, carefully stepping into the room as the 106 year old man tries to explain, "I-We were going to surprise you by painting the room. Why are you home so early?"

"My meetings ended early and I am extremely surprised. Thank you and thank you too, Sammy." Y/N says sweetly, smiling at the two of them. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and Sam chuckles. While the men may not see eye to eye all of the time, Sam has been a great help to both of them. The man had some knowledge about babies and children, being the proud uncle to two little boys, and he had been trying his best to put some of Bucky's worries at ease.

"I'm just trying to be a really great uncle." Sam teases, which makes the super soldier roll his eyes. Bucky didn't have any living siblings and Y/N's teammates were the closest thing she had to family so it was going to be Uncle Sam, Uncle Rhodey, Auntie Pepper, Auntie Wanda, and so on and so forth. Their little patchwork support system that they were incredibly grateful for.

"Do you two need any help? I can't because I am pretty sure I'm not supposed to be inhaling paint fumes. But I can give Peter a call, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Y/N offers, grinning from ear to ear. She knows that both men weren't exactly best friends with Peter Parker, both of them having gotten their asses handed to them by a teenager. Y/N didn't have any issues with the kid, hell she talked to him on a weekly basis. He reported to her every Friday, filling Y/N on his week. While it had first started as him telling her what Spider-Man did, it soon turned into a three hour long meeting that included take out while he filled her in the weekly drama and tales of him and his two friends. And every Friday when she would return to the apartment, Sam and Bucky would greet her by calling her traitor.

"Jesus-No, we are okay doll. I think we can manage, right Sam?" Bucky asks, looking at the other man. Sam just nods, holding his paint covered roller a little higher.

"Yeah yeah I think we will be okay. This room will be done in no time."

Seven Months

Y/N watched from her seat at the kitchen island as Bucky moved around the kitchen, attempting to make dinner.

Y/N had been put on bed rest due to the fact that the Super Serum that had affected Bucky's DNA was causing the baby to grow at an accelerated rate. Seeing that this is going to be the first baby born with the serum (that they know of), the doctor wanted Y/N to be cautious.

Bucky, had taken the doctor's words incredibly seriously, going so far as to not even let make any food, like he is doing now.

"Bucky, baby, I can help you, y'know." Y/N tells him as Bucky attempted to follow a fairly simple recipe for marinara sauce. It was already going south pretty fast. He hadn't bought the right type of tomatoes and hadn't chopped nearly enough garlic. She kept herself from micromanaging the whole thing, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"Doll, I used to make dinner for me and my sister. I think I can handle this." He replies, setting the knife he was using to chop up the yellow onion aside. He scoops up the onion in his hands, moving to toss it into the big pan on the stove. The onions sizzle as soon as it hits the olive oil covered surface of the pan.

When Y/N had told Bucky she was craving pasta, she had kind of meant that they would just pick something up. Bucky had decided that he would make the meal himself and Y/N, once she saw how excited he was, didn't have the heart to tell him that she had wanted take-out.

It was actually sort of sweet, seeing him trying to hard to make this meal for her. All he wanted to do is take care of her, take care of their baby. She loved cooking for him for the same reason. It was a way to show her love, to show how much she cared about him and he just wanted to do the same.

"Alright, Barnes. I believe in you." Y/N responds, smiling at him. She just watched as he cooked (and occasionally danced to the jazz music that was playing on the record player). It didn't matter if the meal sucked, Bucky was just trying his best to take care of his girlfriend and their child.

But for the record, the meal did suck.

Eight Months

It was a sight, seeing them together.

Bucky held their daughter close to his chest, bouncing her carefully as the light started to filter through the blinds of her hospital room. A smile was stretched across his tired face as he moved from side to side, cooing to her softly. His hair was a mess, his clothes incredibly wrinkled. The morning light surrounded the two like a halo and if Y/N could, she'd take a picture of them. A picture of her family.

Their daughter had been born a month early, which wasn't too surprising considering with how fast she had been growing. Although it was a shock when Y/N's water broke the night before while they were sleeping. Then Y/N had spent most of yesterday in labor, finally giving birth to their sweet baby girl-Rebecca Natalia Barnes, named after Bucky's little sister and Y/N's best friend-in the evening. Bucky had started crying when Y/N had told him that she had wanted to name their daughter after his sister, not thinking that Y/N would have wanted to pay tribute to his long dead sister.

"Look Rebecca, mommy's awake." Bucky says softly, looking over to where Y/N was laying in her bed. The Super Soldier grinned at her, still rocking their child. Y/N smiled at the two of them, shifting on the bed so she can sit up a bit more as her boyfriend walked over. She looks up at the two, her heart swelling with the way Bucky looks holding their daughter.

"Hi baby." Y/N says hoarsely, the bundle of pink shifting and squirming in Bucky's arms. She holds her arms out, silently asking if she can hold Rebecca. Bucky carefully places the newborn into her arms before he pulls the plastic chair closer to the bed, not wanting to be too far from either of them.

"I can't believe she's actually here." Y/N announces softly, taking in every detail of her daughter's face in the early morning light. She had Bucky's blue-gray eyes and his nose, but her hair. It felt weird to see her, felt weird to be holding her. Y/N felt like she was dreaming, but the pain she had gone through the night before-the pain she was still feeling now-had made it real.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Bucky asks, looking at mother and child interacting. Y/N nods, tears filling her eyes as she looks down at her daughter. She presses her lips against Rebecca's forehead, taking in that baby smell that every parenting book seemed to mention. Bucky is still smiling, looking at the two, "My two beautiful girls."

Hours from now, the hospital room would be filled with friends what were more likely family, wanting to share this incredibly special moment with the Y/L/N-Barnes family. Rebecca would be introduced with her aunts and uncles, each one of them getting a chance to hold and introduce themselves to the newborn.

But for now, for now, the three of them were alone. The three of them sat together in this room, all getting used to each other. Nothing else existed outside of this room, nothing else mattered outside of this room. All that mattered was that they were together.

#bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #tfatws

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Rush Hour

Pairing | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary | whilst on the way to an interview, you and Sebastian are stuck in traffic. There seems to be only one way to pass the time that comes to mind.

Warnings | smut, fingering, teasing, slight voeyurism I guess (on the phone?)

QUICK LINK TO MY MASTERLIST IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF MY CRAP 😬

It was stressful, viewing how parades of cars, lined up in their designated sections filled the large road. It appeared as none of them were going to start moving for a while, and it made you bite your lip in frustration. Out of all days, it had to be this very one, when you had to assign your presence within a specific slot of time.

You and Sebastian had even left early, as insurance that you would arrive at your destination on time, but now, you had severe doubts that you would. And those doubts, within the past few minutes, had became incredible high. It looked as though there was no chance of escaping this frozen parade for the current and important time being.

Even the simplicity of looking out the window made you slightly mad, you had places to be, as you assumed many other people that were under the same predicament were too, but for the meanwhile, you weren’t going anywhere. The lines of vehicles were stuck in some kind of limbo, stricken by the same thundering of karma at once.

Your significant other was behind the wheel, tapping his long fingers upon the round gear, causing your attention to divert up to his talented digits. As you studied them and their smooth exterior, an idea rendered in your fuming mind, and so, to put it into action, you slyly placed one of your own hands to rest upon his upper thigh.

Sebastian, instead of waving off the affection, smiled at it, thinking that it was nothing more than a tender instinct to also calm him down. The bet was, his agent would have his ass for showing up late, well aware that they had been the one to arrange this press in order to promote the latest of your shared projects.

However, he had not expected in this bustling, and public surrounding moment that you would creep your grip up higher, and so he tensed as you did just that. But he chose to allow you to continue for now, his front deep digging solely into his lower lip to express some of the tension that he was under whilst stuck in the car.

It was impossible to predict how long the pair of you would be stuck in the moving box, and it seemed that you had configured a way in your mind to pass it. One that had lead to your fingers dancing over his trousers, and making him groan lightly in anticipation.

His cobalt eyes snapped towards you though as you removed your hand. To put it simply, you were teasing him, riling him up in the constricted amount of space. It relented you no escape from him, nor his uptake in revenge. And as you shrouded under his gaze against the inside of the passenger side door, you gulped.

Perhaps, you thought, you should have just kept your hands to yourself. And then, you would not have been stuck in this predicament of being cursed with his winter glare; it made you feel like melting ice cowering into the level below. For a second, you wished the controls of the radio volume had the ability to reverse time, so that you could correct your mistake.

The feeling of his hands abandoning the wheel, considering that the car was not going to be continuing moving on the road for a while, and drifting towards the bottom seam of your skirt had you inhaling as much air as your lungs would allow. It would not be the first instance of which he put his earnest skin upon yours in public, but with all around being still on one spot, a part of you worried sincerely of a noticed fan grabbing their phone with their clammy hands, and recording the interaction.

And if done, the interval, whilst stuck in one, would be painted sourly over the entire internet. There would be an assortment of clashing reviews; some lustful and imagining what it would be like to be trapped in the car with you two, and others shaming of your indecency. And to say the magazines and online articles would have a field day, well, that would be an understatement.

Seb drifted his feather light touch up higher, brushing just above the border that labelled the end of your outfit. Instead of say anything that compromised his mission, you settled back into your seat, sinking your head into the designed rest, and opened your legs a little, permitting him no resistance to do as he pleased; all because, you wanted the satisfaction and fulfilment of the adult acts too.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, squashing it beneath the carnivorous bone, as his hands danced elegantly around beneath the complimentary fabric. He toyed with you, by stroking his fingers over the thin material of your underwear, expertly putting pressure down upon your covered bud, confiscating a breathy whine out of your closed mouth. “You’re already wet.” A damn smirk coveted itself upon his healthy lips, your eyes flickering between the seductive sight, and that hidden beneath your clothes.

“Do something.” It wasn’t an order on your part; it was a sensual beg, in other terms, your sexual starvation put into words. The air from your lungs was practically ripped away as your partner delved his explorative fingers into the privacy of your garments, the pads of his delirium causing fingers heading straight towards your swollen and puffy clit.

With no hesitancy, you head rolled sideways to rest against the window, your breath frosting carelessly against the glass. Instead of caring about what was being viewed from the outside of the car, you focused on what could be seen from within the space of the front two seats. And so, you pushed up your skirt, giving the pair of you an explicit image of his hand roaming beneath the divider that kept your crotch from the barren air.

“Like this?” Sebastian taunted, sinking a finger into your sopping hole, causing your eyelashes to flutter at the sensation. A furrow worried his face however, even as he stayed still, not moving his digit, all due to the ringing of his phone. Using his free hand, he picked up the device, bringing it to his ear. “Hello?”

As he began to converse, he slowly paced his finger in and out of you, the thought of him finger fucking you whilst on the phone making you that much wetter. “No, me and y/n are going to be late, there’s traffic.” You assumed that he was speaking to his agent, and as you mewled, he left you empty, bringing his finger to his mouth to clean.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to be until the road clears.” Seb sighed, after removing his slick coated digit from his mouth, pouring a little spit onto it, and bringing it down to rest on you clit. Shuffling, you leant back as far as the seat belt allowed you to have both of your feet to be perched on the end of the passenger side, knees tucked up your body willing to take whatever he would so much as give to you.

“Seb.” At the sound of his voice falling so erotically from his lips, a crease formed between his eyebrows, and so, as punishment for interfering with the static of his phone, he pinched your clit, and to cease the audible response, you bit into the palm of your hand, leaving indents of your teeth begins.

“I can’t make it go any faster.” You were not sure whether he was speaking to you or his agent. But it didn’t matter, not as he began to roll your clit between his fingers, paying the button ample attention, that had your head going all fuzzy and thoughtless.

“As much as I wish I could clear up this whole parade of stuck cars, I can’t.” He deliberately shook his head, purposely looking away from where he was playing with you to keep focused on the phone call, despite still rubbing tight circles around your bud. “She’s fine, in fact, she’s fallen asleep. Y/n will be all rested and content if we get there.”

Rested was a word that you were opting against, but if you were going to be privileged with being made content, then who were you to argue with him? So you remained silent, biting onto anything that could silence you, to keep yourself satisfied and ensuring that he would keep some truth behind his words. “See what you can do, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With little to no reluctance, he dropped his phone onto his lap, it meeting and causing some friction against his semi. But the awakening in his trousers was not his priority, instead it was the slick that was collecting so wholesomely on his fingers, acting as a natural lubrication to continue his round administrations.

“Sebby.” This time, instead of trying to silence you, the man marked you with a pleasant grin, only to apply more pressure behind his movements. It was a wicked deed, but you had no mind to it as it served no bother; instead, you were rather pleased that he was to be giving in on his pardoning.

“You going to cum for me darling?” His words were almost taunting, you could feel a flush of heat cascade up your neck and all around your body. And all from clitoral stimulation, this man certainly knew what he was doing. “Cum on my fingers baby, make them all nice and wet.”

Plunging your teeth once more into your bottom lip, you groaned, shutting your eyes and breathing steadily throughout your nostrils. And with that, you shattered underneath him, your shoulders twinging from the spasming aftershocks that riddled your body senseless.

“Would you look at that, the cars are slowly beginning move.” You needn’t have even needed to open your y/e/c eyes to know that there was an amused smirk contouring his features; that man sure could get cocky sometimes, and half of those happened to be in public.

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cybertronian-cupid · 4 years ago

Note

I'm not sure why but I love the idea of tfa Sentinel being in massive denial of being such a bottom. If possible, maybe some sfw and nsfw headcanons of Sentinel with a serious, battle scarred, confident top dom male s/o, who enjoys teasing him (in and out of the bedroom) and is into a lot of Sentinel's own kinks (giving rather than receiving). Love your blog!!!

Turns out him being a masochist really shined through, so keep that in mind folks! The sheer amount of denial this guy has really let the imagination run wild! *CACKLES*💥~Gregoria🏩

............................. ....................... ............................

Sentinel brags any chance he gets about how his S/O is better than any of the other organics on this planet.

Now Sentinel takes a while to fluster, since any compliments or acknowledgments of his skill feed straight to his already overgrown ego, but when he is flustered he runs out of things to say. Shuts right up on the spot.

It’s hilarious, Jazz has called the man to rescue many times when he felt everyone needed a break from Sentinel running his mouth, the bot himself included.

The dry, serious delivery of cutesy or incredibly specific nicknames in private always catches him off guard. They both agree any overly lovey-dovey stuff will be done in private, nicknames included.

He once decided to force his S/O to rest by turning off the lights in his hab, thinking his human won’t be able to finish the paperwork if he gets them both onto his berth. A few sincere whispers about what his boyfriend loves about him turned him into a night light strong enough for S/O to quickly finish their work and then kiss his pouty blushy Prime afterwards. Sentinel still hasn’t gotten over the embarrassment.

Sentinel never asks for attention. He expects that him coming to his S/O means he will get it- after all, he made the advance and is in charge, and has the upper hand over his boyfriend height wise. He is incredibly hard to ignore and shouldn’t be ignored in the first place!

He will fume and complain if he is told to wait when he comes to pick his boyfriend up, and will try pulling the biggest kicked puppy card when he finally gets attention. Acting aloof, like he doesn’t even want it and has better things to do anyway. Half pouting and complaining over “the incompetent management” of his S/O’s workplace is bound to happen if anyone else can be blamed for his delayed affection.

Battle simulations and sparring? He loves doing those with his S/O and will be in a good mood for the rest of the day when he kicks his boyfriend’s ass. His smug grin is downright insufferable, but the kisses are worth hearing him boast about robots being far superior in combat.

His finials tend to rotate back and forth in small set patterns while he rests and he likes having them petted when he’s close to falling asleep. Mass displaced or not, he will be leaning into the touch.

He does prefer doing things with his S/O in his regular height. Being mass displaced dulls some of the finer sensations and makes him just a bit antsy. Not to mention that he can stomach and handle one organic lifeform his size, anything more than that and he will have a trauma flashback.

He finds his holoform disgusting and avoids using it as much as he can. The few times he has to use it he is incredibly uncomfortable and will need some sort of metal accessory to ground him. He can’t handle any teasing in regards to that.

............................. ....................... ............................

Valveplug:

He is furious at how easily his boyfriend shut him up and took charge in the bedroom.

Especially since he knows how to get Sentinel’s valve all hot and dripping before they even start anything. Not spike, valve. The first time it happened Sentinel was mortified and stormed off.

After he blew off some steam and got his ego stroked when he bared his valve for his boyfriend to see, he was still snappy about his S/O getting him so worked up with doing practically nothing.

For a while he keeps insisting on his spike being used, and is pissy even after the multiple overloads he experiences. He’s a stubborn bastard and will rather spend the rest of his defrag cycle self-servicing than letting his boyfriend see what faces he makes when he overloads properly.

So his S/O had to really play up the “I got lucky this time” sketch - Sentinel never mass displaces without a good enough reason and when he ends up bottoming and really letting loose, the guy needs to have the option to say he was tricked. Or that he was doing it just to make his boyfriend feel good about his skills as an organic. Or even that it was all his work anyway.

“What’s the matter, can’t take me on unless I make it easy for you?” is what he said the first time. His S/O had to prove he can get him off when he’s at his usual height, but then again, the man makes Sentinel’s systems nearly go on autopilot.

To say there were many things to unpack before his boyfriend expanded the toys used is an understatement. He wouldn’t even use the established safe word when they first started. But, having both spike and valve stimulated for a couple of days with almost no break and being teased in public does wonders. The squeak when he finally uttered it was so unlike him his S/O almost didn’t recognize it was him.

He likes to claim he’s “forced” to mass displace and will be an absolute brat. He has to be wrestled to the ground and cuffed in a way that makes his protoform ache (THAT took a while to figure out- stasis cuffs tingle, and even then, none are small enough to use mass displaced).

Choking with a tight collar and obstructing any other ventilation points on his frame, combined with high-voltage shocks to his protoform, gets his valve practically overflowing with lubricant. Telling him he’d make a good cumdump and how filthy he is will have his lights flickering and vocalizer strain to keep quiet.

When there’s a whip pressed against his outer node, and/or a rubber baton ready to slam into his valve it’s all big blue eyes from that point on. And he wails.

His chin is bigger than his spike and in a hilarious way apparently connected to the systems that trigger his panels, so rubbing the middle of that knob will get his charge skyrocket.

His exhaust pipe is off limits. And that’s not in the “haha, doesn’t want to be pegged” kind of way, it’s just that he tried it, hated it and doesn’t want to do anything with it.

When he isn’t mass displaced (and he uses the safe word as instructed), that’s when the real fun starts. The thrill and thought of disgust by anyone finding out that an organic is dominating him is intoxicating and humiliating, and he craves the high. He only really puts the control fully into his S/O’s hands when he’s interacting with Optimus and his team however.

Even if he does slip up, or is found out, like hell will anyone take a repair crew member seriously, if they decide to run their mouth about it.

Even so, he’s surprisingly well put together and gets heaps of praise after his S/O sees the recordings of him “being a good boss”. That is, if he does everything well and doesn’t touch himself inappropriately at any point.

If he doesn’t, he’s degraded and punished in ways that he never saw coming, the kind neither of them ever discussed. He’s always left reeling at the creativity his tiny organic comes up with and it sometimes makes him want to act up just to see how much his S/O can make it hurt.

If he ends up with coolant running down his face and his ventilation fans unoperational, he will be sated for weeks. A quick frag here and there sure, but other than that he’ll be much more focused on work and less on making life a living hell for everyone else.

He needs some time with no physical contact after hard sessions, the time when his S/O cleans himself up, puts the toys away and gets them both a drink is usually enough for him to recover. After he’s fueled and cleans himself up as well he practically melts into the aftercare. That’s almost the highlight of it all.

The actual highlight is his S/O cursing at all the damage to his frame that he needs help fixing. Even if it has become a routine after he fussed over his appearance one time, his S/O taking care in making him good as new while looking at the scratches and dents with a stare that could melt steel is something he holds near and dear to his spark. He won’t let anyone know that though.

#valveplug #tfa valveplug #tfa sentinel x male s/o #tfa sentinel x reader #tfa sentinel x s/o

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overly-b · 5 years ago

Text

Say It Again - JJ Maybank

In which JJ questions if he is deserving of you and your love.

Warnings: swearing, sad JJ, fluff, awful editing don’t come for me

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops)

Author's note: this is my first time writing in so long, be gentle with me friends. I know that a lot of people have done similar prompts of JJ feeling undeserving of love and the reader helps him through it, so this is a little bit unoriginal but, this is my take on it.

Bold italics is a flash back.

Thank you to @maybe-maybanks to the late night inspiration!

not my gif

As you, Kie and Pope approached the yard of the chateau, it became undeniably clear that JJ had gone off the rails with extravagant spending since you had seen him last.

“What did you do JJ?” Pope questions the boy sitting in the hot tub. Looking at you through his sunglasses, he smirks.

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now” He ignores Pope. “Y’all, should get in here immediately, you hear me?” His sentence slurs slightly. “Salud!” He toasts his plastic champagne flute in the air, but opts to take a swig from the bottle in his other hand.

JJ scans the faces of his three friends, eyes lingering at yours a moment longer than Kie and Popes.

You see, just days ago, after getting arrested, then beaten by his father, JJ found you, and poured his heart out, to find that you shared his feelings, and the two of you started seeing each other in secret.

Being that it was a secret, the two of you had yet to put any kind of label on it, but you loved that blonde boy to the ends of the earth, despite what had happened earlier that day.

“You know what, that's exactly what I’m gonna do. Go off, by myself.”

You watched as JJ began walking away. Pope attempted to stop him, but Sarah and John B had halted his efforts. You stood silently fuming at the actions of the boy you had such strong feelings for. How could he be doing something like this? This wasn’t the JJ you knew, had been friends with for years, and were now in love with. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you had loved him for years prior.

“JJ!” You seethed, shaking off John B’s attempts to hold you back from running after him. He was already a good distance away from the group, he probably couldn’t even hear you yelling, so you started speed walking. It soon became apparent that he was simply ignoring you.

“JJ!” You were merely twenty feet from him, screaming at his back. “JJ stop!” His strides continued.

“You were real quiet back there princess, finally decide to comment?” You stepped in front of him, shoving his shoulders to force his walk to a stop. “What the fuck Y/N!”

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! What has gotten into you right now JJ what are you doing?”

“Nothing has gotten into me Y/N I’m simply paying back what I owe.” He states, trying to walk past you.

“By stealing the money from the drug dealer that just jumped us?” Your brows raise as you interrogate him.

“He jumped us, he has this coming.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, succeeding in getting past you, as you stand shocked by his words.

“JJ you and I both know that you’re not that goddamned stupid.” His steps slow, he stands still. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? JJ I know that you owe money because of Pope but this isn’t right! You’re better than this-”

“Am I?” He turns on his heels to face you again, this time squaring his shoulders to be purposeful in standing tall over you. Him standing over you made you feel small in comparison to the raging blond. “Am I better than this?” He repeats his question.

“JJ what are you-”

“Because I’m starting to think that you, and your high standards, and your perfect life, only think that I am better than this because you want me to be better than this.”

You knew what he was referring to. You were by no means a kook, but your family was financially stable enough to afford a nice house, you had your own car, and if you wanted, you could afford to go to college on the mainland. Your life was unlike most lives on the cut, but JJ knew that your life was far from perfect.

“What the hell-”

“And that if we’re gonna be together, you need me to be better than this so that I can fit in with your life.” You had no idea what he meant. Your life was on the cut, with the Pouges, with him, and the difference of financial well beings of your familys never changed that before, so why was it now?

“What the fuck JJ stop-”

“Well you know what Y/N! I’m not better than this, this is who I am! I get into fights, I steal, I have a criminal record, when I get hit, I hit back this is who I am!”

“We both know that stealing twenty five thousand dollars from a drug dealer is never going to make anything better.” You attempt to reason with him. “This isn’t hitting back this is loading the gun that's already in your face!”

“Y/N I have to!” He spits. “I know you could never understand being in so much debt but this is my only option.” His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He looks down to his boots before continuing. “So I’m sorry that I’m not what you pictured as a boyfriend, but this is what I do Y/N. Maybe you trying to fight it means you deserve better than me.”

And just like that, it was clear that he was more mad with himself then he was with you. However, everything that he said was uncalled for, and nasty, and he had no right. You watch as he storms away, even more tense than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this affects your newfound relationship. You blink away the water from your eyes, and do your best to compose yourself as you slowly wander back to your friends.

“How much did this cost?” Pope asks. Your head was spinning as he listed all of the things that he had purchased since he left you standing in the woods.

“Uh, well. With the generator, the petrol, and, oh, hey, express delivery,” You knew the answer before he even had time to speak. “Pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“All of it?” Pope exclaims.

“Oh my god” You whisper, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead with your palm.

“Yeah all of it.”

“You spent all the money in one day?” “Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” He confidently explains. “But, I mean like come on guys, look at this!” The tone in his voice told you that he was holding back, it was alway his biggest tell when he would hold back his feelings. “Finest in jet based massage therapy, that's what they told me.”

The three of you are left speechless.

“Kie what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ still could not bring himself to look you in the eyes for more than a moment. “Come on, all this scrimping’ and scraping’” you notice his voice falter again. “I mean like, guys, we, you only live once. Right?” JJ finally locks eyes with you, and he reacts spastically, your dreaded look having the gravest effect on him.

“Y/N, stop, why are you looking at me like that?” He knew full well, but he was trying too hard not to show it. “I know that you’re mad about earlier okay, but, everything is fine now!” His voice was louder now, concealing the breakdown you knew was coming, sooner or later, here with the three of you or somewhere else. “Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass come on.” He smiles, waving you to join him.

“The what?” Kie furrows her brows.

“The Cat’s Ass.” JJ smugly replies, proud of himself. “That's what I named her. Oh hey yo, I almost forgot,” JJ leans forward, pressing a button that makes water spray across the tub, and even more colorful lights flash in front of him. “Huh! Yeah that's right, disco mode, thats right baby!” His eyes scan yours, noticing that they were clouding with tears. He quickly looks away from you, not wanting to see the damage that he had done, and was still doing.

“JJ,” Your voice is low and hushed as you blink back tears.

“Are you kidding me?” Popes harsh voice overpowers yours, cutting off you and your tears. “You could have paid for restitution!”

“Or literally given it to any charity” Kie fumes at the sight before her.

“Guys,” You mutter, wanting them to stop being so hard on the broken boy you secretly called yours. You were mad too, if not more than Pope and Kie due to your argument. However, you could see straight through the smug grins and happy fasad that JJ was trying to project. He was hurting, and you knew it wasn’t just about the fight the two of you shared.

“Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!”

“Guys!” You spoke up louder this time, only to be cut off by JJ.

“Okay well you know I didn’t do that!” As JJ’s swimsuit clad body surfaces from the hot water, you are confronted with what you knew would be there, and the tears pour from your eyes. “I got a hot tub!” JJ shakes in what appears to be anger, but you know it isn't anger he's reeling from. “For my friends,”

Kie and Pope gape at JJ’s bruised abdomen and instantly connect the dots as to who is responsible.

“I bought a hot tub for my friends.” He repeats. “You know what, no, you know what, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.”

“JJ what the hell-” Kie gasps.

“I got this for you! Guys look what I did for you! Alright?” JJ spins and gestures to everything he bought. “Look at this!” When he turns back, he finds that you were no longer holding back the tears your eyes once held.

“Y/N stop being emotional don’t, don’t cry okay? I know that I hurt you before,” His voice fails him as he recalls the words that he said to you. “But I did this for you,” He hangs his head, he knows how bad he fucked up, and it was hitting him all at once that this was not the way that he needed to make things right. This was not the way back to you, and the high of his twenty five thousand dollar spending spree was dissapating at his realisation, and at the sight of you before him.

“I mean, it’s sweet right?” JJ hadn't even realized that as he began talking, you had climbed into the hot tub. He looks into your eyes for a moment as you stand before him, and lets out a sob as you gently wrap your arms around him. His forehead falls to your shoulder, and all of his pent up energy released in the form of tears and heaves.

“I’m sorry. Baby I’m so sorry.” He whimpers to you, only for you to shush him tenderly. Kie and Pope share a confused glance at the nickname. “I couldn’t do it.” You rub his hair and hold him close as he convulses. “I can’t take it anymore!” JJ wails, your tears land on his shoulders, and his tears land on yours. “I was gonna kill him!”

Kie is next to join you, jumping into the steaming water and embracing the both of you. Pope follows.

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“Shh, JJ, I know. I know” You coo him, trying to calm his weeping.

After minutes of holding him, Kie announces that she has to head home, and Pope offers to drive her. JJ rests in a nearly catatonic state in your arms, no doubt exhausted and knowing JJ, not ready to face the fact that he just broke down in front of his friends.

The pair leaves bidding reassuring words to JJ, and a few more hugs.

You are left in the hot tub, holding the blond boy as he clutches onto you. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his breaths were rapid and heavy as he was shaken, the events of the day had caught up to him in the form of you and your tears. He begins to spew soft “I’m sorry”s and other apologises, but his panic makes him stutter and his sentences start to lack direction.

You shush him and direct the boy to listen to your heartbeat, trying your best to bring his shattered thoughts back to earth.

“JJ, we should get out of the hottub.” You tell him, to which he simply sniffles and nods, unsure of how to speak to you after the horrible things he said to you, and his inability to form a proper apology. He knew that you were nothing like he had depicted, yet he said what he said, and there was no taking it back.

His skin was red from the overheated water, and it itched with chlorine, so as the two of you entered the chateau, you started the shower.

“You should rinse off the chlorine.” You told him, not sure of how to speak to him either. He followed your order and stripped of his bathing suit. You were able to track down clothes for him to sleep in, and as you waltzed back into the bathroom, you decided you couldn’t leave him alone in the shower.

Taking off your soaked clothes quickly, you slip into the shower to find JJ standing still under the water. You snake your arms around his torso, careful of the bruises pressing your chest to his back. His hands find yours he holds them tight. You place a kiss on his spine, then rest your head where your lips touched.

“I’m so sorry” He croaked, his voice was tired, worn out from the day.

“JJ-”

“No stop Y/N” He turns around to face you, grabbing your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have never said any of those things about you, none of them were true, it's just that, its,” He stumbles on his words. You rub his back to ground him again, he takes a deep breath. “It's just that you do deserve better than me.”

“JJ please-” He doesn’t let you continue.

“No you do, Y/N you do. You deserve so much better than me, than this life, than what I can give you. You don’t deserve some, broken kid that's never getting off the cut, you don’t deserve, to, have to watch as I steal money from drug dealers, you don’t deserve any of the shit that I know that I put you through you just, you deserve better, better than someone who doesn’t come close to deserving you.”

The tears streaming down both of your faces mix with the water coming from the shower and you have no idea how to make his saddening speech stop.

“JJ” You sob, he pauses. “You deserve so much more, than what your life has given you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved JJ, you deserve everything that you want, why can’t you see that?”

And instantly you feel stupid for asking. JJ’s eyes wander and find the bruises littering his body, answering your question. You stifle another sob as your eyes graze his battered skin.

“Listen to me.” You demand his attention. “You are not worthless.” His eyes divert from yours as he realises what you’re referring to. “JJ look at me,” After a moment or two, his gaze wearily finds yours. “You are not worthless, you are worthy of love, and affection, and someone who takes care of you, and not only are you worthy but you deserve it too. Do you hear me?”

JJ swallows thickly, nodding in acceptance of your beautiful words. He embraces you tightly, having no words of his own. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel worthy of the good that was before him.

He was hesitant to think that he deserved you. To him, no one was good enough to actually deserve you, especially not him. However your speech made him open to the idea that maybe he was at least worthy of your love.

Your love.

You both realised in the same moment that the word was shared between you. You had never shared the faithful declaration of love to each other since you had been together romantically, and yet now you had mentioned love twice in the span of thirty seconds. JJ smiled as he held you. You loved him, and this was one of the ways that you showed it.

“Let's get the chlorine out of your hair J.”

He let you massage his scalp with the shampoo that he's seen you use before to get pool chemicals out of your hair. He didn’t really know what it did or how it was different from other shampoos but, it smelled like you and he loved getting his head rubbed. His breathing was still shaky, but he finally felt some of his anxiety from the day wearing off. Fighting with you was something he never wanted to do again. Fighting with his dad was something he knew he would have to do the next time he went home. He elected to ignore those thoughts, as your fingers worked magic on his hair, seemingly drawing all of the negative ideas out of his head along with the chlorine.

As JJ rinsed his hair of soap, he noticed you reaching for the bottle again, no doubt to wash your own hair. He holds out his hand, wordlessly asking if he could wash your hair for you, like you had done for him. This makes you grin as you hand him the bottle. JJ then realises that he doesn’t really know how to do what you did for him. That kind of small, soft, intimate touching was foreign to him.

He squeezes way too much shampoo into his hand, but you pay that no mind. He starts slow, trying to remember the way your fingers moved on his scalp, but in the end knowing that he just wasn’t good at giving head massages.

“I used way too much.” He states, watching as suds continue to produce from your locks.

“It’s okay.” You hum watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. “I set out clothes for you when you’re ready, I’m probably gonna be another minute” You tell him, referring to the other bottles you had in the shower that you still had to use.

“Okay, thank you” He kisses you as he exits the shower. You finish up quickly, wanting to be next to him, and hoping that his thoughts as he sits alone don’t carry him away like they had before.

You find that he left his tee shirt for you, like he had on nights before. You wear the shirt that smelled of him along with a pair of comfortable running shorts and head to the spare bedroom of the chateau that JJ called his most nights.

You spot JJ sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You slowly and carefully climb onto his lap, straddling him and holding his head close to your chest. You notice anxiety still radiating off of him.

“Hey,” You start softly. “It’s okay, everythings okay-”

“I love you” He states bluntly as he picks up his head from your chest.

“What?” You stumble, surprised at his outburst.

“I love you, and I want to be with you, like, publically, or whatever. I wanna tell the Pouges and-” before he starts rambling, you stop him.

“I love you too JJ.” This pauses him.

“Say it again.”

You giggle, but inhale, knowing that he needs to hear it.

“JJ.” You start. “I love you.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, eyes watering for the millionth time.

“I still don’t think that I deserve this.” He admits, looking into your eyes with his crystal clear blue ones.

“You do.” You push his hair back from his face. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you do.”

He was hesitant to accept everything that you had said to him that day, but he never doubted that you would give him your all. This was all he needed to know before he allowed himself fully over to you, kissing you with more desperation and love than ever before.

“I love you so much.” You muttered into his lips, and from that day on, you would say it again and again, as many times as he needed to hear it. A constant reminder to him that he was deserving and worthy of good, of love, and of you.

Taglist: @maybe-maybanks @myrandom-fandomlife

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj #maybank #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj fanfiction #obx #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx jj #jj maybank x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow fic

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quinntheebrain · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! I was wondering if you could do a jealous bokuto x f!reader (preferably if not then gn! is fine). Like he gets jealous of his bby and kuroo getting along really well... a little too well lmao. Anyways, I hope your day/night is going great ya wonderful person <3

Pairing: Jealous!Bokuto Kōtarō x fem!reader

Warnings: implied alcohol use, a temporarily sad Bokuto, Ummm I curse????

A/N: *deep heavy sigh* I looked over this 1000x lmfao. I’m used to writing fics and not hcs, so they’re probably not the best (I gotta stop doubting myself). I’m always so nervous to share my writings, but this a learning process! Thanks for being my first request. It’s been a while since I wrote anything seriously and shared it. I really hope you enjoy it :) Also, somebody else (who I can’t think of rn) hc that Bokuto doesn’t drink, I just agree wholeheartedly.

Oh, my precious baby Bokuto. He’s so cute it hurts🥺.

He gets jealous easily.

He’s so lively that people naturally gravitate toward him. So, he’s used to being the center of attention.

Even though the only person’s attention he really cares about is yours.

Bokuto loves the way you look at him when he makes you smile. He loves the feeling of just being in your presence.

So, when he sees you and Kuroo smiling and laughing from across the bar he’s irritated.

And when the two of you get a little too close for comfort, he’s fuming

...but for some reason, I feel like he wouldn’t say anything

Now, Bokuto would normally shut that shit down instantly.

But it’s Kuroo, his closest friend. He doesn’t want any kind of confrontation. He doesn’t want to cause a scene (I believe Bokuto could beat Kuroo’s ass)

So, he says nothing and instead spends the night alternating between super soft/affectionate and super distant.

He’ll bring it up in private though. Half-jokingly asking if you’d prefer Kuroo to him.

And when the conversation turns serious

Don’t invalidate his feelings, don’t make him feel crazy. (he’ll curl up in a ball and it will be a long time before he opens up to you again)

RE-AS-SUR-ANCE!!!!!!!! He needs it; he will die without it. Please just tell this boy how much you love him.

And please believe he doesn’t blame you alone. He talks to Kuroo after he talks to you.

Because next time, Bokuto won’t be so nice :)

This is the third time Kuroo has put his arm around you; Bokuto is counting. He watches you from across the room as he holds a conversation with Akaashi; though, at this point, his friend’s words are nothing more than background noise.

You are supposed to be with them, but once Kuroo challenges you to a drinking contest, Bokuto knows it’s a lost cause. You promise to join him shortly and though he doesn’t believe you, he nods as if he does. Unlike you, and most of his friends, Bokuto doesn’t drink; he just doesn’t like the taste, but he wants you to have a good time. So, he goes to sit with Akaashi by himself but not before leaning down and pulling you into a soft kiss. Bokuto’s large palm caresses your cheek as his mouth moves delicately against your own; It’s quick and gentle, but it’s effective. His lips linger on yours just long enough to leave you wanting more; it’s a reminder that he’ll be waiting for you.

But, 15 minutes have passed and you’re still glued to Kuroo’s side.

Now, you’re a giggling mess, teasing one of your boyfriend’s closest friends, who seems to be enjoying the attention a little too much. The rest of their volleyball buddies watch and laugh, most of them far too inebriated to find anything wrong with the way the two of you are interacting. Bokuto, on the other hand, finds everything wrong with it. He watches you with narrow eyes and tightly clenched fists, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

“Your jealousy is showing,” Akaashi smirks at his best friend; Bokuto hasn’t been listening to a word he says. He wants to tease him about it but now doesn’t seem like the time. “Why don’t you just tell them it’s bothering you?”

“They’re not doing it on purpose,” Bokuto sighs as he unclenches his fists, wiggling his fingers to crack his knuckles. “Besides, there was a time she couldn’t even be in the same room as Kuroo. I’m glad they’re friends now and if I say something I might ruin it.” he looks away from you and instead focuses on the ground.

“Forget about Kuroo,” Akaashi says, slightly irritated. “What about you? If you don’t talk to her, you might ruin your relationship. You don’t want to harbor resentment toward the one you love,” Akaashi glances at Bokuto, who is unable to reply. They stand in silence for a short time. Akaashi doesn’t want to bombard Bokuto with advice; he knows that sometimes, a few thoughtful words are enough. “Look, it’ll be okay. I have to go.” Akaashi pats Bokuto’s shoulder, leaving him alone to think about the situation.

Bokuto is truly happy that you and Kuroo have finally learned to get along but deep down, a part of him wishes the two of you never stopped the incessant bickering; part of him wishes that you still disliked Kuroo and he disliked you. Maybe, the petty arguments were nothing but an attempt to mask the attraction you felt toward each other but honestly, that’s what Bokuto would prefer. Because what’s happening now — you and Kuroo openly fawning over each other — is driving him crazy.

I’m just imagining things, he thinks to himself. Maybe, there is no real meaning to the way the two of you are carrying on; but, watching as Kuroo embraces you in a hug that lingers a little longer than it should doesn’t ease his mind. Your face buried into Kuroo’s chest, his hands pressed firmly against your lower back as he rocks you side to side, it’s a bit more than Bokuto can handle. The thought of you in someone else’s arms so intimately bothers him, and pulling out your phone to take Kuroo’s contact info is the icing on the cake.

Still, you’d never know how much it affects Bokuto because he approaches you like there’s nothing wrong, and though he tugs you away from Kuroo rather possessively, he does it with the brightest smile. “Alright, ready babe?” He looks down to you with those golden eyes, glimmering with adoration as he places a kiss on your forehead. You nod ‘yes’ quickly. “See you later, bro.” you both wave at his friends once more before the two of you exit the bar.

A weight lifts from Bokuto’s shoulders as the door shuts behind him; the absence of his best friend shouldn’t put him at ease, but it does. Still, Bokuto has another problem.

You don’t want to harbor resentment toward the one you love. Akaashi’s words play in his head like a broken record. If he doesn’t settle this now, he never will. His insecurities will continue to fester until he can no longer look at you the same.

“You and Kuroo were pretty cozy tonight,” he fakes a chuckle as he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “I’m glad you two are so close now.”

“Cozy?” you scrunch up your face. You could count the number of times Kuroo touched you on one hand (which was still too many for Bokuto). You will admit that you spent an unusual amount of time with Kuroo, but he’s more entertaining when he’s drunk; it’s actually your favorite time to be around him. “Hardly. If anything,” you pause, “Wait a minute. Ko, are you jealous?” you manage to suppress your smile, but there's a hint of amusement in your tone.

He doesn’t answer your question; it’s embarrassing enough to even be feeling this way and for you to call him out so quickly only makes it worse. He takes a deep breath, “Y/N,” Bokuto’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think you’d be better off with Kuroo? I mean the two of you actually have a lot in common, and I just think-” the words sound crazy now that he’s finally saying them out loud.

“No,” you say sternly and confidently, cutting off your boyfriend before he has the chance to ramble on. It’s reassuring how quick you are to shut the notion down. “Besides, we really only have one thing in common,” you pause in your tracks, forcing Bokuto to stop and look at you.

“What’s that?”

“We both love you so much,” you can’t help but smile as you speak. Bokuto has such amazing people in his life and that warms your heart. “We would never try to hurt you; I would never try to hurt you. I’m so sorry for even making you feel like that.” the apology is sincere. Your glossy eyes are a giveaway. “If I haven’t made this clear, you are the only one for me. It’s you and me, together forever,” he wipes away a single tear; you hadn’t even realized you were crying. You never wanted to make him feel this way; he’s never sounded so defeated. Was he going to just hand you over to his best friend? Did he think you would accept that? “But really, Kuroo?” you pretend to vomit to lighten the mood. It makes you both laugh, something you desperately needed.

“I love you,” Bokuto sighs in relief.

“I love you too.” flinging your arms around his neck, you kiss him.

There’s something almost enchanting about the way he immediately takes the lead. He doesn’t care about the taste of liquor that lingers in your mouth or the fact that you still smell like Kuroo’s cologne; at this moment, Bokuto only cares about you. His lips glide over yours passionately, yet ever so gently; your tongue sporadically teases his bottom lip, his teeth occasionally nibble on yours. It’s a steady rhythm that makes you weak in the knees. His hands find their way to your waist, then to your back, sliding down until they’re secure in your back pockets.

Bokuto pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. “Let’s get home, yeah?” he squeezes your ass before he removes his hands from your pocket; intertwining his fingers with yours, Bokuto starts to walk again.

“Yeah,” you repeat with a smile on your face, nodding eagerly as he pulls you down the sidewalk.

#bokuto x fem!reader #jealous!bokuto #bokuto imagines #bokuto kotaro x fem!reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #v nervous #bokuto x reader

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deleteddewewted · 4 years ago

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Incel!Shinsou Oneshot: "Why are you acting like that?”

To keep busy I just thought that a oneshot of Shinsou getting self conscious/needy would be cute since we already have his redemption arc rolling in. The next part of the Incel!Shinsou series (Part 3) will have him proving his worth at the Sports Festival. So in thinking of how he will prove himself to you I thought of how will all of those people affect him, especially you. ( This oneshot takes place pre changes, so Shinsou is still his disgusting self but he's figuring out how to woo a woman, especially of your caliber.)

Incel!Shinsou Series:

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 2: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Incel!Shinsou Headcanons

"I know what you're doin' here. Made your intentions clear. Oh you, you terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Beautiful thing"

TW: Strong Language, Mild Sexism

People were never an obstacle when it came to the things Shinsou wanted. He’s aware that others would do anything for him if he played his cards right. The right words with the right question did wonders for him. So why the fuck couldn’t he have what he wanted when it came to you? You drove him up the wall with the kindness you showed him. He didn’t deserve it and you’re existence almost felt like a punishment from whatever deity that existed out there to make him suffer. You guys were suppose to be studying for your upcoming project that required a poster, a slide show, and one influential person that would help prove your projects point. You left him running circles within his own mind as to how you were so willing to challenge him. He wanted you to obey him not see through his bullshit. It wasn’t like you didn’t listen to him vent, or didn't give him attention, but he wanted to hold you under his control. To be the person you listened to.

In class you where both seated on the extreme ends of the room on opposite sides. You never realized this (you do), but his head would periodically turn towards your direction to look at you, to figure you out (liar). This time, you managed to catch him do it.

“What are you doing?” You asked plainly. You honestly didn’t care that he was staring, everyone does when you dress like you're attending an MCR concert in the middle of autumn.

“You look different....today.”

“Nice.” It was difficult to care. Shinsou was just some guy in your class that you had to deal with. Nothing special really....ok, maybe it wasn’t fully true. You didn’t really know him all that well or anything (Unless it was mocking and belittling everything you did, that was normal behavior for him so it wasn’t surprising to find out he was like that outside of campus.) but he wasn’t all that bad? If he cared for himself a bit more, hygiene wise he would be considered handsome or at least a competent human being (you weren't going to call him a man, men don't act this childish. At least the ones you knew.) Maybe then you would take his opinion seriously, but for now you’ll ignore his...interesting comments he's been throwing towards you today.

“It’s rude to ignore someone when their talking to you, you know?” The neutral face he had now possessed a frown and a furrow to his brows. You still couldn’t process how he took the time to make sure his hair stayed purple but didn’t care for his body odor. (This man dyes his hair purple yet cant bother to shower or use deodorant for once in his life.)

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not interested in anything you have to say.” With that you get up and take your things and leave. There was no point in wasting time on someone who couldn’t even look at you directly and had to also sneak glances at you. "Do I really look that unbearable?" you thought to yourself. In the end you didn’t care anymore, everyone was entitled to an opinion and the last thing you need is feeling self conscious because of your out of place classmate.

Shinsou was fuming. How the fuck did you just get up and leave his ass while he was trying to complement you. You should have been more appreciative that he was giving you his attention for once. A bitch like you wasn't even worth it so he doesn't understand why he even tried with you.

He never goes directly home after school but instead to the local theater. It was one of the few places where he could be around others and could genuinely be himself. It was weird, he didn't feel like himself when he was speaking with his "friends", friends that he's never spoken to verbally, never seen, and never would meet. He knew that he didn't deserve this, to have a safe haven when he acts like an ass, yet here he was.

"Good morning Shinsou! How are you? Are you ready for rehearsals? You did remember to read your lines, right?" Shinsou rolls his eyes at his theater mates antics. Monoma never seems to stop but he does know when to tone it down and when it comes to Shinsou he tones it down a bit. (Because Monoma is canonically considerate of others, look back the Sports Festival and the Joint Training Arc.)

"Im good man, yes i did read and memorized the script, dont worry about it." What an odd friendship, the most chaotic gentleman like man out the bunch with the quietist incel in the group. Shinsou should have seen it coming when he was adopted by Monoma but he's running on 2 to 4 hours of sleep so he doesn't really care.

Believe it or not Shinsou does take showers (only for theater) but very quickly and with no care (no shampoo or soap, fucking why man.) Theater means more to him and so making his character look the best they possible can was his first and foremost priority. He puts on his costume, gets to makeup (the minimum, because it's "gay" for him to wear makeup and since the world is unfair and cruel he has perfect skin for a greasy headed asshole.)

"Everyone get a move on! Kodai, Tsuburaba, and Awase! Go to stage left! Light techs, how's it up there?" One of the tech heads shouted out. Shinsou and Monoma got to their positions on the stage and the rehearsals began.

Love, the play was about love. Love that wasn't rejected but also not accepted. He didn't understand the concept fully. Was it romantic? Platonic? Familiar? Admiration? He loved his dad, but he mostly admired him. He worked long hours and middle resents him for not being there for him, yet he realizes that his dad works to give him the world, a home with all the things he wanted. He never had a mother so he never had parental or familiar, again his dad was there but he wanted a parent that would hold him when he came back from school everyday. He didn't have a girlfriend, so he doesn't know romantic. So far all of his characters where villains, or evil in some way. He was starting to get sick of them. Shinsou wanted something more, wanted to play a character that wasn't how everyone saw him as on his day to day life. He wanted a challenge, he wanted....affection. Just to show it. He wanted attraction. Just to abuse it. He wanted...love. To just...maybe...feel...enjoy...understand it.

"You terrible thing you. My love, you're so cold. You've left me hanging on every one of your words. You've made me loose my self, lose my self-control because of you!" He pours everything into his performance, his loneliness, his regrets, his experience. He's been told by his co-performers and directors that he has a great future in the arts, in theater. If he just took care of himself more he would be an amazing actor, not only incredibly talented but also attractive. He would have the world kneeling, bowing to him just from his words alone. He could have anything he wanted just because of his existence.

" You've made me do things i don't want to do...for you." Kodai stands there looking horrified. He's covered in blood, the blood of her lover, the one she left him for.

"No, i-i didn't-"

"YOU MADE ME-MADE DO THIS FOR YOU! You terrible, terrible, terrible thing! You beautiful thing, I've done this for you!...and you still cant and won't love me." He doesn't see Kodai anymore. It's not her face he sees, nor her voice that he hears.

Its you...its your voice. You. You looking back at him while he slowly lowered himself to kneel and crawl towards you. It's you who backs away from him as he starts to cry and hiccup.

"You wreck me, you made me. You leave me in your wake, please let me go!" He sees you and feels you grabbing his wrists back, pushing him into himself.

"Don't you ever let me go...."

You terrible beautiful thing, you.

And here we are again. This was a lot fun to write since it feels more concrete when it comes towards his personality and his full thought process. In many cases people like Shinsou just want attention or some sense of validation, which there is nothing wrong with wanting those things but it's more about the manner you go about it. You shouldn't pressure or force others to spend time with you, but there is always someone out there that will like to give you those things.

Tag list: @blossominglark

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sapphicquill · 4 years ago

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TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.”

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face.

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that.

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson.

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.)

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly.

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth.

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two.

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go.

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops?

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated.

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—”

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus.

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?”

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder.

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks.

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind.

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save.

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well?

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.”

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether.

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak.

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up.

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else.

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst.

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic?

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that.

“I—what?”

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes.

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—”

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off.

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?”

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells.

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream.

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it.

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying.

He’s absolutely not lying.

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second.

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable.

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest.

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness.

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go.

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs.

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #taz fic #the adventure zone fanfic #taz tickle fic #taagnitz #lee taako #ler kravitz #ler magnus #it's happened #it's here #my first official tk fic #posted in celebration of national tickling day because of course #sapphicquillfics

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clefairymuke · 4 years ago

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regrets | chapter three

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1760

Levi's words had undeniably left you a bit shaken; this contributed to the pit in your stomach when you approached his door for the second time that day. Something about the way he glared at you -- so angry yet calm, terrifying yet serene -- had been the frontmost thing in your mind all day. His eyes cut straight through you in a way that you had never experienced. You nearly shivered as you raised your hand to knock on the door. You knocked twice and stood back, waiting for him to say, "Come in."

He didn't, though. He opened the door within moments, like he had been waiting. He looked different now. He was not wearing his typical uniform and cravat combo, which you thought made him look like a dunce anyways. He was dressed in a simple grey long-sleeve shirt and brown pants. On his feet were a pair of white socks. When your eyes came to his face, you noticed that his hair was a bit messy. If he wasn't such a pain in your ass, he might have been somewhat attractive.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say something?" he asked, breaking you from your unknowing trance of studying him. And with that, all of your musing about him disappeared and he was back to being the bane of your existence.

"I was just trying to figure out how you managed to pull that stupid tie from around your neck without having a conniption. I thought you probably showered in it," you told him as he stood back to let you in. The room was as you left it last, completely tidy.

"How did you make it this far being this disrespectful?"

"A lot of determination. So what exactly am I to clean?" You looked around searching for even a speck of dust. None was to be found.

He scoffed at you. "Do you honestly think I sleep, cook, and shower at this very desk? Believe it or not, I function pretty similarly to the average human being. I did say you would be cleaning the entire suite."

"Okay, asshole. You don't have to make me feel like an idiot." You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks and tried desperately to fight it off, if such a thing was possible.

"It's easier because you truly are one."

"An idiot?"

"That is what I said. Do you have hearing problems, brat?" He combed a piece of hair out of his face as you huffed. "Can you just get to cleaning and get the fuck out of my hair? If you would just be obedient and stop doing stupid shit, we'd never have to be in this situation again."

"If you would've minded your own business and let us have a little extra food, we wouldn't have to be anywhere near each other, either!" You threw your hands up in an overly exaggerated shrug. Messing with Levi was no longer fun. It was utterly infuriating. "What do you care if I'm a little disobedient? How does it affect you, Levi?"

"For the last time, you will refer to me as your Captain. And that is exactly why it matters to me. You will not ignore my authority. I will have your respect, feigned or otherwise." He was glaring at you again, the same look in his eyes from earlier. You tried to match his intensity as you scraped the bottom of your soul for as much courage as you could muster.

"What have you done to make me respect you, Levi? It isn't like you respect me. Or anybody. You don't watch your words for anyone, what makes you think you deserve for me to watch mine because of a stupid title?" You were absolutely fuming with rage towards the man in front of you. His muscles were tense and his jaw was clenched tightly. You wondered if you had seen Levi angry now. Would he be able to make the same threatening comment after this interaction?

Within a second, he had you frozen. He said your name roughly, almost as a growl, and was now so close the ends of his hair brushed your cheeks. "You will not speak to me this way. Continue to treat your superiors as peers. You won't make it past the first mission. Do not become a casualty over a stupid fucking complex." You were sure he was angry now. Your blood was running cold against your will. "Stop looking for attention. If you keep going down this path, the most you will get is at your funeral in the very near future."

For the first time, you had no snark reply to his rage-inducing words. All you truly wanted to do was hit him. It was nearly impossible not to. Your fists were so harshly clenched you could feel the crescent-shaped wounds forming on your palms. All you could form a coherent thought to say was, "Fuck you, Levi."

He backed up, likely for your safety. His hand rose to grip his hair as he exhaled slowly. "Get the hell out. I can't stand to look at you. Forget your punishment. You cannot fix blatant stupidity."

You accepted his invitation and stormed towards the door, Levi following closely behind. he reached in front of you and practically tore the door off of the wall, slamming it as soon as your feet planted in the hallway.

You wanted to scream.

---

You sat in a pile of hay at the stables, still filled with anger. You had no way to release it except pressing your fingernails deeper into your palms as you replayed the fight over and over in your brain. You wanted to storm back up to his room and punch him in the face. You despised the smug look on his face as he taunted you. He could dish out any disrespect he wanted, but as soon as you returned the favor, you may as well be dead.

You heard hay rustling a few yards away. You stood quietly, one hand on the hilt of one of your swords and the other on the trigger for your ODM gear. You began to walk slowly towards the noise, saying, "Hello?" when you drew near. You could see a figure, but it was too dark to know who it was for sure.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were on stables tonight."

It was Eren. He was brushing the mane of a horse as he spoke. You let your guard down.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked rather harshly. You hadn't meant to say it so angrily.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" he questioned, placing the brush on the rack to his left and stepping away from the horse. You leaned against the wall next to him.

"I really, really hate Captain Levi," you told him honestly, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers.

"Hey, me too. But what's your reasoning?" He kind of laughed with his words, cheering you up a bit.

You told him the story. By the end, you were sitting together in the hay. When you finished, you placed your hands behind your head and leaned back until you were laying down, facing the stars. Eren followed suit.

"Trust me, I get it," he told you, a smile hinting in his voice. "He publicly beat the shit out of me. He's not exactly in my top ten favorite people." You laughed, your first time smiling since breakfast. "I don't even think you have a top ten, Eren. Maybe a top two."

"Nah, you're up there somewhere. Probably Reiner and Bertholdt, too. Make it a top five." He looked over at you, pulling his eyes away from the night sky. You did the same. You noticed his eyes were a really pretty green. Jean would puke if he knew you had really just thought that. You chuckled at the thought.

"What have I done to get into Eren Jeager's top five?" you asked him, interested. The two of you hadn't really talked previously.

"Well," he stretched a bit, his shirt lifting to expose a bit of his stomach, "your awful taste in friends aside, you seem like a good person. Fun. Smart. Interesting. Typical top five traits. Your looks definitely aren't a detriment."

You hoped he couldn't see you blush in the dark surrounding you. "Jean would kill me if he knew we were hanging out right now." It was true, but you mostly wanted to redirect the conversation. Eren basically telling you that you were pretty made you happy and made you want to crawl into a deep, dark hole at the same time. Emotions and compliments were not your strong suit.

"Jean doesn't have to know everything, you know. Mikasa wouldn't be a big fan, either." You thought about that for a moment.

"Mikasa is in love with you. Jean hates your guts. There's a bit of a difference in their reasoning, I would say," you told him, grinning.

He ignored your comment about Mikasa and focused on you, instead. "Sure, Jean hates me. But do you?" He looked at you expectantly, his green eyes growing larger.

You looked away for a moment, embarrassed. Then you looked back and met his gaze. "No, I don't suppose I do. Should I?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't, honestly. You're pretty fun to talk to." His lips pulled into a smile as he looked at you meekly. You would typically describe Eren as anything but meek. It suited him.

You looked at each other for a few moments. You noticed how his hair fell messily over his forehead, almost touching his eyebrows. It looked nice shaggier like that. You, for whatever reason, found yourself hoping he didn't cut it anytime soon. He had a slender nose that came to a nice point above his cupid's bow. His lips were slightly parted. They looked inviting.

After a comfortable silence, you finally said, "Jean doesn't make my decisions for me, you know. Nobody does."

You saw his eyes moving slowly, studying your face. You didn't try to prevent yourself from blushing this time. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why is that?" you asked as his face drew closer to yours. Suddenly, Eren was kissing you. Your face grew hot as he pulled away, but you put your hands behind his head and pulled him back towards you. As his hand traveled under your shirt, your worries about explaining this to Jean faded away completely.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yeager #snk #snk x reader #enemies to lovers #slowburn

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

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Anonymous asked: “40. “I’ll admit, that was a good hit. But now you’re gonna pay.”, Shinsou? Thx :)”

Hitoshi Shinsou x f!Reader

a/n: I don’t usually do this kind of characterization for Shinsou, but I wanted to spice things up a little. Hope you don’t mind!

Warnings: kinda scumbag Shinsou, almost spankings but i end it before they start

The second your hand collided with his face, the sound of it ringing throughout the kitchen, you knew you were done for. An icy fear coursed through your veins, and despite the reasoning for your attack being valid in your mind, it didn’t quite matter.

It wasn’t your place to fight back. He thought he’d nailed that fact into you by now, given all of the ‘lessons’ he’d put you through. But, as it would turn out, you would still need some disciplining.

Right now, your transgression was entirely unwelcome. Done against what he thought was a small, maybe slightly suggestive gesture on his part―one that he assumed you’d let slide for the freedoms we was giving you.

Letting you into the kitchen, to be precise. To make your own meal, instead of him doing it for you. A small grant of autonomy, in hopes of making him more favourable in your eyes. Shinsou thought it deserved some repayment―harmless ‘affection.’

But it wasn’t harmless to you. The way his hands snaked around your waist, sidling up behind you as you worked at the counter. That could’ve been ignored, you tried to ignore it. Yet, you should’ve known that nothing came easily with him.

Shinsou was supposed to let you make yourself lunch. He was supposed to leave you be, to bask in the small freedom he allowed. But, of course, he couldn’t help himself.

And it was partly his fault―dressing you up in such revealing clothing. The babydoll dress that was just a little too see through. It didn’t leave much to the imagination. Not how it rose high up your thighs, or how he could make out the design of your lace panties through the sheer material.

Really, he was setting himself up for failure. For the most part, he reasoned, since it did give him an excuse to punish you. And oh, did he ever enjoy doing that.

You couldn’t hold back once you felt his growing hard on pressing into your backside, him peering over your shoulder innocently while you worked. It disgusted you, so naturally your next move was to whip around, pushing away from him.

Your face was riddled with appallment. But Shinsou’s?

The smug upturn of his lips told you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Seeing your expression, he let out a small laugh, finding amusement in the whole thing. “C’mon, kitten. Don’t look at me like that.”

The self restraint to hold back from lashing out at the man was breaking down, having been lured into something sweet, only to find hideous intentions lying in wait.

“...Go fuck yourself.”

Your words did little to deter him. If anything, it only egged him on further.

He took a step closer, which you returned with a few back. Only, you were quickly stopped, as your back hit the counter’s edge.

That sinister smile had yet to leave his face. “That’s not very nice, I thought I taught you better than that.” In a second, his hands were on your hips, looking down on you with those darkened amethyst eyes. “I think I deserve a little more respect than that...especially since I’ve been so good to you lately.”

Taking what he wanted, not an uncommon occurrence, his hand drifted. Behind to your back, and then lower―cupping the flesh of your ass and not so gently squeezing.

That’s why you hit him, a moment of clarity, or maybe just blind adrenaline. Something that pulled you out of your complacent stupor. Only, perhaps remaining in it was for the better.

Shinsou’s head stayed turned, jolted by the impact. You would’ve preferred that he got angry with you. That he yelled at you, fumed with displeasement like he’d done before.

Instead, he scoffed. His eyes returned to your rigid form, regarding you more like prey, and less like someone who he claimed he loved.

Before you could react, a hand gripped your hair and began dragging you away from the countertop. You wailed in pain, thrashing in his grip, although it wasn’t like your resistance did much in the face of his immense physical strength.

He threw you roughly on top of the kitchen table, pressing you down face first onto the surface with a hand between your shoulder blades. Your legs still dangled off the edge, tippy toes barely connecting with the tiled floor.

You knew that despite what had just happened, he hadn’t lost his cool. Shinsou hadn’t gotten furious, spewing insults you were all too familiar with. He was calm―and that was what scared you.

The steadiness in his voice, the playful lilt. Too many signs to show that you’d pushed him too far, even with this one small incident. And, that you were in for a much worse punishment than usual.

“I’ll admit, that was a good hit...”

You felt the hem of your dress fly up, settling on your waist. Calloused fingers reached underneath the fabric of your panties, yanking them down until they were pooling at your ankles. The cold air hitting your bare skin sent your mind relapsing on the memories where you were once in a similar and painful position.

Bruised for days, unable to sit straight.

But in the end, he was pleased. It made up for your transgression.

And you realized, once again, that such a thing wasn’t worth it to piss him off, even if it seemed ideal in the moment.

“...But now you’re gonna pay.”

#yandere bnha #yandere shinsou hitoshi #yandere shinsou #yandere hitoshi shinsou #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #yandere #yandere writing #yanderecore #yandere fanfiction

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hey-there-love · 4 years ago

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Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 4: Fine. Fight Me

Content Warning: adult language, Cringy Situations, slight mentions of grinding

WC: 1.4K

AN: This is what I was listening to when I wrote this :)

It was a restless sleep to say the least. First you were hot, then you were cold. Hours of tossing and turning had passed until you finally realized you weren’t going back to sleep. You stared out the window at the night sky for a while contemplating on what to with yourself.

Glancing at your phone to check the time, it indicated that there was still an hour until sunrise. You huffed and swung your feet over the edge of the bed. You padded quietly to the bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the brightness.

You examined yourself in the mirror. You had faint dark circles under your eyes and disgusting eye boogers. You must have slept hard for the time you did sleep. Quickly you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Feeling slightly better, you brushed your hair and threw it up to get it out of your face.

When you retreated back to your room you opted to change your tank top into a sports bra with a loose cropped top. You put in your contacts carefully infront of the mirror hanging infront of your closet. Sliding some socks on, you picked up a pair of sneakers and headphones. Deciding to begin your work out, you took the three flights of stairs to the gym.

You paused for a moment infront of the gym doors to lace up your shoes. Making your way inside an audible gasp escaped you. The room was filled with expensive equipment. Rows of treadmills, bikes, bench presses, you name it, gleamed. “Planet Fitness doesn’t have shit on this place.” You drooled.

Finding an empty spot on the floor you began stretching. Once you were warmed up, your eyes darted from one thing to the next. Settling on running a few miles, you chose the treadmill in the corner, facing the wall. You clicked on your work out playlist and turned the volume up loud. You found you could think better with music flowing through your ears than silence.

You jogged for about 20 minutes before shifting to a run. The to do list for today formed rapidly in your head. You needed to buy the essentials, obtain a residency card and a metro pass, pick up your uniforms, and locate your hero costume. You didn’t exactly know where to go for any of these things, but you knew you needed to call Mr. Aizawa about the last part.

You began to think about your costume. You loved it with every fiber of your being. Designing it yourself, It was made to be a simple yet functional long sleeved black bodysuit. The sides were a breathable sapphire colored material. You adorned the same colored high boots with a thick heel that made it easy to run. Blue goggles were made especially to protect your eyesight from diminishing more, thick insulated gloves helped form your UV light, and a utility belt to hold your smaller support items.

Lost in your thoughts you realized you had ran about two miles and you were loosing steam. You turned off the treadmill, and tried to catch your breath. Your muscles ached and you shirt was sticking to your back. You felt gross. Closing your eyes you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face.

When you turned around and opened your eyes there stood Bakugo in all his shirtless glory. “Ugh, don’t look!” You cried out and pulled your shirt down, attempting to stretch the thin, white fabric over your stomach. If you weren’t mortified you probably would have tried to sneak a peak yourself. His cheeks dusted with a heavy blush as he dropped his weights onto the floor.

“I wasn’t fucking looking! You’re the one who flashed me!” He shouted, defensive he had been caught.

“I thought I was alone!” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to make yourself feel small. You had a banging body that you weren’t ashamed of, but your cleavage hanging out of an old, ratty sports bra infront of a guy you didn’t know was a different story.

“You live with 20 extras! You’re never alone!” Bakugo argued. He stared at the floor, not making eye contact with you.

“Clearly!” Your own blush not faltering. “How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough to hear the whole rendition of that Chris Brown song. Jesus, I thought some stray dogs were going to break in.” He laughed. You threw your head into your hands. You had to get out of here.

You hastily made your way to the exit. “Go to hell.” You called over your shoulder.

“See you there, Cherry. ” Bakugo called after you. You paused dead in your tracks, anger taking over you.

“You just always have to get the last word in don’t you?” You were fuming at this point. You never let anything bother you, but you had enough. He didn’t have to be rude to you all the time.

“You started it.” Bakugo grunted, now gaining his full attention once again. “ Look, I don’t care who the hell you are or where the hell you came from, we can go right here. Right now.” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, maintaining a hardened stance.

Turning on your heel, you stomped towards him. He was built and had the advantage of a few inches on his side, but that didn’t matter. You had taken on far scarier enemies. Your gaze bore into his. Without breaking eye contact, you responded. “Fine. Fight me.”

You could have sworn your answer took him by surprise. His face faltered slightly before turning back into the grimace he wore well. “No quirks. I’ll be damned if I pay for one more thing in this shithole.”

“I don’t need it.” You hissed. Taking him by surprise you hit him in the face, hard. He groaned, but it didn’t affect him as much as you were hoping. Bakugo countered and hit you with a jab to the side. Thank god something told you to move so when he connected with you there was only half the impact.

You two were going at it hard. Every move he made you matched. It was a pretty equal fight overall. You didn’t hold anything back. You let out all your aggressions and frustrations onto him. He took them in stride. If you weren’t so focused on winning this battle you might have realized you were having fun.

“This is all you’ve got, Cherry?” Bakugo taunted as he blocked another one of your punches. You knew you needed to end it fast because you didn’t have a whole lot left in you. You managed to kick his leg out from underneath him and twisted his arm behind him as he fell. You landed ontop of his back, straddling him, and held his arm tightly in place.

“You don’t have to like me, Bakugo. But you will respect me.” You huffed, feeling accomplished you kicked his ass. You held his head down so he couldn’t escape. He squirmed under you as a string of curses left his mouth. You remained like this for a few moments until he stopped moving. Smiling, you let up on his arm slightly, assuming all the fight left his body. You were wrong.

Bakugo used the opportunity of you loosening the grip and flipped the two of you. Your back was planted firmly on the floor, pinned under the weight of him. He held your wrists down to your head with both of his hands.

You both were panting messes, chests rising to meet each other and falling back into place. “I’ll be damned if you tell me what to do, Cherry. ” He hissed, just loud enough to make your head swim. It was a compromising position to say the least. If anyone were to walk in they’d assume the worst. Hell, you were beginning to assume the worst.

You shifted under his weight, planning your escape. There was no point in trying to use your arms, so you used your lower half to wrestle against him. The friction you caused was dangerous. You both felt it. You felt something press into you and you knew it wasn’t his phone. The gym felt like it was five hundred degrees.

You struggled to find your voice. “My name is Y/N.” You whispered. Giving up, you stopped resisting. This time he ground his hips into yours, not breaking eye contact. You moaned in response. You felt yourself throbbing to the core. Bakugo wasn’t dumb, he could tell you enjoyed it.

He leaned down and his lips hovered over yours. You held your breath and closed your eyes, waiting for his to meet yours.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Bakugo peeled himself off of you and left you laying on the floor alone without another word.

You grabbed your chest, “What the hell just happened?”

~~~~~~~~~

AN: Hi all! So if you’ve read the chapters before this one was posted you might be confused why Bakugo is calling Y/N Cherry. Well, after brainstorming ideas of the future chapters a thought came to mind referring to the panty incident of 2021, “Lane, he can’t call the reader pinky...that’s Mina’s hero name.”

That was a total face palm moment. So if you go back you’ll see I changed the underwear to black with cherries on it. Ok, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 😬

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #daddy bakugo #bnha bakugo katsuki #Spotify

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