#I always forget it’s there it’s so tiny and hard to write when you’re drawing something tiny (_ _ )
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stranger things characters as evermore songs
mike: evermore
“grey november, i’ve been down since july.”
“i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where i went wrong.”
“writing letters, addressed to the fire.”
“and i couldn’t be sure. i had a feeling so peculiar...”
“i rewind the tape, but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost.”
“i’m on waves, out being tossed.”
“in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you. it was real enough to get me through.”
will: tolerate it
“i sit and watch you. i notice everything you do or don’t do.”
“use my best colours for your portrait... and watch you tolerate it.”
“i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it.”
“i greet you with a battle hero’s welcome.”
“i take your indiscretions all in good fun.”
“while you were out building other worlds, where was i?”
“where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?”
“i made you my temple, my mural, my sky. now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life.”
“drawing hearts in the byline. always taking up too much space or time.”
el: marjorie
“never be so kind, you forget to be clever.”
“and if i didn’t know better, i’d think you were still around.”
“what died didn’t stay dead. you’re alive, you’re alive in my head.”
“never be so polite, you forget your power.”
“you loved the amber skies so much.”
“you’d always go past where our feet could touch.”
“should’ve kept every grocery store receipt, cause every scrap of you would be taken from me.”
“watched as you signed your name maxine.”
lucas: dorothea
“do you ever stop and think about me?”
“when we were younger down in the park, making a lark of the misery.”
“you got shiny friends since you left town. a tiny screen’s the only place i see you now.”
“and if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you’ll always know me.”
“when it was calmer, skipping the prom, just to piss off your mom.”
max: happiness
“i was dancing when the music stopped.”
“and in the disbelief, i can’t face reinvention. you haven’t met the new me yet.”
“there is happiness. past the blood and bruise. past the curses and cries.”
“beyond the terror in the nightfall, haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime.”
“sorry i can’t see facts, through all of my fury.”
“they’ll be happiness after me, but there was happiness because of me.”
“i can’t make it go away by making you a villain.”
jonathan: willow
“the more you say, the less i know.”
“you cut through like a knife.”
“wherever you stray, i follow.”
“i guess i should’ve known from the look on your face.”
“they count me out time and time again.”
“you know that my train can take you home, everywhere else is hollow.”
nancy: cowboy like me
“you’re a bandit like me. eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life.”
“it could be love. we could be the way forward and i know i’ll pay for it.”
“and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to mess this up.”
“and the old men that i’ve swindled really did believe i was the one.”
“but that was all before i locked it down.”
“forever is the sweetest con.”
“i’ve had some tricks up my sleeve. takes one to know one, you’re a cowboy like me.”
robin: ivy (lesbian anthem for my fav gal <3)
“your touch brought forth an incandescent glow. tarnished but so grand.”
“my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.”
“taking mine, but it’s been promised to another.”
“my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you.”
“your opal eyes are all i wish to see.”
“he wants what’s only yours.”
“what would he do if he found us out?”
“crescent moon, coast is clear. spring breaks loose, but so does fear. he’s gonna burn this house to the ground.”
“i’d live and die for moments that we stole, on begged and borrowed time.”
“so tell me to run, or dare to sit and watch what will become, and drink my husband’s wine.”
“it’s a war, it’s the goddamn fight of my life and you started it.”
steve: tis the damn season
“there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me.”
“so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend.”
“i’m staying at my parents house, and the road look taken looks real good now.”
“and it always leads to you in my hometown.”
“the school that used to be ours.”
“and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles i’m faking.”
“time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires.”
“now i’m missing your smile, hear me out. we could just ride around.”
“sleep in half the day, just for old time’s sake.”
“i won’t ask you to wait, if you don’t ask me to stay.”
#why is elmax so marjorie coded#it gives me life i love them sm#lucas is dorothea which means he's iconic and adored by everyone like the king he is#will thinks he's a tolerate it girlie#but he's actually betty#he's gonna get his james!!#mike being evermore is so personal leave me alone#MAX BEING HAPPINESS#GET OUT GET OUT#ALL THE CURSES AND CRIES?#I AM SICK FOR IT IK#byler#lumax#stranger things#elmax#steddie#robin buckley#ronance#nancy wheeler#jancy#jonathan byers#robin x vickie#mike wheeler#will byers
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How Genshin Boys tuck you in P2
Including: Albedo, Kazuha, Venti
Pairings: Gn!Reader x character (seperate)
Warnings: None! SFW fluff <3
Genre: Fluff,comfort, tiny bit of crack?
Music recommendation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJgHSLAxXYc&list=RD9YgmMJJ34k4&index=6
A/N: dedicated to my lovely chimken @galaxytastes who always supports my artistic/writing endeavours. If you’re ever feeling apprehension at night-time and cannot sleep, I hope this reaches you and you think of me. Ily 🥺
Albedo
“but it’s for an experime-”
“No Albedo, you’re not bringing a frog into bed with us.”
“:(”
After he’s done sulking, he likes to stroke your hair
Kiss each and every fingertip, with delicate, princely kisses
Bed time stories? Nah, never heard of those. Albedo only does ‘random trivia no one knows’ in this house
Before you know it, you’re drifting off to his theories on giant, Liyuean mice, and mutant friendly slimes
Smooths out the creases in your forehead, eases out the tautness of your temples
You can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses his forehead, and fits the comforter just above your neck
“Goodnight, my wonder.”
Kazuha
everyone on the alcor HATES you guys
y’all will not shut up 💀 it’s 3am and you guys are still talking
fr put teenagers at a sleepover to shame
But when you’re with Kazuha, there’s so much to talk about
In fact, there’s never enough time you could be spending with him <3
drowsy, bed time haikus, where you guys are just taking turns adding words😌
games of 20 questions are common!
Just silly questions. “Can you do a cartwheel?” “Have you ever found a four-leaf-clover?”
He gives you a sleepy laugh, tucking your loose hair behind your ear
“Dove, we’ve already long past 20 questions.”
He kisses your eyelids shut, and draws you into his hard chest- fitting like a puzzle piece.
Sneaky mf 🤨
“I’m not going anywhere, my dove. So shut your eyes, and in the morning, we’ll talk, laugh, and be together, all over again.”
Venti
I wish he would just stfu for one second, silly bastard never lets you get any sleep 😩
some days he POUNCES on you like a feral rat
Or some days, he clings to you like a littol koala
ahjjajjdhahah he’s totally not letting his apprehension of nighttime manifest as hyperactivity wdym wdym <333
Archons aren’t designed to sleep. He can choose to, but of course-
everytime he sees your eyes close before him,
and you still to silence,
he can’t help his heart beating inexplicably fast
the only reason you know is because you caught him holding your hand to his forehead one time, and you have never seen him look so distressed🥺
So before bed, from now, you have to give him a lot of kisses and reassurance (he’s none the wiser you caught him like that).
Forget this title, YOU’RE doing the tucking in.
He may be years of experience ahead of you in the musical arts, but rest assured you will be the one singing him to sleep everyday
“mm...come here, windbloom... night..”
☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇
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#genshin impact#genshin hcs#genshin fluff#genshin imagines#kazuha#venti#albedo#kazuha x reader#venti x reader#albedo x reader#genshin x reader#genshin scenarios#albedo scenarios#venti scenarios#kazuha scenarios#genshin headcanons#venti hcs#albedo hcs#kazuha hcs#diluc#childe#kaeya#xiao#genshin shitpost#genshin memes#zhongli#tartaglia#Gorou#itto#genshin writers
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Hii, you wrote slashers and s/o with big boobs, but what about the opposite? S/o with small boobs who is insecure about that and feels less like a woman?
Btw I love your writing and your headcanons. They make my day ♥
I myself have pretty tiny boobs soooo- also I got this request twice kinda so I hope you guys dont mind me putting them into one ❤ Also super happy you like my stuff!!
P.S. I got half way through this and had to start over cause Tumblr deleted my progress 🙃
Slasher HCs || S/O W/ Small Breasts
Warnings: N//SFW
Jason Voorhees
He loves you no matter what. Honestly he loves how small they are. They easily fit in his hands, making it easier to touch all of you in a shorter amount of time.
If he sees you're down about them, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up gently. He'll then proceed to cover them in kisses.
He can't speak so he often uses his hands or mouth to praise them in other ways.
Loves running his thumb over your nipple to watch the small bud harden from his touch.
When you're intimate with him he makes sure to give them lots of attention. He prefers using his hands, loving how soft they are.
He's always loved them so he'll always continue to touch them and whatnot.
Michael Myers
He's fairly indifferent about them. He prefers was anyways.
Doesn't really compliment them or pay much attention to them the first time you two are intimate.
He doesn't notice how you feel for a while but when he finds you criticizing them though, it's fair game.
Will start coming up behind you, running his hands up your sides and to your breasts to engulf them in his large hands and gently squeeze.
He loves messing with them, that includes lightly pinching them. But he loves using his mouth on the more. Beware, he will nip and bite just hard enough to get a reaction from you.
Even after he's convinced you they are perfect, he'll continue touching them abd whatnot cause he'll have realized how much he likes them on you.
Brahms Heelshire
He's a manchild. And it shows. He definitely prefers bigger but he's alright with small breasts too.
100% has an oral fixation. Meaning he'll suck on them a lot. Whether he's partially laying on your lap or if you're on his lap stradling him, he's gonna have his mouth on them.
He'll say something about wishing they were bigger, not thinking about how it would make you feel.
If you start wearing sweaters more often or staring into mirrors longer, silently judging yourself, he'll start to take notice.
He'll start to grope them more and give them more attention while whispering how much he loves them.
He's an ass sometimes. But he loves you and your body. He'll make sure you know it too.
The Other
He's not home often and when he is, he spends a lot of time with his daughter but the moment its just you two, he's immediately walking towards you like a predator stalking it's prey.
He doesn't care about your boob size at all or if you have a nice ads. He just loves you.
When you cuddle, he'll always have a hand under your shirt. Either resting on your tummy or one of your breasts. Usually the latter.
If he sees how much you resent them, he'll show his love for them and your vidy in general by getting you lingerie.
The moment he sees you in it, you're getting thrown on the bed and getting the best night of your life.
Prepare to always be worshipped.
Vincent Sinclair
He loves them. No matter what, you are his muse. His inspiration.
He loves putting his hands on your sides and gently running his thumbs underneath them, against your ribs. Almost like he's sculpting a masterpiece.
He adores that they are small because he can pull your body even closer to his. He loves feeling all of you.
He prefers using his hands on them but he will gladly suckle on them as well. He's a bit shy though so you'll have to tell him you want it.
Absolutely hates that you feel badly about habing small boobs. So, he'll make countless sculptures, paintings, and drawings of you. He'll have so many things of just you that it feels as though he knows your body better than yourself.
Bo Sinclair
Another ass man but a nice set tits is great too. And that includes yours.
He enjoys them. How soft they are especially. His hands are very rough from doing mechanic work on the side so he enjoys the difference in softness.
If you say anything bad about them or judge them, he'll sit you on his lap and suckle them until you're writhing on top of him from sensitivity.
Not afraid to grope you in front of others or slide his hand under your shirt. Your his and he'll make that known real quick.
Loves to leave bitemarks and bruises on them to show you how much he likes them and how much he fully claims them and you.
Lester Sinclair
He likes boobs in general. Small or not. He just really likes the soft mounds.
Loves the feeling of your soft, squishy flesh under his hands and your hardened nipple brushing against his palm.
Gets super wide-eyed and excited if you wear lingerie that lets your breasts hang out. He'll sit there in awe until you get on his lap.
The moment you're on him, he's on you. Licking and nipping them softly, his hands gently groping and squeezing.
His heaven is either his head between your legs or against your breasts so expect him in either place at least once a night.
Solomon Goode
He worships every bit of you. You are his love after all and he would do anything to make you happy.
He enjoys the fact he can hold you close to his chest without large breasts in the way.
Enjoys teasing you every so often when in passing or not busy with work around the house or garden.
Seeing you topless makes his throat go dry and he begins hesitantly walking to you. You'll have to give him the okay to touch you but once you do, his mouth is attached to one of your nipples. His hand moving to rub the other.
He loves your softness and the smell of flowers that seems to surround you without your knowing. Being so close to you and tasting you is intoxicating to him.
Will always compliment them when he gets a good view. He'll never let you feel down about yourself. And if someone does something to make you feel that way, oops. Where'd they go?
Harry Warden
He's so happy anytime he can touch them. For a while though he won't take his gloves off, afraid you'll find him repulsive.
Though once he does and he feels the soft flesh for the first time, he'll never want to let go.
He loves the small mounds almost as much as he hates Valentine's Day. Between the softness of your flesh and the way your nipples harden at his touch, he's completely addicted to them.
Enjoys covering them in kisses while he praises you and compliments you. You're his precious lover after all.
Expect him to compliment them every time he sees you once he realizes you think they aren't perfect. They are gorgeous. Just like you.
Bubba Sawyer
Absolutely loves them. He couldn't even mildly dislike anything about you. You're perfect in his eyes. He'll even make you sundresses that show them off perfectly.
Though be careful when wearing said sundress because he'll get distracted by you really quick, causing him to forget about his work.
When laying in bed he'll always have a hand on one of your breasts subconsciously. Not even on purpose most times, he just wants to hold you.
Definitely another with an oral fixation. He enjoys gently playing with your hardened nipples with his tongue when in a more intimate moment.
Won't publicly do anything like groping because he's a good boy but will attempt to compliment you. You'll know what he's trying to say when he does.
Thomas Hewitt
Very handsy with you once your relationship starts to take off. Your breasts being something that fascinates him despite the size.
When you two are cuddled up in bed he will lightly run his fingertips over them to watch the goosebumps form and your nipples harden.
His favorite thing to do is grab your sides and use his thumbs to rub the little nubs. His eyes will wonder from your breasts to your face, wanting to catch the faces you make.
After a while he'll attach his mouth to one, his eyes never leaving your face. He adores how much pleasure he can give you from something so small.
His opinion when you bring up how you feel about them is "Good things come in small packages."
Eddie Gluskin
Well you already have a one up on his exes. They didn't even have anything at all. Barely even mosquito bites.
He'll run his fingertips over the mounds, lightly pressing down to see the small squish it makes.
You're his perfect bride. His Darling. So different from the whores he was with before. Your body is something else to him.
The mounds may be small but boy does he praise them and cover them in affection.
If you ask, he'd be happy to add an modifications to your wedding dress to make you feel better about them.
Though he'll need to do a lot of... Researching... To make sure he gets the measurements right.
#bo sinclair x reader#brahms heelshire#bubba sawyer x reader#jason voorhees#harry warden#jason voorhees x reader#michael myers#lester sinclair#michael myers x reader#slasher x reader#slasher x reader smut#slasher headcanons#bubba sawyer x reader smut#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair x reader#jason voorhees x reader smut#vincent sinclair#vincent sinclair x reader smut#solomon goode#solomon goode x reader#solomon goode x reader smut#eddie gluskin#eddie gluskin x reader#eddie gluskin x reader smut#the other x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#thomas hewitt x reader smut#thomas hewitt#bubba sawyer#lester sinclair x reader
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s.o.s, m | knj
pairing(s): namjoon x reader
summary: It's two in the morning and Kim Namjoon is at your doorstep, asking you to fuck. In a fuckbuddies way, because, as a wise man once said, "I may not know love, but I know snacks." Well, you do agree with this statement. Let's go with the flow!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics, blowjob, cowgirl); friends-with-benefits and feels through fucking (classic for me, haha, maybe I fell in love with him while writing it, oops)
happy birthday, Kim Namjoon <3 #happyRMday
--
now playing – pado by bibi
“Hey!”
“Shit, Namjoon, are you trying to break my door down at two in the morning or what? What’s with you? Why didn’t you just type in the lock?”
Kim Namjoon’s large frame and big brown eyes glanced at the silver-blue electronic number pad on your apartment door. “Oh. Right. I forgot you had that now.”
“I have it because you keep losing my key!”
He rubbed the back of his now blond head sheepishly. He must have dyed it recently because it had been dark brown last week. It was shorter than before, trimmed at the sides and longer at the top. Usually it was styled, but right now it was messy and puffy like he had been running across the city on those long legs of his or, more likely, windblown from riding his bicycle on his way here.
Namjoon didn’t drive. He said it was to maintain world peace.
“Do you wanna fuck?” he asked you breathlessly.
You looked down at your massive black sleep shirt that made you look like a lump of fabric, but, well, he picked today to pop the question and what were you gonna do? Say no?
You snapped back up, smacking your finger on your left wrist. “It’s two in the morning!”
“One forty-five, yeah,” Namjoon agreed, glancing at his brown leather-banded, white-faced watch. Simple and sleek. You noticed he had a few colorful string-woven bracelets on his wrists, likely handmade by someone in the various rural villages Namjoon liked to visit in his spare time. He dropped his arm and smiled brilliantly at you with those dimpled cheeks.
“I was thinking about you. You know, that habit you do when you run your hand through your hair and flick your wrist at the end, elegantly spreading your fingers out. Super sexy.”
You felt your ears heat. “Hahah… what?”
He scratched his head and stuck his hands in his loose black pants, draping his warm gray t-shirt over his wrists. Lowered his chin and flickered his eyes to you, awkward half-smile on those full lips.
Oh.
Shit.
“D… Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, backing up and shifting your eyes. “You always do that.”
“Do what?” Namjoon chirped, stepping inside and out of his brown sandals.
“Give me those puppy eyes even though you’re built like a fucking tank.”
“I snore like one too.”
“Yeah, I know.”
But none of those things really mattered because your arm was snaking up, your other hand slapping the door closed, looking down until you couldn’t look down anymore, lifting your head to playful dark brown orbs and a dimpled smile, already leaning down, his scent of warm cotton and faint florals washing over you, and then his lips touched yours and it was over.
You could say no, you could, but you never really wanted to.
Namjoon wasn’t being rude showing up so late. After all, you had already told him it was one of your fantasies, a late-night rendezvous, a bit of unexpected expected fun. Namjoon was willing to help, a game of ping-pong between casual, sometimes lovers, both too busy and scatterbrained at this point in life to commit to anything, but that worked for you and for him, or at least that’s what you told him and what he told you, his large hands now encircling your back, fingertips pressed into the thin fabric, sighing into your mouth, rhythm of those long fingers dancing up, up, sinking into your hair, tangling himself in it, nibbling at your lower lip.
“I just love touching your hair,” that deep, deep voice whispered to your lips, eyes still closed, smirking as the tip of your tongue darted out, playing with him as he spoke. “And I like messing it up a little.”
“A little? You like messing it up a lot.”
Namjoon curled his fingers inward and pulled back, your head following automatically, grinning with you as he opened his eyes, devious even with the dimples.
“Okay, yeah, you’re right.”
It wasn’t fun if it wasn’t with him.
You raised your hand and spread your fingers out, slowly running your nails up and then down his chest, smirking back at him, your tongue peeking out between your teeth.
Namjoon once said to you, let’s just go with the flow, ride the wave.
He sucked in a breath right now and pulled you close, hands letting go of your hair as he captured your lips again, deep, ravenous kisses that took your breath away, such wonderful lips that loved to travel across your body and wander that wonderland, his hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up as he stumbled back into your apartment, dragging you with him, you riding the wave of his passion, dragging his shirt up with yours, tossing them aside, body to body, exploring lips on that warm skin and muscular chest.
Namjoon also said things like, I may not know love, but I know snacks, so, yeah, he was always poetic like that. Full of wisdom and weirdness, arguably the best combination one could have when struggling through this nonsensical world.
You pushed him down on the bed, kissing all that tan skin, running your nails down his shoulders, walking down his defined biceps finger by finger, digging in a little harder, pairing it with kisses and drawing stars on his pecs with your saliva, making him smile and flash those dimples.
“Like that?” you teased, drawing back a little so he could watch the mastery of your tongue at work.
“You know me,” Namjoon chuckled, the sound radiating from his chest to your mouth, sending ripples through your spine. “I like cute things with a little pinch.”
“Like those tiny beach crabs?”
Now he actually laughed, that throaty, booming laugh of his, nodding with affirmation.
You sometimes wondered when the waves would stop and roll out, sometimes wondered if the tide of Kim Namjoon would go low and leave you behind, but maybe it was the moon or something, cosmic threads that sent him rushing back to your beach, bright and sparkling, always catching the light and looking good from every angle.
“Fuck, I always forget you’re huge.”
“I am not huge. You are being dramatic.”
“Dramatically sucking your dick.”
You knew how to take his breath away, how to make him gasp and his hand fly to your head, groaning as he pushed you down, your throat closing around his rapidly swelling length, tongue all over in the small window you had to wetly caress every contour and vein, bobbing your head in time with his gentle nudges, waiting for you and your jaw to adjust before thrusting a little harder, a little rougher, choppy waves and lost breath. His scent filled your nose, his toned hips in your hands, digging your nails into that muscle, inhaling and drowning in the feeling, pressing him between tongue and roof of your mouth, feeling the head hitting your throat, so you tightened your muscles.
Namjoon moaned your name, brown orbs turning darker from dilated pupils.
It filled your ears and soaked into your chest, your heart pumping faster, beating harder, drawn to the sound like a sailor to a siren.
You took him deeper, pulsing around the head, sticking your tongue out a little to lap at his balls collected in your hands.
“A-Ah, fuck… You’re always so, so good… always making me think of you…”
You watched his eyes close, his hand gripping your hair, not unkind, simply adding a little bit of force, but you were in control of the pace, riding the wave, filling your mouth with his hardness over and over, closing your own eyes, small tears collecting at the corners, unable to breathe, but you already knew you were diving and you practiced for this, holding your breath and bobbing your head fast and tight, your fingernails clawing at his sides just the way he liked, a little neediness, a little desperation, maybe an act or maybe not, honestly hard to tell with how often you had blown him, so maybe it was part of you now, just like how sometimes you would be alone and smell his scent even though Namjoon wasn’t there at all, maybe real but probably an olfactory memory, strange that it would happen just like that, a wave of warm cotton and faint florals that you drank in small trickles right now, your mouth occupied with his thick length, listening to the sloppy, wet sound of his cock being swallowed over and over again by your suffocating mouth, saliva sliding over his balls and onto your chin.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
Pushing you down, forcing you to deep dive, swallowing on instinct, clamping your lips around his jerking cock with every gulp of gushing cum, the strong salty taste lingering in the back of your tongue as your throat was stuffed with the swollen head. Namjoon shuddered deeply, resonating pleasure that drifted down his torso and through your fingertips. You lapped up anything you missed, sucking it off and Namjoon hissed at the sensitivity, tugging at your hair sharply.
You hummed and retreated a little, breathing again, licking the underside of the tip, wiggling your tongue over the slit and around head, opening your eyes to Namjoon’s panting smile.
“You want me to punish you or what?”
Nah, you wanted to ride the wave, but this particular wave was pretty fucking big.
“Oooh, fuck…!”
Namjoon raised his arms and grabbed your pillows, thrusting his hips up into your pussy after you had lowered halfway. The condom wrapper flew off the bed, probably to be found in some random place in your room tomorrow morning.
A later you problem.
Hands on his chest, sinking down, gasping for breath at the forced stretch at his girth, but it was nicer that way, wet and getting wetter, spreading your knees and arching your back, your hair falling down your shoulders, rolling your body to smack down onto his crotch, fuck, so hard and so full, starting a rough, choppy rhythm because Namjoon was deliberately not letting you set up a reasonable pace and kept thrusting up a little too fast, a little too hard, hot moans tumbling out of your mouth, feeling the crashing pleasure try to overtake you, drawing your knees back in to feel all of him, your palms sliding up, grasping those strong shoulders, lowering your head to speak to those sultry brown orbs reflecting your open mouth and half-lidded gaze.
“Namjoon… please, oh, f-fuck… if you’re gonna be like this, j-just fuck me…!”
He grinned, dimples on display.
“Anything for you.”
Mayday, mayday, you needed to be saved from that teasing smile and those words.
His hands fitted to your shaking hips and held you up easily, lifting his hips up at a deep, hard pace, emphasis on strength and less on speed, the muscles of his arms tense and locked to keep you above him as he slammed his hard cock into your pussy.
“Ah, yes, yes, right there, Namjoon, yes…”
You could go deeper so you did, slapping your hips down too and making Namjoon grin under you. Shit, something about those round cheeks and bright smile while he was railing you practically to heaven was doing something to you, washing out your senses and giving you no time to think, squeezing him inside you and feeling him twitch back, something so sexy about how he could do that even while fucking you, and you saw him suck in a breath, witnessing your effect on him, his hold becoming tighter, his dark lashes lowering, hooded eyes and locking with your gaze.
Drowning in the pleasure with you.
“Come on, you want it, right?” he panted under you, voice so deep it felt like you were underwater, your skin vibrating with the seductiveness of his tone and the depth of his sound mixing with the harsh slaps of skin to skin, wet and wonderful. “Show me you want it, give it to me.”
You couldn’t say no, already tightening your core and smacking down on him harder before he could even finish speaking, the ecstasy shooting up your spine and pouring all over your scalp and mind, letting go, pitched cries and blissful moans, Namjoon moaning with you, your name on his lips and filling up your bedroom, clutching his shoulders and staring into his eyes, breathing in warm cotton and faint florals, cast away into a wild paradise.
You clenched around him and gasped, a powerful jolt rocking through you, surprised at the sudden squelch but then you felt the overwhelming rush barreling through you, sweeping you into pulsing pleasure, one of your hands losing grip and grabbing onto the pillow beside Namjoon’s head, his heavy breath and your exhaled name blowing over on your prickling skin, realizing you were accidentally closer than usual because your hand slipped, his hands tightly wrapped around your waist and slamming you down onto his crotch, groaning and tipping his head back, his eyes closing, Adam’s apple prominent against his flexed neck.
If possible, suddenly you could breathe even less.
Your pussy throbbed around his twitching cock, his orgasm spurting into the condom and your juices soaking his skin with each flinch of the aftermath, wave after wave crashing into you, your arms trembling to hold yourself up so you could absorb it all – him, the dwindling pleasure, the moment when his eyes opened, your name drifting out of those lips in a lustful haze.
“I should… go back to mine, huh…” he wheezed, chuckling slightly. “Otherwise, I’m going to snore too loud and you’re not going to be able to sleep…”
You slid down, closer, closer, seeing the mole underneath his lower lip with his rueful smile. His fingers were drawing circles on your hips.
“I bought earplugs.”
You silenced his laugh with a kiss.
--
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the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚
P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable
anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children
so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;
tw: vomiting, ppd and od
oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks
Motherhood was really fucking hard.
The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.
It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.
“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”
As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.
“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.
“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.
But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.
“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.
You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.
Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.
There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.
“You two boys okay?”
You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.
“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.
“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.
“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.
His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.
“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”
Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.
“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”
“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.
“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.
“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.
“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.
“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.
The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.
Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.
You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.
You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.
There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.
Last night had been that night.
Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.
You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.
It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.
“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.
You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.
“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.
Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.
“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.
“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.
“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”
“She’s really tired all of the times.”
“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.
Hell, was he so wrong.
“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”
“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.
Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.
“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.
He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.
Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.
“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.
999
“What’s your emergency?”
“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”
The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.
Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.
It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.
Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.
You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’
“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.
“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.
“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”
“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”
“Stop yes I do I—”
“Harry please you don’t owe—”
“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.
“Harry, you don’t mean—”
“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”
“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.
“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.
“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”
“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”
“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”
“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”
“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.
Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.
“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.
“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.
“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”
You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”
“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”
“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”
Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.
“I’m proud of you.”
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Racing Heart
Pairing :: Clark Kent x short/petite fem!Reader
Warnings :: Smut, Size Kink
Word Count :: 4,265
Summary :: You never knew why, but whenever you were around Clark, your heart always raced.
A/N :: Just an fyi, I used Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, but I used the comic book height of Clark, which is 6′3′’, versus Henry’s 6′1′’
You never quite understood why, all you knew was that your heart always started racing when you were close to Clark. It wasn’t whenever you saw him, or when you were just in the same room as him. It was only when you were able to notice how small you were compared to the 6’3’’ man.
There were many occasions when this happened. Whenever Clark hugged you, helped you grab something on a top shelf, or even when he was standing so close to you, you two almost touched, your heart began racing. It had gotten to the point where you went out of your way to avoid getting close to the man, making sure you were always on the opposite side of the room from him.
There were three specific times though that made your face heat up just thinking about them.
-
The first one was in the break room.
You had managed to open the cabinet doors right above the refrigerator, but were struggling to grab the box of plastic utensils. You always forgot to bring a fork or spoon from home for your lunch, though you never had to worry about it because The Daily Planet had some. Of course, in an office full of tired reporters, others were bound to forget their utensils as well, and thus the box that was placed on the counter was now empty.
You stood on your tippy-toes, fingers barely grazing the corner of the box. The heels your wore offered no help, only adding a mere inch and a half to your height. You open the cabinet with ease, and a huff of annoyance left you when you saw the box of forks was on the second shelf. You had grown so frustrated, you began hopping just to try and hit the box that you now believed was taunting you. However, your hopping was working, as you managed to hit the corner repeatedly to make the box slowly come out. You didn’t care if you were wearing a skirt. It ended right before your knees and you were wearing black tights so it was fine.
You just needed one more good hop and you knew you’d be able to grab the box. You bent your knees only slightly, and then-
“Do you need some help?” A deep kind voice asked, followed by a large hand reaching past you and grabbing the box.
You whipped your entire body around, now facing a tie and button-down plaid shirt. You tilted your head up, seeing the man from Kansas, Clark Kent. He was giving you one of his classic golden boy smiles, looking down at you.
You gave him a small smile in return, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to grow faster. Perhaps Clark sneaking up behind you startled you, and he seemed to notice.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you were struggling for a bit,” He commented, holding the box out for you.
You grabbed it, thanking him quietly before a small idea popped into your head. “Were you watching me?”
You swore you saw a small tint on Clark’s cheeks as he let out a cough to clear his throat. “Um, no, I had walked by earlier and saw you struggling then, and, well, when I came back I saw you were still here so I decided to help.”
You let out a small giggle. “I’m teasing Clark.”
You saw him visibly ease up, letting out a small exhale. Little did you know he had been staring at you for a small while before he helped you. Watching you hop up and down had brought a small smile of amusement to his face.
-
The second one was in the supply room.
Some people bought their supplies, and that was their stash. Others, such as yourself, helped themselves to the abundance of the supply room. What you had just ran out of only moments ago were sticky notes. You used them quite often, not only for notes but also for little drawings you did to pass the time. As a matter of fact, your entire desk was nearly covered with either small memos or doodles of random characters.
The sticky notes, unfortunately, were located on the top shelf. To add to your bad luck, there was also no stepping stool or ladder. Now, you could’ve been rational and go get someone taller to help. ‘Nah, I got this,’ you thought as you carefully began to climb up on the shelves. You believed in your climbing abilities, even in your heels. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward trying to grip onto the shelves, and the heels of your feet were hanging off, but you felt secure enough.
You reached the top shelf with relative ease, only needing to step up two shelves. Then came the matter of the box of sticky notes that had yet to be open. There was no way you could open the box to grab the small number of notepads you needed, not without both hands though. You could throw the box down, but what were the chances of it breaking open and creating a mess? ‘I really should’ve thought this one through a little better,’ you regretted.
Busy thinking of how to get the sticky notes down(along with how often you found yourself in this sort of ‘you’ve made your bed now lay in it’ situations you’ve been in) you didn’t notice the door open and close once again. “(Y/N)?”
“Wha- Ah!” You let out a squeal, losing your balance from being pulled from your train of thought. Your eyes widened and your heart froze, feeling your feet slip off along with your grip.
You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the oncoming impact from the floor, along with the pain. Thankfully, the person who had caused your fall was quick enough to save you. Instead of feeling the hard tiled floor, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. They held you close, almost squeezing you a bit too tight, but you felt safe in the embrace. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to make sure you were indeed okay. You looked up to see who had caught you, your (e/c) eyes locking with blue ones behind a frame of glasses.
There was a clear worried look on Clark’s face. “You need to be careful (Y/N), you can’t just climb up shelves. If you need help, ask for it,” He continued to scold you, but you couldn’t focus on a thing he was saying.
Your heart was pounding, though you thought it was from the adrenaline of almost falling, and your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t listen to him with him still holding you, it was all your mind was focused on. His grip on you was frim, and you were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrus with a hint of musk. You always knew you were petite in build, but being held like this made you feel tiny. ‘His arms are so big. Am I really this small? He doesn’t look like he’s struggling at all. When does he have the time to work out? How-’
“(Y/N) are you even listening to a thing I’m saying?”
You blinked once, looking at him with big eyes. “Um… You’re still holding me…” You pointed out, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Unable to look at him any longer, your eyes darted down, missing his flustered face.
He put you down quickly, apologizing, and you told him not to just as quickly in response. After, you thanked him and rushed out without even taking a single sticky note with you. Later on in the day though, when you had walked away and returned to your desk, there were two sticky note pads on your desk.
-
The third one was at a charity event.
You and Clark were assigned to the event together as it was a rather large event. The money being raised was for meta-human teens and children, to help them better understand their abilities safely.
After hearing the guest list, you knew you had to wear the one forest green dress you wore to every fancy event. It was the nicest, and expensive, dress you owned. You paired it with three-inch black heels and a simple opal pendant. You never like dressing up too much. Clark wore a simple muted dark brown suit, with a navy blue button-up and blue tie to match it.
Now, it was rather tricky to keep your distance from Clark this time, and you really didn’t want to get flustered during work. Before it was at work, now it would be during work. There was a difference, granted a small difference, but still, a difference. At work, you just minded your business, and on occasion, goofing off when you weren’t writing an article. Here you were supposed to be interviewing and taking notes of everything happening. You couldn’t miss something important because Clark wanted to dance and you couldn’t keep your mind straight after. He didn’t ask you to dance, but, if he did you’d refuse.
“So, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen-”
“Please, call me Oliver,” The blond said.
Before you stood Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. You were intending to speak to Mr. Wayne alone, but just as you approached him, Mr. Queen also got to him. You were about to apologize and walk away, however, Mr. Queen, or rather, Oliver, insisted you interviewed them together. You had to admit, it was rather nice having Oliver around as Mr. Wayne, even though he was known as a playboy, gave you a rather intimidating aura.
You began interviewing the two, asking them the same questions you had asked all the millionaires, but ended up talking with them and enjoying it. Mr. Wayne wasn’t as intimidating as he had seemed, and Oliver was rather humorous. It was clear to you the two were friends.
You were in the middle of laughing at a joke Oliver had told when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turned your head, seeing Clark, standing right beside you with a smile.
“Well you most certainly are having a good time,” He commented before turning his attention to the men in front of you. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out with his free hand to shake theirs.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…” Mr. Wayne’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Clark’s badge from the daily planet, “...Mr. Kent.”
“Call me Oliver,” He said as he shook your coworker’s hand. “I take it you two were sent together?”
“Yes,” You said in sync.
The conversation continued, and the entire time Clark kept his arm around your shoulders. You nodded along, even humming a few times in response to make it appear as if you were listening as your mind wandered. ‘Why is my heart racing? Why is he still holding me? Should I say something? What if I seem rude? I don’t want him to let go though.’ Even though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, you knew there was a small part of you that always liked how petite you were compared to Clark.
Then, you felt his thumb begin to rub small circles onto your bare shoulder. Without thinking, you slowly leaned into his larger frame. Now, you couldn’t see it because you were still looking ahead at the two millionaires, but Clark glanced down at you, happy you had come closer.
-
You couldn’t avoid Clark forever though, despite your best efforts.
You walked down the sidewalk, holding four large reusable grocery bags each full to the brim. You lived alone, but you liked to shop in bulk so you wouldn’t have to go out often. You were struggling a fair amount though. Normally, you had a friend who’d come with you to help you out and then the two of you would hang out. Sadly, all your friends were busy for the next few days and you were beginning to run out of your favorite conditioner, not to mention you were low on food.
You didn’t drive to the grocery store either, adding to your struggle. It was only three blocks away, why waste gas? You wouldn’t be struggling much longer though.
“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A male voice called out.
You stopped, eyes darting everywhere to find the owner of the voice. It took you a moment until you eventually spotted Clark in front of you, a good distance away.
“Oh, hi Clark!” You placed two of the bags down to give him a large arm wave.
It took him a moment to get to you, and when he did he looked down at your groceries puzzled. “That seems like a lot for one person to carry.”
“Yeah, I tend to bite off more than I can chew.”
“I’ve noticed,” He said with a chuckle. “Do you want some help?”
You shook your head. “No. I couldn’t possibly drag you away from your day off to help me.”
“It wouldn’t be a hassle at all,” He reassured you. “Plus, it’d eat at me all day knowing I left you struggling.”
Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you let out a sigh, agreeing to his help. He took three of the bags, leaving you with the one bag filled with two bags of chips, three loaves of bread, and two dozen eggs. You tried to hold two bags, make the work even between the two of you, but he insisted. He tried to carry the bag you held as well, but you were adamant you held at least one.
Walking down to your apartment complex, the two of you mainly talked about work. At least you did, and Clark more so listened. This was the first time your heart didn’t start racing as you stood next to him, probably because you wouldn’t shut up about the deadline for your new article. You refused to look up at him, eyes fixed only on what was in front of you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to your apartment. You thanked him and told him he could go on with his day, but he insisted he helped you carry the bags up to your apartment.
You were quiet from then on, listening to Clark talk about the building. He lead you all away to your front door, standing patiently for you to unlock your door. Then, it hit you. You noticed his shadow over you as you faced your front door. Your heart quickened a bit, still, you ignored it as you opened your front door.
You speedily guided him to the kitchen to place the groceries down, and just as fast you tried to rush him out. His brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face.
“(Y/N), why are you in such a rush to show me out?”
‘Because I can’t think straight now with you around!’ You thought. Instead, you said to him, “Because I’m tired and I want you to enjoy your day off!”
He didn’t seem to believe you. He stood in front of you, a small frown on his lips. “Do you like me?”
Your eyes widened, mouth left ajar at his question.
“Because sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”
‘Oh-’ “What- No. I think you’re a great guy Clark.”
“Then why are you always avoiding me?” You didn’t think he had noticed. “Whenever I get close to you, you scurry off, and when you can’t you look uncomfortable.”
Like a child who had just gotten caught, you covered your face, too embarrassed to look at him. You didn’t want to tell him the real reason you were avoiding him, but, you also didn’t want him thinking you disliked him. It was the exact opposite.
“I’m not avoiding you because I don’t like you, Clark,” You said through your hands. You spread apart your fingers so you could look him in the eyes. “I… I avoid you because you’re… you’re so big.”
Now Clark was taken aback, a brow raised. “What?”
With a long exhale, you lowered your hands. “I said, I avoid you because you’re so… so big, and it makes me feel really small, and I can’t think straight.”
“You avoid me because I’m too big, and it makes you feel small, and you can’t think straight?” He repeated.
You nodded.
He was silent for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. “In a good or bad way?”
“What?”
“In a good or bad way?”
You could feel your face heat up, and it wasn’t the only spot on you beginning to grow warm. Softly, you answered him. “In a good way, I guess.”
Clark took a step closer to you. “So you like the fact that I’m larger than you?”
“Yes, I just-”
“No.” His normally bright blue eyes seemed to darken, his eyes narrowed on you. “I want you to say it.”
You closed your legs closer together, feeling a heat rise in between your thighs. “I like that you’re so much bigger and stronger compared to me.”
Swiftly, Clark scooped you up, hands just beneath your bottom to raise you to his face. With how fast your heart was racing now you were sure he could hear it pounding in your chest.
You looked into his eyes as you carefully took off his glasses and tossed them onto your couch. Then, you placed a hand on each side of his face and gave him a long soft kiss. He returned the kiss gently, though after a few minutes you could tell he wanted more, his kiss began to grow rough.
You had wrapped your legs around him to be more comfortable, giving him a better grip on you. He squeezed your ass and in response you let out a soft moan. He lowered you a bit, only enough for you to feel his growing erection against your fully clothed core. He held your hips close, moving you against him for a bit of friction. You whimpered, lowering your head into his chest and gripping his dark grey shirt.
“Clark, please,” You whined.
“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.
You pulled your head away from his chest, nodding over in the direction of your bedroom. “Second door to the right,”
Almost hurried, he carried you straight to your bedroom. He stopped right at the edge of your bed, letting go and letting you fall back onto your mattresses. He crawled on top of you, placing a knee between your legs. Gently, he peeled away your clothes, tossing them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. He began peppering kisses around your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone. As he did, his hand crept its way behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. He pulled away from his kisses to watch your breasts bounce free, eyes fixed on your bare chest.
Feeling embarrassed, you moved to cover your chest with your hands, but he pinned your hands above your head with one hand.
A low chuckle escaped him. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”
You were about to turn your head away when Clark dipped his head down, capturing your lips again. You could feel his free hand slowly trail up your side, humming as a shiver went down your spine. He cupped your breast firmly, beginning to knead it in his palm.
Small moans left your lips, arching your back, body begging for more. You already knew your panties were wet, and you needed him, but he was still fully clothed. All the while you could feel his denim-covered erection against your thigh.
“Clark,” You groaned against his lips, “It’s not fair.”
He pulled back, brows raised. You struggled to pull your hands free, to no avail.
“You’re still dressed,” You said with a pout.
He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, how about you take care of that for me?”
He let go of your hands and you eagerly reached for the end of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You almost started drooling seeing him shirtless for the first time. Your hands began to wander around his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Your hands wandered down further, to the hem of his pants. Just as you were about to reach for his belt, his hand stopped you.
“You’re not ready yet sweetheart,” He warned you.
“Clark-”
He pressed his mouth against you, silencing you before you could complain. Even though you weren’t allowed to undo his pants, he slid them off with ease and you felt his long hard member pressed against your thigh. You momentarily pulled away to glance down, gasping loudly when you saw his length.
Worried, you looked back up at him. “It’s not going to fit.”
He dipped his head back down to your neck, peppering kisses across your jaw. “That’s why we need to get you ready.”
His hand moved down to your soaked panties, pushing them down so you were completely bare now. Your breathing hitched, feeling him stick in a finger and begin to move it in and out of you slowly. He picked up the pace with his finger, eventually sticking in another and he could already feel your pussy tightening.
You were growing close and he was only fucking you with his fingers. Granted, his hands were larger than yours, so two of his fingers felt much larger than two of your own.
To add on, he lowered himself so his head would be right at your dripping cunt and began sucking on your clit.
“Ah!” Your hands went straight to his hair and began to tug. You were a mess in his hands.
It didn’t take long for your body to shudder and your hips begin to spasm as you hit your high. Clark licked up your pouring juice, humming at your sweet taste. He looked up at you, two fingers remaining and now scissoring inside of you.
“You know, you really should ask for help if you can’t reach something,” He began. “It’s hard trying to hold back when you reach for things in those tight skirts of yours.”
“Well, now you don’t need to hold back,” You teased.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, grabbing his face with one hand and guiding him back to you. You could taste your juices in the kiss, humming in delight.
He pulled his fingers out, your core aching to be filled again. Luckily, you soon felt his already dripping tip at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you and you could feel your walls stretch around him. You nearly cried, your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your back arched, breasts pressing against Clark’s chest. Your hands gripped his arms as tight as you could, and you were sure you were digging your nails into him.
It was so much. You could feel your eyes water and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
Clark kissed your forehead, muttered against it, “Just relax.”
He gave a small moment to adjust, noting how your breathing changed when you had gotten used to him. He pushed himself further in though, and you cursed under your breath, body growing tense again.
Again, he gave you a moment to adjust, despite how painfully tight your walls clamped around him. He pulled out a small amount before pushing back in, bucking his a few times to get you used to him. Eventually, your quiet whimpers turned into small moans.
“M-more,” You breathed out, breath shaky.
Like a switch had been flipped in him, Clark pulled out almost all the way and speared you, no longer as gentle as he had been before. He did this again and again, going a little harder each time at a constant rhythm. Then, with one thrust you shouted his name loudly and your cunt squeezed around his cock.
“Ah! Clark again! Right there, please!” You begged him.
Knowing he had found your g-spot, he pulled out all the way this time and pounded that same spot, earning another cry of pleasure from you. He did this repeatedly now with a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping and clenching with each thrust. With each of your breaths growing ragged, it was clear you were both close to your release.
You wrapped a leg around his hips to try and bring him closer, and he gripped your thigh harshly. He squeezed it so tightly, you were sure there’d be a faint bruise.
With a few more thrusts, you shuddered, juices flowing out of you again and around Clark’s cock this time. You swore you heard Clark curse, feeling you squeeze around him and juices cover him.
His rhythm was growing sloppy, and he pumped in and out of you until he let out a low groan of relief. You took a sharp breath, feeling his warm seed enter you. He continued to buck his hips, riding it out until he finally stopped, breath heavy.
He looked at you with now clear eyes and a smile on his face. “So… Do you need help putting your groceries away?” He asked cheekily.
You giggled. “Only if you don’t put anything important on the top shelf.”
“Why not? I’ll be around to help you now.”
#clark kent#clark kent x reader#clark kent imagine#clark kent smut#superman#superman x reader#superman imagine#superman smut#henry cavill#henry cavill superman#henry cavill clark kent#clark kent fanfic#superman fanfic#clark kent fanfiction#superman fanfiction
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Practicum
Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader
Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it
Words: 12,857
“So, you just want me to read from the book?”
“Yes.”
“And...answer questions?”
“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.
You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.
“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”
Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.
this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!
Practicum
prac·ti·cum
/ˈpraktəkəm/
noun
a practical section of a course of study
It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.
Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.
It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.
That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.
It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.
‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’
‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’
But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.
Fuck.
Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.
Perfect.
Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.
Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.
This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.
When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.
“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”
Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.
“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”
The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.
“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”
“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.
“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”
You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”
You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.
Despite all that caution, you’re lost.
In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?
Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.
Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.
Ugh, why is this so stressful?
It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.
You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.
Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.
The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.
Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.
Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.
He’s watching you.
The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.
“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”
He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.
“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”
“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”
“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”
“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.
“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.
“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”
“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”
Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.
You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.
You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.
“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”
Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.
You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.
“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”
“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”
“You’re a senior, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”
You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–
“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”
You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.
“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”
“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”
“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”
You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”
You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.
Wait. Did…did he really just say that?
Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.
The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.
He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.
Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.
Wait. Sexy?
Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.
“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.
At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.
“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”
“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.
Maybe it’s those eyes of his.
They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.
You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?
“Did you need something?”
His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.
“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”
“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”
“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”
“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”
“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”
He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.
The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.
The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.
At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.
“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”
“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.
He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”
“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.
“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”
“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”
Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”
“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.
“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”
“Sometimes it takes more than that.”
“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”
“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”
God.
You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.
The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.
The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.
No. No, no, no, no.
You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.
God fucking damn it.
You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.
It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.
No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.
Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.
“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”
“Gimme the paperwork.”
Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.
You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.
Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.
When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.
“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”
His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.
Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).
“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.
“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.
He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.
“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.
“Something came up.”
“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.
“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.
“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.
“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”
He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”
“Um, yeah. But–”
“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”
You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”
“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”
“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”
“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”
“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”
“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.
“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.
“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.
“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.
“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”
You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.
“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”
Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”
“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.
“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.
“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”
You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”
“Yes.”
“And… answer questions?”
“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.
You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.
“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”
Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”
“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”
Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.
He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.
“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.
“Want me to throw a curve in?”
“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”
“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.
“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”
“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.
“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”
Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”
What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…
Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.
“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”
You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.
“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.
“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”
You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”
Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.
“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”
He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.
“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”
He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.
Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.
“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.
“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”
“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.
“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.
Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.
Wait. Didn’t you just…
“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”
“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”
The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.
“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.
The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.
“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.
“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”
Thank God.
True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.
“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.
He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”
Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.
“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”
Damn it.
“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.
“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”
His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.
“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”
“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.
“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.
“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”
Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.
“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.
A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.
“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”
“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.
“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”
“W-what? The cell… ah–”
“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.
His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.
“I said, answer me.”
“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”
“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”
“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.
“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).
The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.
Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”
He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.
“What is the cell membrane?”
You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.
You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.
“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”
“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”
He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.
“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”
He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.
“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.
“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”
“Let’s try another.”
It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.
“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.
“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.
“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.
“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”
“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”
“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.
“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.
“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.
“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.
“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”
“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”
“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”
“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.
“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.
Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.
Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.
Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…
There’s a faint clicking sound.
It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.
Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.
God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.
Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.
He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.
“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?
Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”
“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.
“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”
“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”
There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.
You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.
He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.
“Hold still,” he commands.
It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.
Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.
You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”
You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.
“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.
“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.
“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.
“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.
“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”
“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.
The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.
“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”
“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.
“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.
“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”
“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”
Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.
He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.
The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.
This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.
But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.
Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.
“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.
“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.
“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.
He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.
His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.
His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.
“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.
You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.
“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.
“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”
He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”
Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.
His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.
“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.
“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”
“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.
“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.
“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”
tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.
notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu
#shigaraki tomura#tomura shigaraki#reader insert#shigaraki x y/n#shigaraki x you#shigaraki x reader#bnha smut#9 to 5 collab#bnha degeneracy server#collaboration#tw: unhealthy relationship#tw: teacher/student#tw: dubcon#tw: bribery
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I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??
400 years later.....
Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!
Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight
Lucifer
It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.
To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”
The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.
“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”
“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.
The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”
You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”
You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.
“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.
“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”
“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.
Mammon
There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.
You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.
“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”
Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.
You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.
Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.
“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.
“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.
“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”
“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.
“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”
Levi
You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.
“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.
“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.
The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”
The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.
Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.
“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”
“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”
“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.
Satan
Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.
“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”
The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”
“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.
“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”
“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.
“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”
“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”
“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.
“Yes. I care for you most.”
Asmo
It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”
“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”
It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.
“What you said really hurt Asmo.”
“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”
You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.
“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”
“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.
Beel
You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.
You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”
“Hi [Y/N].”
An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”
“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”
Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.
“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”
Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”
You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”
Belphie
It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.
Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.
“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”
“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.
“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”
“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”
“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”
“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”
“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.
It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”
“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”
You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”
The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”
“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”
“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.
“In your own room mister!”
#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#obey me#obey me beelzebub#obey me mammon#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me belphie#obey me beel#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me levi#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me asmo#obey me asmo x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me belpie x reader#lucifer#leviathan#mammon#satan#asmodeous#beelzebub#belphie#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#imagine#scenarios
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Awake
Bakugo x Reader (duh)
wc: 1.7k
A/n: Had a full on mental breakdown yesterday. Tried to sleep tonight. Couldn’t. Wrote this instead. I listened to Rain Clouds by The Arcadian Wolf while writing it and it’s the song that’s referenced in this. I could link it but I’m lazy and depressed so I’m not gonna *dabs sadly*. Anyway here’s a comfort Fic I guess.?
Bakugo: Hey
(2:38AM): uh…hey?
Bakugo: You up?
(2:39 AM): clearly… clearly I’m up Bakugo. Why are you?
Bakugo: Can't sleep.
(2:39 AM): oh. I’m sorry.
Bakugo: Come outside?
(2:40 AM): like outside outside?
Bakugo: What other outside would there fucking be?
(2:41 AM): don’t curse at me stupid. I meant the balcony? Or are we going for a walk or something?
Bakugo: Fine. Nevermind. Forget I asked.
…
…
…
Bakugo: Balcony.
(2:52 AM): gimme five to put on pants.
Bakugo: Ok
(2:52 AM): folk or classical?
Bakugo: Ugh neither.
(2:53 AM): neither wasn’t an option shit head. Pick one.
Bakugo: Whatever you played last time. It helped me feel far away.
(2:54AM): Folk it is.
You put your phone down, the light dying and drawing you back into the darkness of your room. It’s quiet, you can hear him rustling on the other side of the wall, hear the balcony door slide open in his apartment next door and then shut.
You sit in bed for a moment, your heart the only thing thrumming in your ears as you take a deep breath. The city is quiet for the first time in a long time. There are no cars on the street, no sirens, just the sleepy lazy sound of the wind blowing and alley cats slinking through the garbage filled alleyways.
Then you get up, grab a pair of sweatpants and exchange the large holey t-shirt you’re wearing for a comfy but secure cami top. You search around your room for the little Bluetooth speaker and pause when your eyes fall on your acoustic guitar. You smile to yourself, it's perfect. You’ve been thinking about the song, the chords should be easy enough to grasp, and the words have been drifting around your head for days now.
You grab your phone to send him another quick text.
(2:58AM): Change of plans. The roof.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Bakugo: Ok.
He’s up on the roof of your city apartment building before you are, gazing out at the city lights , the moon in the sky blazing white shimmering light through his ash blond locks. He doesn’t turn around or acknowledge your presence when you land delicately on your toes and deactivate your air quirk. He’s wearing a red tank top, must’ve had to change out of the usual black one he wears to bed from all the sweat. His shoulders look broad and you can see the scars rippling down the muscles of his arms.
“Took you long enough, even with your floaty little air quirk,” he taunts, back still to you.
“And yet you’re still here,” you quip back, rolling your eyes and grabbing a crate to sit on. You pull another over and plop it down across from you the same time he turns to join you on the other crate. He has dark circles under his eyes, there’s still a gleam of sweat shimmering on his jaw and neck. He watches in anticipation as you ready the guitar on your leg and hook your arm over it, expert fingers finding the correct chords to strum a lovely tune.
“What’s the occasion?” he asks, gesturing to the guitar. You smile down at the guitar, concentrating on the correct note in your mind to start the song.
“It’s a nice night,” you murmur, eyes still focused on the instrument on your lap.
The muttered “It is now,” is swallowed by the sound of you strumming the strings softly diving into the tune as you rock back and forth. You close your eyes and hear Bakugo take a deep calming breath in and out before you start singing the lyrics.
I'm being frightened by the people
They look at me like I'm a scar upon their perfect skin
Perfect to only them
I'm being shadowed by my past
Reminding me of what I was and what I could become
My sins should stay where they belong
The wind is blowing gently and you can smell Bakugo’s sweet scent on the breeze. His crisp pine scented body wash mixes with his smoky sweet scent and it almost feels like the two of you are sitting around a campfire. Your voice drifts dreamily over the lyrics, enunciating the words and basking in the ease of the notes while putting your own lovely spin on it.
Listen to my voice
Close your frightened eyes
Hide behind my love for you
Fear's only a choice
One that we all must make some day
So know you're not alone in this
It’s clear and strong like a bell, punctuating every phrase with meaning that sits in Bakugo’s core and makes his heart do that weird thing where it’s fluttering but also extremely tranquil at the same time. When you end the song and finally open your eyes, he’s looking at you incredulously.
“How do you do that?”
“Hmm?” you say, placing the guitar against a huge wooden pallet gently.
“How do you fucking do that? Every time. It’s fucking creepy.”
“You mind elaborating, dummy? I’m not a mind reader.”
“Coulda fooled me,” he grunts, rolls his eyes and folds his arms, pouting.
You roll your eyes before chuckling and answer the question you already know he’s asking. “Somewhere out there. Someone has made a song for every feeling you’ve ever felt. So I won’t take credit for that.”
“But you show them to me.”
“Yes,” you say this as if it’s an obvious statement.
“And play them for me.”
“Yes.” Again, another obvious statement. Why wouldn’t you play them for him. It’s why the two of you are here. Right?
“And make them….ya know… sound good and shit,” he says, stuttering over the words as his cheeks and ears start to turn pink.
You smirk, “You can say I sound pretty. I won’t tell anyone you said it,” you tease.
“Tch. Idiot.”
There’s a beat of silence, you’re lost in your thoughts staring up at the starry sky before you look at him again.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You’re going to even if I say no.”
“Correct. Why do you text me when it happens? Why me?”
He shrugs his shoulders, looks away sheepishly and doesn’t meet your questioning gaze. "Don't know.”
You raise a suspicious eyebrow, “Yes you do”
He sighs, holds out a hand to gesture as if it’s obvious. Why would you be asking this? Especially after the many nights the two of you have done this. “Just feels right I guess. And after we talk I can go back to sleep just fine.”
“You realize what that is right?” You lean in closer to him, elbows on your thighs, chin in your hands. “That’s called trusting someone.”
“Sure I guess.”
Another beat of silence and then a long winded sigh from you, one that definitely says “I’m tired of this” and it makes a shiver of fear run up his spine.
“Look Bakugo. I’m not usually one that skates around feelings. And as much as I enjoy late night jam sessions or sneaking out and gazing at the moon with you until you feel ok enough to sleep, I…”
He holds his breath, “What?”
“Hmm…” you have a finger up to your chin in the universal thinking pose.
His heartbeat picks up and his fingers start to fiddle in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Fucking what? You just said you don’t skate around feelings so what?”
You frown at him, “Hold your flippin’ horses I’m thinkin’ first.”
“‘Flippin’ horses?’ You’re such a weirdo.”
And now you’re glaring. "Speaking of thinking before speaking. You should try it.”
“Fuck you.” There’s no hostility to it and he knows you know it.
“Very original. ANYWAY, I was going to say despite your constant attitude and constant shouting, I still really like hanging out with you. So I’d like to not only hang out at…”you pull your phone from your pocket and gaze at the tiny blue screen, “4 AM”
Another pause as he processes his elation. He’s happy you’re not telling him this is the last time. But this isn’t the hard part. “Ok.”
You squint suspiciously. “I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“Then say it aloud to me,” you challenge.
This is the hard part.
He takes a few deep breaths and then… “I don’t wanna be just friends with you. I don’t know what any of that shit even means. All the stupid lovey dovey shit Raccoon Ey-”
“Ashido.”
It’s his turn to glare. “Fine, Ashido talks about all the time. All I know is no one talks to me the way you do. And I always feel calm around you. Calmer than usual. I always wanna hang out more with the idiots when you’re around to hang out with them too.”
You smile but hide it behind your fingertips. He doesn’t look finished so you nod to encourage him to finish.
“And I don't know what it is. But whenever I wake up from the fucking …” He doesn’t say the word “nightmare”. He struggles with it like if he says it he’s surrendering to weakness or something. “Whenever I wake up the only thing I think of is you. Wishing you were there, like a fucking idiot. But it never goes away, not until I text you and I see you and I hear your voice.” His head is in his hands, like he’s ashamed to admit this to you.
It’s quiet again, some cars from below have started bustling on the street. The morning wind carries his scent and the city's waking smells of coffee and fresh baked bread. You stand quietly and walk over to him, head still hanging in his hands as he crouches over on the crate.
You hug him, force yourself between his legs and wrap your arms around his head. And at first he stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you or move out of your grasp. He just sits there with his arms hanging limply at his sides,eyes wide, and your arms wrapped around his head. His ear is pressed against your chest, listening to the city waking around you. You're warm and you smell impossibly good and he knows this is what he craves when he wakes up from those terrifying nightmares. Your embrace is the cure.
“I like being here. I like being there for you.”
Then his arms move up to wrap around your waist and he hugs you back and sighs into your chest. He stays there for at least 10 minutes listening to the steady beating of your heart.
And then he quietly mutters, “Thanks.”
--
#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#marquie writes#yea it’s unedited#I just told y’all I was depressed#sheesh#idk what I’m doing anymore#I’m numb and empty 🙃
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Sunlight - J.P.
James Potter x reader’s morning routine. it’s really just soft morning sex, lol.
a/n: this is my first time writing smut!
word count: 1.9k
warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut, unprotected sex, cursing. like I said it’s my first time writing smut so if I missed anything please let me know!
Masterlist
you woke due to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window. the room was silent, save for the snores of the sleeping body next to you. it was pleasantly warm, the newly arrived spring season prompting you to leave your window cracked open. you could hear birds in the distance and the wind that rustled the leaves outside. you lay for a while on your right side, arm under your head as you listened to the world around you with your eyes closed. you planned out your day, what you and your love would do on your day off.
feeling a hand spread across your back, you smile and roll over on your left side. you get as close to your boyfriend as humanly possible, one leg thrown over his hip and resting your right hand on his chest. james’ right arm goes under you, left arm on top as he hugs you. you bury your head in the crook of his neck as you take a deep breath. he smells like sweat and his faint woody cologne and a smell that is just so him and you smile as you speak, “good morning.”
his arms grip you even tighter, his left hand coming to stroke the hair out of your face. “morning, baby,” he says quietly, placing a kiss on your forehead. he keeps his lips there, pressed loosely against your head as he mimics your deep breath from earlier. his left hand travels down your right arm to your elbow, then back up to cup your cheek. you know what he wants - you always do - and you pick your head up to place your lips on his.
he sighs into the kiss, and you tilt your head to deepen it. james always gets like this in the mornings: clingy and loving, never wanting to take his hands off you, and you love every minute of it. his hand is now on your waist, squeezing tightly and you listen to his silent command, climbing to lay fully on top of him. you’re both bare, so you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your lower stomach as you lean up to set him directly under your core, already slick just from kissing. sometimes it’s embarrassing how fast he can make you needy, your core throbbing as you await his touch. you roll your hips as his tongue makes its way into your mouth to meet yours. you both moan lightly into each others mouth as your hips roll deeper, harder, into his.
it’s always slow in the mornings between the two of you; neither of you are morning people so you take it slow. your usual screams and loud moans are just soft ones and whimpers at this hour, sleep still lingering in your systems. your hips quicken ever so slightly as his hand travel from your hips to your thighs, then back up to rest on your ass, kneading the flesh there, urging you to go faster, go harder, against him. his head rolls back on the pillow as he lets out a low groan and you drag your lips along his jaw, then down his neck, getting to the spot right behind his right ear and sucking there. his left hand comes to hold the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as you kiss the sensitive parts of his neck, letting your teeth graze there lightly. you know he loves to see the marks you leave on him, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t love leaving them. he sucks in a sharp breath as you bring your lips back to his.
“baby,” he stresses. your hips haven’t stopped moving against his, and you know that if you wanted you could finish you both off like this. but you want more - need more, so you bring your lips down harder against his as his right hand travels between the two of you. his fingers make contact with your pussy that’s already made such a pretty mess on his cock and it has him twitching in anticipation as he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping into you ever-so-slightly to gather the wetness there and bring it up to your clit. you jump slightly, always so sensitive for him - something he never lets you forget. you whimper and he shushes you. “you like that?” he asks. he knows the answer but loves to make you talk, loves to hear how your voice gets higher due to how good he makes you feel.
“gonna let me fuck you?” he whispers against your lips, breath tickling your face.
“yes,” you whine, hips oscillating in tiny circles, loving the way his fingertips against your clit create a trail of fire that travels up the base of your spine. you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and you know he hates when you shy away from him, but the pleasure was overwhelming, and it was getting difficult to hold yourself up. mewls leave your throat in time with the tight circles james is drawing against your bundle of nerves.
“I got you, baby, gonna make you feel so good,” he pants, his free hand reaching down to give himself a couple of quick strokes so he can line himself up to your entrance. you take initiative, leaning back and lifting yourself even more so you can sink back down on his cock. you have to go slow, resting both of your hands on his chest while his stroke your sides. he’s patient and you love him for it.
you whimper as he fills you, you feel so full and it makes you warm and makes your toes curl. you clench around him as you get used to him and he moans quietly. he never wants to start until you tell him you’re ready but his hips thrust up involuntarily, and it knocks the breath out of your lungs. you collapse against his chest and bring your hands to his hair as you attack his lips again. he says something but it’s mumbled against your lips. it sounds like an apology, but you don’t reply, instead opting to tentatively roll your hips, feeling the way his cock nudges the deepest parts of you. it’s insane when you think about it sometimes, how it feels like he’s in your tummy. you groan loudly as your clit rubs against his body. the burning sensation in your spine is back now, you’re fully adjusted to his size, so you pick up the pace, grinding against him. he knows this feels best for you, knows you need the extra stimulation so he aids you, grabbing your hips and pulling and pushing you against him, watching your face as you lean up to once again place your hands on his chest.
“that’s it, baby, just like that, fuck,” he’s breathing heavily and the low, raspy tone of his voice causes your stomach to flip and your walls to tighten around his cock. “use me, baby,” he groans.
you let out a loud moan at that, head dropping back on your shoulders as you feel him touch a particularly deep spot inside of you. “feels so good,” you sob. it amazes you that you can even form words, there’s a distracting pull in your lower tummy and you know it won’t be much longer until it snaps. but you know james needs a little more, that extra push to get him there too, so you brace your body on your hands and push yourself up, lifting halfway off his cock before coming back down, relishing in the loud fuck! he lets out. the power you have over him in this moment is intoxicating, and so you do it again and again, until you have a pretty rhythm bouncing on top of him. you know you can’t keep this pace for long and so does he, but he appreciates your commitment to making him feel good. both of his hands come to grab your tits, squeezing the mounds of flesh and running his thumbs over your nipples. the act brings a line of fire straight to your core, where the burning flame has gotten much stronger. you can feel it in your toes, they’re hot and cold at the same time and they curl on their own accord.
“james,” you whine. he knows what you’re asking for so he abandons your tits as his hands return to your hips, holding you up so he can take over thrusting into you. you fall forward with a loud cry, burying you face in his neck as your moans get louder. “please, please, please,” you beg, mind foggy as you can feel the fire licking against your spine. you know you’re close; you just need that one extra push.
“close, baby?” james grunts. he can barely formulate a full sentence either and he’s so close to his release he can taste it. “gonna cum all over my cock, huh?”
you sob even louder as his thrusts go harder, deeper, faster into you. you know he won’t give you what you want until you use your words, so you pick your head up to slot your mouth over his. you only manage a few seconds of sloppy kisses until you’re just panting into each others mouths. “yes,” you answer him, gasping as one of his hands leave your hips to rub tight circles against your clit once again. “yes, yes, yes,” you cry. “i’m gonna cum.”
“shit - baby.” james chokes, his hips stutter and his fingers go incredibly faster against your sensitive bud. he can feel you clenching around him, so tight, and he won’t last much longer. “come on, baby, let me feel you,” he whispers against your lips.
your moans die out into small gasps as the pull in your tummy snaps and the fire explodes. your mind goes blank and you moan loudly against james’ lips. “fuck,” you’re crying now, tears slipping past your waterline and dripping onto james’ face, your orgasm so intense that you barely recognize james’ plea’s. “can i cum inside you, baby? i’m so fucking close - shit.” of course it’s okay, it’s always okay with you but you appreciate that he always asks, makes you feel important and valued.
“please cum inside me, want it so bad,” you whimper, your head resuming it’s position in the crook of his neck, your own orgasm still racking through your body.
james lets out a load groan as his hips stutter once more before dragging your body down against his, keeping you there as he fills you up. his cum is hot inside you and you can feel it begin to slowly leak out as james gives a few weak thrusts in and out of your tired body.
you’re both breathing heavy, sweat is covering your bodies, and you feel so content. his hands are stroking your back now; you’re still shaking slightly and he knows you like to keep him inside as long as possible. he gives you a couple kisses to your temple before you bring your head up to kiss him properly. you lift yourself off of him, wincing as his cock falls from you.
“bath?” he asks. you collapse beside him, smiling up at him as he sits up on the bed and looks at you.
“bath,” you agree, watching as he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. you hear him turn on the water and you close your eyes once more.
“get your pretty ass in here!” he yells, and you softly giggle before getting up and joining your lover.
#james potter#james potter smut#james potter fluff#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter imagine#james potter blurb#james potter one shot#smut#Harry Potter#harry potter smut#sirius black#remus lupin#marauders#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#marauders fluff#marauders smut#marauders era fic
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The Brothers Catch the MC Dancing/Singing By Themselves
So long 2020!!! I’ve been listening to nothing but End-of-Decade Mashups and the 2010s was the decade of club bangers, so excuse me as I write a little happiness at the end of this shitty, shitty year.
Lucifer
Lucifer was in his secret study with the door closed which usually would block out a lot of distractions, but…
The MC was out in the library just blasting this… awful noise!!
Okay, maybe the noise wasn't awful - but as a classical music man, he had no use for the electronic bleep-bloops of whatever the hell they called "music!"
He had tried to put up with it for about an hour… but he had his limits. Soon enough he could feel his fuse dwindling to nothing and he just HAD to open up the door and tell the MC to keep it down!
He just wasn't expecting to find them dancing… while belting their heart out using a feather duster as a microphone…
Oh… wasn’t this amusing~?
For once, Lucifer decided that work could wait for a minute or two as he leaned against the doorframe to watch the MC do their thing, his smile could only be described as somewhere between being highly entertained and genuinely smitten with the off-key goofball in front of him...
The look went away real quick after the MC finally noticed he was there and dropped the feather duster like it was on fire. Shame… They were acting so cute before...
He still had a knowing smile on his face when he asked them to turn their music down some, but he didn’t blow up at them or anything… What can he say? He enjoyed the show. 😏
Mammon
The MC has a nasty habit of singing under their breath when they’re bored. Mammon knew this, of course, and he never stopped straining to try and hear their quiet notes whenever he could...
It was hard to do since they had long trained themselves to keep it quiet in public, but he was certain that from what he could hear, he certainly wouldn’t mind listening to more!
The only exception was when they thought they were alone… like in their bedroom doing homework for example.
Mammon had just happened to pass by their bedroom door (and not going there directly just to bother them because he felt lonely or anything...) and heard something through the door…
It sounded like the MC but different… rhythmic and melodic… That was it!! They were singing!!!
He knew he had to be careful about this... If the MC realized he was listening, then they’d stop and leave him high, dry, and wanting more...
He had to push their bedroom door in incredibly gently so it wouldn’t make any noise… The House was old - okay scratch that, ancient - and all the doors have a creak to them if you’re not careful… but oh, was it worth it…
He knew, he just knew, that he would like their voice! Good or bad, it was all them! Why did they also sing so quietly?? He felt like he could listen for hours!
And he just might have gotten the chance if he had been paying enough attention to notice that he was leaning ever closer into the doorway... The second those rusted hinges made a creak, the MC whipped around and snapped their mouth shut.
Busted...
Unfortunately, no amount of begging got the MC to start singing for him again, so he had to go back to the drawing board… Maybe he’d get to hear them again someday… right?
Leviathan
Levi had been looking for the MC for some time now to see if they wanted to play a game with him but he wasn’t finding them in any of their usual hangouts…
Their bedroom was the last place for him to check and when he stuck his head in he didn’t see them there… But he did heard the sound of running water from their personal bathroom.
He was going to leave, honest! He wasn’t going to be one of those creeps who listens to people shower (despite absolutely being perverted enough to do so) but he recognized a familiar riff coming from the room…
He knew it anywhere. It was from one of his favorite anime openings of all time!! And what’s more? He heard a new voice joining the singer like accompaniment… It was… the MC??
Levi could have probably fainted from delight right then. Even if the MC wasn’t as good at singing, the mere fact that they were singing that opening made his heart soar! Who doesn’t love to sing along to their favorite songs??
He probably should have thought a bit more before throwing the door open to belt out his favorite part like he did because, you know, even behind a shower curtain the MC was naked and definitely not expecting him... But, hey, for five whole seconds they sounded great together!
Annnnd then he ran out of the room, red-faced and shouting semi-mortified apologies right after he realized what he could have seen by doing that (*cough*nakedMC*cough*)...
Poor Levi, but at least he just scored himself a new karaoke partner!
Satan
You ever been so happy about something you just want to go for a run? Or even better, dance? That seemed to have been the case for the MC that day...
The MC’s least favorite subject had just had a test and they received their scores before leaving the classroom the next day. He knew they must have been anxious by how nervously they clutched their paper...
They had been getting tutoring help from him for weeks and it really must have paid off! Satan wasn’t able to catch up to them before they checked their score, but the way their face lit up was a good sign at least.
He was on his way to go congratulate them when… they started to dance. Right in the middle of the school. They kicked up the music on their phone then started dancing down the hallway like nothing could stop them!
It was such a random and carefree act that it frankly blew him away... You’d think a human in a school full of demons would be running, maybe even hiding, but certainty not dancing! What even was their human sometimes...??
He had to hold in some laughter to keep from getting noticed and just followed them down the hallways with a grin on his face and his phone in his hand…
He, of course, posted it to the brothers’ group chat and all of them got to see the wonderful view of the MC shaking their ass to their favorite song of all time… Oh, and they aren’t going to forget that, like, ever. Devious little shit...
Asmodeus
Asmo loves to go clubbing so dancing is just an enjoyable pastime for this man, but he never thought that he’d end up dancing in a dressing room... 🤷♀️
He and the MC were on their weekly trip to Majolish and the MC was behind some curtains in order to try on a new outfit he put together for them. Usually during these times, Asmo waits out in front of their stall distracted by his phone, but this time he actually noticed something...
The MC’s feet. He could see them behind the gap of the curtain moving along to the music playing through the store’s speakers… So they liked this song, hm...?
Honestly, Asmo couldn’t help himself. He ended up getting up from his seat and pulling back the curtain a tiny crack just to see what the MC was doing in their stall... Thankfully, they were already dressed, but they were indeed dancing by themselves hidden just out of his sight...
Now, how could he let them dance all by their lonesome~?
Asmo slipped into the stall himself and caught the MC by the hips, frankly any protest they might of had didn’t really last long as he guided their body along with his.
It was far from their first time dancing together and it always felt amazing when they did… Their every move fit together perfectly like a call and response and it didn’t take long for them to get lost in the music.
Eventually, a store employee began to wonder why they were in there for so long and eventually found two sets of feet in one stall… Really, they got off lucky, because knowing Asmo it was kind of amazing that dancing was all he was doing back there!
Asmo was a far too valuable customer for the store to kick out, so the two of them just got a warning not to do it again but man was it worth it…
The MC has to wear that outfit to their next club. No exceptions!! 😌
Beelzebub
You know, sometimes you just got a rhythm and beat in your soul and it pops out at the most random times… like in the middle of cooking!
Beel was coming into the kitchen looking for yet another snack for the day when he caught the MC already in there baking and… dancing?
They had their phone out to play music while they worked, hips swaying to the beat. Hell, everything they were doing was set to that pace! Every flick of the whisk and stir of the batter was just a part of their private dance sequence.
For a second, he had to wonder if he had just stepped into a musical or something? Dancing while cooking? He hadn’t seen any of his brothers mix those things before… but it worked?? Like, they made it look natural and even a little fun!
Just imagine the look on the MC’s face when Beel came up behind them and pulled them into a twirl behind the counter. It caught them so off-guard that a bag in their hands slipped and covered them both in powdered sugar!
Not that Beel cared about the mess because he just licked his lips clean and told the MC not to stop what they were doing... Which was how the others found them both covered in sugar and moving to the beat while the MC was icing the cake they just finished. 🤷♀️
Lucifer ended up lecturing them both about being more careful in the kitchen but they were too busy sneaking smiles to each other to pay much attention...
Sometimes the music just moves you, you know?
Belphegor
Belphie very rarely gets up from his naps without a little help. Sure, even his body needs to wake up eventually, but it normally takes some kind of outside force to drag him back to the world of the living...
So imagine his surprise when he seemingly woke up for no reason in the middle of his afternoon nap with MC… Or well, he thought there wasn’t reason, until he started paying more attention.
The MC was cuddled up to him like usual, but he could feel a hum against his arm that was coming from their chest. Steady and slow… almost soothing.
When he finally heard a noise in the air - equally soothing as the humming and in time with the vibrations - he put two and two together… Were they singing right now?
Belphie kept himself very still and pretended to be asleep just to check his suspicions and… yeah. He could hear the MC softly singing a human world song under their breath.
Must have been a testament to how besotted this cow man was with them that even hearing their voice that quietly could pull him out of his dreams.
Eventually, Belphie just had to roll over and pull them up against his chest so he could hear them better... Of course, his movement just made them stop, but any idea that they were off the hook got swept away when they heard him grunt:
“Hey, you woke me up… Don’t stop now.”
Let’s hope they know a good lullaby or two...
#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios
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Well, this got longer than I thought it would, so I’ll have to publish in a few parts as I write...
But Happy Birthday, Finn, my favorite :)
Find it here on Ao3
~
Of Silence And Slow Time
part i of iii
~
New York City, 1920
~
Everyone told Finn that the statue looked like him, that he simply must go and see it.
“Really, Finn,” his older brother Alex said. “It’s the eyes, the face, it’s the mouth. It’s uncanny.”
Finn had just looked over Alex and the man and woman he seemed to always have at his side ever since the war ended. Natalie, a nurse whom he’d met in France, and Kasey a Canadian from another unit—they’d ended up in the hospital together.
“It’s in France,” Finn said flatly. “I know you’re forgetting about it all, but I’m not exactly keen on going back there. It took me ages to get home.”
It had taken everything for him to get home.
Alex, to Finn’s relief, nodded at Natalie and Kasey to go get themselves a drink at the bar down the street, told them that he’d meet them there. Finn stared down at the book open and unseeing in his lap. He wasn’t even sure what he was reading, on that he wanted to. His mind didn’t seem to follow him just right these days. Cars became bombs sometimes. Sleep was all dreams.
Alex sat beside him on their parents’ old sofa.
“Fish,” Alex said softly, and moved his hand slow, where Finn could see it, before resting it gently around his shoulders. “You can’t sit here all day. That’s not going to help you, and I know you don’t like it. You’ve never sat still like this.”
“I’m not going back to France.”
“It’s Paris,” Alex said, and gently flipped Finn’s wrist over to reveal the tiny globe his friend Jackson had dotted there with a needle and ink. “You’ve always wanted…don’t let this war stop you any longer.”
Finn stared down at the reminder he’d asked his friend for, ink permanent black. He’d never been farther than New England before the war. Paris, he’d always thought, gazing at his collection of books. Rome. Athens, Barcelona—
Finn swallowed hard. “Looks just like me, huh?”
Alex’s grin was enough to pull one out of Finn, just slightly. “It was bizarre.” Alex squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll even meet you there later if you want, once we’re through with Canada.”
Finn sent a wary glance towards where Natalie and Kasey had left.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’d like them. And, who knows who you’ll meet over there. We ran into all sorts of people, people like you’ve never seen. It’s why—” Alex broke off slightly, and looked after the nurse and soldier, too. Finn blinked at the nervous bob of his throat, and then his smile. “There are all sorts of love and art in this world of ours. I know it feels like it’s all war, I felt that too, but it’s not. Please let me help you see that.”
Finn rubbed a thumb over his tattoo, and closed his book.
Everything felt like war. He was so tired of it he thought he’d be crushed.
He looked up at his brother. “I don’t have much money.”
Alex just grinned and slapped him on the back, then pulled him into a tight embrace.
~
Finn arrived in Paris with a lump in his throat. He stumbled through half-French greetings and requests to his taxi, who looked at him sourly and turned out to have dropped him off four streets away from his hotel—maybe on purpose. Maybe because it was barely six in the morning.
Finn was annoyed at first, and then he began to walk.
Paris’ cobblestones were like those in the West Village, only they weren’t. There were glimpses of his home in the uneven tread of his feet, but these stones were darker, as if soaked with more time and more place. It calmed him, while the brief glance towards France’s rolling hills had sent him back to his cabin on the rocky ship, shaking and gasping for air. He’d barely eaten during the entire journey besides forcing down the occasional breakfast sludge, and his legs had wobbled so fiercely upon stepping back onto land, he’d had to sit down.
Finn paused now, closing his eyes and leaning against the nearest building. He’d been so stupid the first time, decked out in his new uniform, eyes on the war like it was some prize to be won. The comfort waned with his scattering mind and Finn tried to draw a steady breath in. The lump in his throat only grew tighter and he squeezed the handle of his small suitcase.
“Monsieur?” came a voice, spilled over with concern.
Finn’s eyes flashed open and he pushed himself straight, blinking through the pale morning light. There was a boy standing there, around his age, with bright blond hair and worried blue eyes. He was tall, with a neat white apron tied around his hips.
“Ça va?” the boy took a hesitant step forward. His eyes glanced towards Finn’s suitcase, and he nodded in realization, then spoke in accented English. “Are you all right?”
Finn looked behind the boy to see the cafe, slowly opening, from which he must have come. There was an abandoned stack of chairs he was putting out for the day, and his apron had an embroidered name at one corner, Finn realized, that matched the sign above.
Le Lion.
“Yes,” Finn breathed, but found himself unable to speak louder. “I’m fine.”
The boy just shook his head, and gestured behind him. “Non. You must sit down. S’il vous plaît. Please.”
Finn didn’t know how to refuse him.
A few minutes later, he found himself stationed at one of the cafe’s tables with a steaming pot of coffee in front of him, a croissant, and a plate of softly scrambled eggs.
“You look like you need more than butter and bread,” the boy had said, wiping strong looking hands on his apron. “You are from America?”
Finn nodded. He had been worried he would be able to stomach the food after the boy went through so much trouble, but upon his first bite of eggs, he felt ravenous.
“Yes,” Finn nodded, brushing his hands off from croissant crumbs. “Sorry, yes,” he held out his hand. “Finn.”
“Leo,” the boy smiled, and took his hand. “It is a pleasure.”
Finn found himself returning that smile with one that, for the first time in a long time, felt like his own. He tried to put coins into Leo’s hand when it was all over, but Leo simply waved him off and said he hoped to see Finn again.
~
The Louvre was more than Finn could have imagined. It was like walking across the ocean floor, new rarities at every corner. And, of course, there was the matter of the statue. Alex had said it would be with all the other works from ancient Greece. He didn’t have trouble following the signs to the correct gallery, walking through the white marble hallways. When he did reach the Greek galleries, his first thought was that the perfectly white statues nearly blended in with everything else, at least until he found a plaque that said it had all been painted once. Finn smiled to himself. Maybe his apparent stony doppelgänger had had red hair, too.
Imagining Alex and his long stride in these halls was easy. And it was quiet here, and distracting, which let Finn close his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of old stone, like a church, or a river’s bank.
When he opened them, he had found it. He was staring into his own face. His eyes were blank. He reached up to feel the shape of his own jaw as he looked at the statue’s, on display in the way the head was slightly turned, jaw set, brow low, as if in focus. Finn blinked, pulled out of the daze of seeing it, and his eyes landed on the museum card beside it. There was a word in ancient Greek, said to have been carved more visibly into the bust’s base. Future, it translated to. Thought to be made in the name of a God, though he may be lost now. There is no other surviving work by this artist.
Finn looked back at the eyes, so much like his own he could have seen brown there in the blank irises, and thought about when this strange statue had been carved. He’d always loved the way ancient Greece was sometimes described in poetry. It had gotten him through many long nights in the trenches. Serene, warm, and with nothing to do but lounge in the olive groves. Working the land and coming home at sundown to wine and honey and spiced meat. He’d longed for it. He longed for it still, this simple-seeming past.
The next thing he felt was warm wind. He smelled salt water.
The museum melted around him and his shoes slipped into sand before disappearing entirely.
~
Finn turned around to the sound of someone shouting, worried it was at him, only to find a brunette boy storming towards him—then past him—a foreign language continuing to fly off of his tongue. But more importantly, the boy was dressed in a simple garment of white cloth that left his strong, tanned legs and arms completely bare, and his feet were sandaled. Finn reached down to smooth his suit, only to find it gone, as well, replaced with a similar getup. He stared down at his bare skin, so pale in the bright sunlight.
And then the foreign language morphed, like a scratched record, and became English to his ears.
“—I’m telling you, Leo, I won’t go. Not without you.”
Leo?
And there the blond boy was, sitting in the shade of low trees at the edge of the beach. He was holding some sort of musical instrument, plucking at its strings almost sadly, head bowed.
“You have to,” Leo replied. “The oath says—“
He stopped mid-sentence, having looked up and spotted Finn. It made the brunette turn, and then Finn’s back was in the sand and there was a thin, rough blade at his throat.
Green eyes bore down into his own, a growl ripping from the boy’s throat. “Spartan.”
Finn choked out a breath, his hand going around the boy’s wrist. “No—no.”
“Logan,” came Leo’s voice, and then the knife’s pressure was released, pulled back by Leo, but the boy—Logan—was still sitting firmly on Finn’s hips. Finn felt his entire body flush with the sheer lack of fabric between them, but Logan didn’t seem to either mind or notice.
“I’m not a—Spartan,” Finn managed. “What the hell, I…” He looked to his left, at the sparkling waves lapping there, and then to the two boys looming above him. “Where am I?”
That made both of them freeze, the knife twitching in Logan’s hand.
“Ithaca,” Leo offered timidly, then glanced out at sea, as if that was where Finn had come from. Finn just stared at him.
He was the boy from the cafe. He was sure of it. His blue eyes filled with the same concern as they had on that early morning cobblestone street.
“Are you all right?” Leo asked.
“He is a spy,” Logan said, and went for him again.
Finn was ready this time. He knocked a leg around Logan’s waist, putting him on his back, and then rolled away from him and to his feet, knife in hand. He raised it for the two of them to see and then tossed it a little ways down the beach. “I’m not a spy. I…I’m just lost.”
It was true. In more ways than he’d even thought before.
“Please,” he managed more quietly.
He watched Leo and Logan exchange a look, unsure of what it meant, until Logan turned on his heel and Leo gestured for Finn to follow.
~
“Are you at war?” Finn asked he was led through the city streets. It had been a hot walk up a long road built into a steep hill, all the way up to what Finn assumed was the inner city and acropolis. Water ran along the side of the street—no doubt with sewage—and they crossed via stepping stones, pressing themselves against the walls whenever carts rattled by—carts filled with men with shields and swords or spears.
Logan, who brought up the rear behind him, having retrieved his knife, scoffed. “Aren’t we always?”
“And where are you taking me?”
“Where we take any question we can’t answer,” Leo said from in front of him, golden hair gleaming. “Pascal.”
#finn o'hara#hazelverse#Logan tremblay#Leo knut#o'knutzy#historical#historical au#ancient greece#1920#wwi
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18, 15, 11 for sadness! love your fics sm
18) "Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.”
Jiang Cheng is four when he writes something to his soulmate for the first time. He begged his sister to teach him to write hello, just so that he could let his soulmate know that he’s there and thinking of them and today his sister finally deemed his strokes readable enough to write them out.
Jiang Cheng’s hand shakes a bit—the brush still too big in his tiny hand—but under Jiang Yanli’s watchful eye he manages to write it down on his arm in a way that is at least readable.
“I did it!” Jiang Cheng yells excitedly when he is done and Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his head, clearly proud of him.
“And now we wait,” she says and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, his arm always in sight so that he doesn’t miss his soulmate’s reply.
It doesn’t take long at all for some new characters to show up, but they are a lot more complicated than what Jiang Cheng just wrote, and he’s not yet old enough to read them properly.
He eagerly holds his arm out for Jiang Yanli to read his soulmate’s message out to him, but he knows something is wrong when her face falls.
“What does it say, a-jie?” he still wants to know and Jiang Yanli pats his head again.
“It says ‘don’t write again’,” she reads out for him and Jiang Cheng pouts.
“That’s not very nice,” he mutters and climbs into Jiang Yanli’s lap when she pulls him over.
“No, it’s not. But it means your soulmate is older than you,” she says and flicks his nose.
“Like you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Jiang Yanli laughs.
“Maybe, yes,” she gives back and Jiang Cheng stares at the characters on his arm again.
He has a soulmate! And they are older than him!
“I will draw for them,” Jiang Cheng decides, because his mother berated him often enough that doodling odd shapes on his papers is actually not the same as properly writing characters, and his soulmate only told him to stop one of those things.
“You should do that,” Jiang Yanli encourages him though and Jiang Cheng gets started on it right away.
And he doesn’t stop, not even when he doesn’t receive an answer from his soulmate.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is nine when he tells his soulmate his name.
He never again received an answer from his soulmate, but that never stopped him from continuing to doodle on his skin, much to his mother’s despair.
‘My name is Jiang Cheng’ he writes out one day, early in the morning, so he can scrub it off before breakfast and before his mother can say something to him about it.
He fears that his soulmate might not yet be awake and that he won’t get an answer until a much later time, but then he already feels the tell-tale tingle of his soulmate writing something.
Jiang Cheng has only felt it once in his life before, but it’s not a feeling you easily forget.
‘I don’t want to know’ is the reply he receives and Jiang Cheng’s face falls.
He scrubs his own name off his skin and sees with relief that his soulmate does the same on their end, but then the implication of what just happens hits him and he crawls under his blanket again.
His soulmate doesn’t want him. They didn’t even ask for his name before or any other identifying feature and now they didn’t even offer anything in return and Jiang Cheng has to bite back tears at that.
Fine, he thinks after long miserable minutes. If his soulmate doesn’t want him, then he doesn’t want his soulmate either.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is sixteen when he has to watch Wei Wuxian write obscenities on his arms in broad daylight and he’s also sixteen when he has to see Lan Wangji blush as he tries to cover the characters on his arm up.
There’s an ugly feeling forming in his chest and Jiang Cheng knows that it’s jealousy.
It seems like at least Wei Wuxian has a soulmate who is not completely against the match. It’s not like Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli can relate, and that thought at least brings some comfort to Jiang Cheng.
He’s not the only one who’s soulmate doesn’t like them.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is seventeen when his Sect burns and his family dies.
He knows it’s stupid, even as he puts a brush with shaking fingers to his arm, but he has to warn his soulmate.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they are a cultivator or not, if they are in danger or perfectly safe, but he has to warn them to give them a fighting chance.
‘The Wens are attacking. Please stay safe’, he writes out, his strokes barely legible and then everything is a blur.
He does not get a reply from his soulmate.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is eighteen when he goes to war.
He spends three months looking for his brother, before he finds him and brings him home, and then he can only remember battlefield after battlefield.
Jiang Cheng simultaneously doesn’t feel old enough to be doing this and like he has never done anything else as Zidian swings in a wide arch over his head, but then everything blurs again as the next wave of Wen soldiers hit.
He always feels exhausted down to his bones these days but at least he knows that his siblings are safe and that’s more than many of the other soldiers can say.
Jiang Cheng tries not to think about his soulmate too much.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he feels alive for the first time in months as Nie Mingjue pushes him against a wall and follows the motion up with a kiss.
Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s been looking for a while now but then again, who hasn’t? It’s Nie Mingjue after all and Jiang Cheng cannot believe he gets to have this, if even for only one night.
He moves his hands over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, leaning back against the wall and letting Nie Mingjue bite kiss after kiss down the length of his neck.
“This is no strings attached,” Nie Mingjue rasps out between kisses. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”
“I’m not that naïve,” Jiang Cheng bites out, but his voice threatens to break away into a moan when Nie Mingjue sucks at the hinge of his jaw.
Jiang Cheng damn well knows what a war hook-up is, and he’s aware that after this is all done, things will be completely different.
Neither of them will have time to look at the other again, no matter if they even want to or not.
Though Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he really, really wants to. He wouldn’t mind if this became a more regular thing, if he’s being honest, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, which is not that hard when Nie Mingjue lowers his head to kiss a mark into the base of Jiang Cheng’s throat.
“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng pants out and his hands dig into Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Come on, tent, tent!” he gets out despite the mind-blowing things Nie Mingjue is alreadydoing to him and he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to survive the night.
But that is something he can figure out after they’ve had sex. For now, Jiang Cheng pulls Nie Mingjue on top of him again, after he pushed him down onto the bed, and he can’t wait for them to undress.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen and freshly fucked when he finds out that Nie Mingjue is his soulmate.
Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares like he so often is since the burning of Lotus Pier, and despite him being absolute exhausted he can’t fall asleep again.
So he takes his time to admire Nie Mingjue—and reminding himself that this is a one-time thing only—but when he can’t quite keep still anymore he starts to draw shapes onto Nie Mingjue’s arm.
He stopped drawing for his soulmate a long time ago, but it seems like old habits die hard, because Jiang Cheng is just mindlessly drawing shapes into Nie Mingjue’s skin when he feels an answering tingle on his own arm.
Jiang Cheng freezes because surely it can’t be. Surely this is just one big coincident.
He makes the same motion over and over again, always keeping an eye on Nie Mingjue to check that he doesn’t wake up, and Jiang Cheng shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of the same movement on his arm.
“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he doesn’t trust this; Nie Mingjue would have told him.
But now there’s this niggling doubt in Jiang Cheng’s mind so he cranes his head around to check if there are any brushes nearby. When he sees one he quickly gets out of bed to retrieve it, together with some ink, but when he turns around to the bed Nie Mingjue is staring at him.
“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, warily eying the brush in Jiang Cheng’s hand and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng thinks that’s already confirmation enough.
“You’re my soulmate,” Jiang Cheng says, and it feels strange to say it out loud, and he can see how Nie Mingjue immediately closes himself off.
“I’m not. I told you this is just a one time thing, don’t get any ideas in your head.”
“But I’m not just getting any ideas in my head, am I?” Jiang Cheng asks and before Nie Mingjue can say anything else, he dips the brush into the ink and moves it over his arm.
It’s just a wiggly line, but it’s enough because the same line shows up on Nie Mingjue’s arm, no matter how much he tries to hide it by pulling the blanket up.
“What the fuck, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then the anger bubbles over.
He always thought he was more sad that his soulmate doesn’t want him, but it seems like the anger was not far off, either.
“It doesn’t matter,“ Nie Mingjue snaps out turning away from Jiang Cheng.
“You could have at least told me. You could have at least told me that you don’t want me,” Jiang Cheng says and he puts the brush down with deliberately careful movements, because otherwise he might just break it.
“It’s not even—” Nie Mingjue starts but he cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter, Wanyin. We’re at war!”
“We weren’t when I was four, or nine, or fifteen, or any other time,” Jiang Cheng spits back because what kind of excuse is that even. “What are your excuses for those times, huh?”
“I’m going to die young, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and suddenly he sounds tired. “Either I die in two days, or in two years at best, but it’s going to be young. And I wasn’t about to do that to any soulmate. I’m not about to do that to you.”
That confession leaves Jiang Cheng speechless for a moment, before he manages to hold on to his anger again.
“So you just thought you’d fuck me once and be done with it?” he hisses and he can see how Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.
It feels like a very hollow victory.
“I just thought—I thought I could have this, at least for one night. Know how it felt like to be with someone that was intended for me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he’s still not meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.
“You could have had it earlier. You can have it after we kill Wen Ruohan, too,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he doesn’t quite understand why Nie Mingjue is so pessimistic about everything.
Jiang Cheng is the one who already lost everything, and even he has more hope than Nie Mingjue it seems.
“I’m not sure—the assault in two days—” Nie Mingjue starts, but he trails off with a shrug. “There’s so much that can go wrong.”
“Then don’t lead it,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, but of course Nie Mingjue only laughs at that suggestion.
“You think I really could just send our people to die, while I stay behind? While I stay safe? Maybe we’re not made for each other, after all,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together.
“Don’t you dare,” Jiang Cheng hisses, because how dare Nie Mingjue try to turn it around like this. “The intel we got from Lan Xichen’s spy was good so far, wasn’t it? What makes you think this one will be different?”
“It’s too good,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh. “Something is bound to go wrong sooner or later and with our luck it’s sooner. All it needs is one missed troupe movement; one wrong time and we’re all done for.”
“You really don’t think you’re going to survive that mission,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can hear the quiet acceptance in Nie Mingjue’s voice.
“It doesn’t matter if I do or not, Wanyin. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Mingjue? Please do enlighten me, because so far it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”
“I’m going to die young. It doesn’t matter if it happens at Wen Ruohan’s hands or if I succumb to a qi deviation, but I probably don’t have more than two to three years left. You really think I want you to suffer through that?”
“What do you mean, qi deviation? You seem perfectly healthy.”
“It’s a family thing,” Nie Mingjue tiredly says and scrubs a hand over his face. “My father died of one as did his father before. As will I.”
“I thought Wen Ruohan killed your father,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he shrugs awkwardly when Nie Mingjue stares in surprise at him. “What? I was the Sect heir, even back then. I did listen to politics and I heard you loud and clear.”
“Well, then you heard more than the other Sects did,” Nie Mingjue says with a bitter smile, but then he sighs. “It’s part of our cultivational style,” he then admits but Jiang Cheng won’t have it.
“No. I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t use that as an excuse, because I will find a way to prevent that.”
“And how are you going to do what my father and his father and his father couldn’t, huh?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, but he slightly turned towards Jiang Cheng, which gives him more hope than it probably should.
“Dual cultivation, for one,” Jiang Cheng says. “Your father’s wives were already dead when it happened, right? That could help. That could give you time.”
“It’s not a permanent solution,” Nie Mingjue warns him and Jiang Cheng stubbornly shakes his head.
“But it will give me enough time to figure something else out. Our Clarity Bells are not called like that for nothing,” Jiang Cheng admits, his eyes falling to the bell fastened to his belt. “We don’t make a big deal out of it, but we Jiangs are pretty good healers.”
“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Cheng can tell that he still wants to tell him no.
“One good reason, Mingjue. Give me one good reason why not, especially now that I know. Something apart from your qi deviations.”
“The mission in two days,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back. “I don’t have a good feeling about it and it’s more than likely that we both won’t survive the war at all.”
“So you just make sure you survive the mission and then we can give this a try, is that what you’re saying.”
“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.
“No, tell me,” he begs, because he needs to know if there are other reasons for Nie Mingjue to hold back all this time. “It’s—if you have a problem with me, just tell me that and we can move on, but don’t use these excuses.”
“Why would I have a problem with you?” Nie Mingjue asks and he seems honestly taken off guard by that. “Did you already forget what we just did? Why would I do that if I want nothing to do with you?”
“I don’t know, Mingjue, I’m not the one who willingly stayed away from my soulmate since he was four,” Jiang Cheng bitterly shoots back and Nie Mingjue’s entire face softens.
“Wanyin,” he breathes out and then he offers his hand to Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin, come here,” he cajoles him and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to go to him.
He slides their hands together and when Nie Mingjue tugs him onto the bed, Jiang Cheng snuggles into his side. He can feel that Nie Mingjue is still reluctant, but in the end he puts his arm around Jiang Cheng.
“My father didn’t make a secret out of my fate,” Nie Mingjue admits. “By the time you wrote me that very first time, I already knew I wouldn’t live past 25.”
“It won’t happen,” Jiang Cheng says again, because maybe if he just says it often enough he can will it to become true.
“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue amends and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But back then—I just didn’t want to do that to you. And then you told me your name and suddenly I had a face to go with my soulmate and it honestly just made things so much more difficult. Huaisang kept me updated on you and Xichen couldn’t stop talking about how Lan Qiren likes you and I knew I could only make you unhappy, so I stayed away.”
Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath.
“And then you lost your family, your Sect; even your brother for a while. I wasn’t going to add to that misery.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Jiang Cheng says, and he is honestly a bit choked up, but he will still not allow this. “But I refuse to be coddled. Yes, I already lost everything; I’m not about to lose you, too.”
“This is not something you can out-stubborn,” Nie Mingjue tries, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand why he still simply won’t accept that he’s settled with Jiang Cheng now.
“Did you see the people I brought to this fight? I out-stubborned the destruction of my Sect, your health problem is nothing to me,” he says, much more confident than he really feels, but he’s sure if Nie Mingjue would just give them a chance, they can figure something out.
“God, I adore you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.
“Then finally accept that I’m your soulmate and that I’m here to stay,” Jiang Cheng bites out, furiously trying to keep the blush off his face, but of course he’s failing.
“After the mission,” Nie Mingjue amends. “After the war. If we survive this—then we can try.”
Jiang Cheng is not happy with that, not at all, but it’s better than anything else he got so far, and so he’ll take it.
“Okay.”
“But promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for everyone. They will need a new leader and Xichen isn’t cut out for this,” Nie Mingjue says.
“Fine,” Jiang Cheng gets out, trying to keep his tears back, because Nie Mingjue is already so convinced that he won’t survive this, it’s almost like he’s already dead. “But Wen Ruohan doesn’t get to kill you, too.”
“Okay,” Nie Mingjue soothingly whispers and while Jiang Cheng is aware that there’s still a lot to talk about, he doesn’t resist when Nie Mingjue pulls him down with him again.
They can talk after the war.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he hears that Nie Mingjue and his people have been caught; the mission was a trap, just like Nie Mingjue feared and now he’s in Wen Ruohan’s hands.
When Jiang Cheng brings a brush with shaking hands to his skin, it almost feels familiar, but in the last second he thinks better of it. He can’t let Wen Ruohan know that Nie Mingjue has a soulmate; the man is already sadistic enough. Who knows what he will come up with to torture Nie Mingjue.
So Jiang Cheng can do nothing more but to trace shapes into his skin over and over again, hoping that Nie Mingjue can feel him.
Apart from that, Jiang Cheng can only fight.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when Meng Yao stabs Wen Ruohan and just like that the war is won.
Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to celebrate with the other’s just yet; he needs to find his soulmate first, before he can get to that.
He makes his way into the palace, letting his instincts guide him deeper and deeper inside, until he finally finds the throne room.
Nie Mingjue is there, laid out on the floor, and for a split second Jiang Cheng is afraid that he’s too late; that all of Nie Mingjue’s dark premonitions were true and that this is it for them.
“Mingjue,” he yells, running up to Nie Mingjue and skidding to a stop on his knees right by his side.
He’s almost afraid to touch him, to feel his cold skin, but then Nie Mingjue’s eyelids flutter and Jiang Cheng could sob with relief.
“Mingjue,” he whispers again and pulls Nie Mingjue up, so that he’s laying in his lap.
“Don’t trust him,” Nie Mingjue mutters, turning towards Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao. Don’t trust him.”
“Okay,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, and if this is important enough for Nie Mingjue to tell him in this state, then he will heed his warning. “I got you now, don’t worry.”
“Didn’t die,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile, even though Jiang Cheng can tell that he must be in agonizing pain, judging by the wounds all over him.
“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he thanks all the gods for that, as he leans down to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead.
“You get your chance, then,” Nie Mingjue says and raises a hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s face. “I didn’t die, so you get to find a way to keep me alive.”
“Done,” Jiang Cheng promises him and covers Nie Mingjue’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is nineteen when his brother-in-law, his sister and his brother die in quick succession.
He wants to crumble with his grief, but the baby in his arms relies on him to stand and it’s not like Nie Mingjue would let him fall, either.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is twenty-one when he marries Nie Mingjue, and despite how close his grief still is, it’s the happiest day of his life.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is twenty-three when Nie Mingjue starts to suffer qi deviations. While Jiang Cheng hates to see his husband suffer like that, it finally gives him the opportunity to see what the Clarity Bell can do for him, and from then on it’s almost easy for him to figure out how to make it have a permanent effect on Nie Mingjue.
~*~*~
Jiang Cheng is twenty-six when he and Nie Mingjue adopt a little sister for Jin Ling and when Jiang Cheng looks at the tiny four-year-old held securely in Nie Mingjue’s arms, who’s beaming with happiness, Jiang Cheng wonders what’s in store for her life.
It’s not like he could have ever imagined to end up this happy when he was four and he hopes his daughter will have the same happiness waiting for her.
Dialogue Prompts
Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!
#bt writes#mingcheng#soulmates#hurt/comfort#angst#fluff#getting together#canon-compliant#mostly at least#the untamed#mdzs#jiang cheng#nie mingjue#anon
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The Owl House Starters
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“No! My only weakness! Dying!”
“That doesn’t count, right?”
“Do you have any friends? Real ones?”
“Tiny trash thief!”
“Oops, that happens sometimes.”
“I’m a squirmy little fella.”
“I like food, I like love, just let me write about it!”
“Oh, he gets so cute when he’s thirsty for power.”
“I’ve never actually broken any of your stupid laws… in front of you.”
“I hate everything you’re saying right now.”
“We’d be the strongest power couple ever.”
“Self-doubt is a prison you can never escape from.”
“Anyways, let’s bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.”
“I am not your cutie pie!”
“No one wants an un-oiled snake.”
“Remember, never befriend a man in sandals and always measure twice, cut once.”
“Be back by nightfall or risk mortal peril!”
“I know I’ve had enough delight for one day.”
“Sorry to break it to you, ___, but no one here is that well-dressed.”
“This has been a rough day.”
“Big houses always belong to big whack jobs.”
“Today just got good.”
“Wizards are just old people with glitter in their pockets.”
“Anyways, your food is gone and we are too.”
“Never trust a man in casual drapery.”
“All that mean-spirited laughter made me sleepy.”
“I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”
“All your food was so tiny and cute.”
“If you can think of a better plan I’d love to hear it.”
“Betrayed by my own cool accessories.”
“I didn’t have to be part of this!”
“I… don’t like this.”
“I think I’ll head home and look at pictures of animals that are still… alive.”
“Wow, you’re so unnoticeable I almost rolled into you.”
“It’s okay, the thorns only went through a few layers of skin.”
“Alright, into the darkness you go.”
“Oh my god, I haven’t eaten real food in so long please give me some.”
“You can’t just cut open a human, can you?”
“Keeping junk in my pocket saved my life!”
“Ahh, baby’s first wanted poster.”
“Even demons have inner demons.”
“This is my paying attention face.”
“Look, now we’re boo boo buddies.”
“It’s like a rainbow, but looking at it turns you inside out.”
“I respect your cunning but I also hate you for it.”
“Oh, gross. Can I keep that?”
“This is terrifying, so why do you look so happy?”
“Oh no, a twist!”
“I’m kind of over that nickname, but okay.”
“Oh, what lovely thing do we have here? It’s just so dang shiny, oh my.”
“And look, I drew flip book.”
“I will literally do anything to stop this.”
“If I’m seen, I could go to jail… again.”
“Alright, let’s see this mess.”
“That’s probably fine.”
“Time to prepare for bloodshed.”
“Welcome down to my level!”
“I know I should be repulsed but that look is fierce.”
“I’m gonna steal everything that’s not nailed down!”
“I was up all night poison tasting and, for some reason, I don’t feel great.”
“I need an extra pair of eyes looking out for pickpockets. And an extra pair of hands in case I want to pickpocket.”
“I got leaves in my pants. And I like it.”
“I was a strange child.”
“You think this can stop me? I can still bite your ankles.”
“If you’re gonna eat me, just do it now!”
“___, you’re getting all swoony again.”
“Rivals are meant to be annihilated, not befriended.”
“Witches eating babies is so 1693.”
“Ugh, you.”
“I thought we were as cool as cucumbers but we’re as sour as pickles.”
“Whoa, I almost passed out.”
“It’s been hours, how can it keep screaming!?”
“Say that again and I steal your tongue.”
“Keep going, this is fun to watch.”
“Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?”
“Just go away before things somehow get worse!”
“This never happened.”
“And who doesn’t like their name in lights?”
“That’s the incorrect reaction!”
“I smell an easy mark.”
“Well, I hate her.”
“It’s like demonic possession with the ones you love.”
“This is just like my favorite early 2000’s movie!”
“I’m so old… and pointy.”
“I’ve got some very confusing emotions right now.”
“My life’s not a joke! But yours is!”
“Novelty costumes are where I draw the line.”
“I am not above disrespecting my elders.”
“This vacation just took an alarming, back-alley turn.”
“Geez, I thought I’d like being babied. But I feel small and helpless, like some sort of baby.”
“Hey, take this, society!”
“I didn’t like her telling me what to do before, but now I love it!”
“Let’s go let out some teen angst!”
“This is how the cool kids ride. Super backwards, on purpose.”
“Your life is pretty terrible. But, hey, it’ll probably be over soon.”
“This is some of my best work, really captures the shame.”
“That’s sweet, kid. Now let’s never speak of this again.”
“Show, don’t tell, man.”
“Oh, look what you did. I’m gonna go rub it in.”
“That seems like a potential problem to me.”
“You being the razzle, I’ll bring the dazzle.”
“Do you always have confetti on you or—?”
“You’re just gonna be unhelpful, huh?”
“Okay, time to run for no particular reason!”
“Oof, I’ve had this nightmare before.”
“Like I’d actually apologize.”
“I want power, and I want drama.”
“Are you ready to give up?”
“I was afraid, I acted stupid.”
“I just wish you told me the truth.”
“You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I thought I would.”
“Impressive, still alive.”
“This is a throne worthy of a tyrant!”
“No, no, keep those sticky hands away.”
“No one wants to see that.”
“Since when are you into sports?”
“Gross, sympathy.”
“Don’t spend all night plotting revenge.”
“Oh, this is an interesting development.”
“I’ll take that weird grumble as a yes.”
“I’m feeling confident about this plan.”
“Trust must be earned.”
“If you run, you’ll just make it harder for yourself!”
“Your pride has destroyed you.”
“So tiny, so angry.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.”
“If you ever want to search for the truth, I’ll help you.”
“Aww, that’s a horrible lie.”
“Partake of my free snack samples!”
“Why isn’t anyone paying attention to me?”
“A, eww. B, I’m bored. C, I feel like pickpocketing some dork while they browse.”
“I know my good angle.”
“Ugh, what are the basement dwellers doing out in natural sunlight?’
“Hey, there’s more to life than shipping.”
“___, I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re crossing a line.”
“Ooh, I love punching.”
“You’re ominous, and I like it.”
“And of course you would be here just to be a nuisance.”
“I wanted to compare sunglasses.”
“Fame can really box you in, you know?”
“Besides, if anyone’s putting you down it’s gonna be me.”
“If it’s disappointing in any way I’ll spend the rest of my life trashing it.”
“He scammed us. Can you believe he scammed us?”
“Good entrance. But that outfit? Hah!”
“I’ve got a new crush and her name is education!”
“Ahh, fresh garbage.”
“I have never seen such an extravagant earring.”
“Wow, a surprisingly peaceful domestic moment. When will it be ruined?”
“Weaponizing my pride, well played.”
“Sorry, whoever’s over there!”
“Well, go on. Eat the snow.”
“Huh, it’s no fun if they don’t tremble.”
“Oh, okay, alright. Yup, an idea’s happening.”
“Shh! I don’t need your validation!”
“Get back here before that thing bites you!”
“No, we’re gonna die.”
“Cool. I didn’t actually think you could do it.”
“It’s not a secret.”
“Alright, your adorable banter is literally making me sick.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”
“Aww. I won’t be doing that, but thanks.”
“Quitting: it’s like trying, but easier.”
“You humans are filled with liquids, right?”
“I guess I have always liked pouring things into other things.”
“Time to scrounge through the trash.”
“I ain’t no desk jockey.”
“You don’t know diddly dang about squiddly squat!”
“I love secret rooms!”
“You have an aura of lies.”
“Also, you can eat trash.”
“Do the right thing, you dingus!”
“It just goes on like this for an hour.”
“Carnivals bring crowds and crowds bring suckers.”
“We’ve got scams to run.”
“I know poison when I see it.”
“You can’t scam a scammer.”
“You should really put a lock on your closet.”
“I love crimes!”
“Now this is my kind of weird.”
“That’s way safer than becoming blood brothers.”
“Beat up the man and steal his things for me.”
“This mama is ready for trauma.”
“All right. Approval!”
“Curse these stubby legs!”
“Sketchy carnival rides are not to blame this time.”
“___, you’re lucky I can’t be mad at your adorable antics.”
“Just when I thought I couldn’t respect the law any less…”
“Aww, what a supportive sign.”
“Yep, I just counted to one million.”
“Looks like we ruined his life for a second time.”
“I’ve always wanted to own a jagged piece of cheap metal.”
“Yes! Bread puns, bread puns forever!”
“Now I know what friendship tastes like.”
“I think today is a talons day.”
“It’s fun because it’s stupid.”
“I’ll admit, I was adorable.”
“Be careful with my brain.”
“Wouldn’t you rather talk about it?”
“That’s my motto after all, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’”
“No schemes, no plots, no ruses. None.”
“I can’t believe I made him cry.”
“Are you solving a crime or about to commit one?”
“Sadly this is one problem crime can’t solve.”
“I’m supposed to choose someone interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy. People aren’t meant to be all those things!”
“Yup, her brain’s burned up real good.”
“Be still my fantasy-loving heart.”
“I’m pretty good at getting stuck inside people’s heads.”
“Hey, I found something magical.”
“I’ma put my face in it.”
“It’s like a little doghouse for angels.”
“If you’re handing out attention, I deserve it.”
“Eww, I mean, aww.”
“I really messed things up.”
“It’s eggs, it’s full of eggs.”
“No one turns down an interview with someone this pretty.”
“Me? Avoid? What? No. But let’s skip it.”
“There’s levels to me, kid. Levels I say!”
“Oh, right, I put people in there.”
“I’m gonna hug you so hard you’ll never forget me again!”
“I regret teaching you about the internet.”
“Ah, a severed hand. Perfect response.”
“Hmm, the demon at my shoulder makes a good point.”
“Always trust a shoulder demon.”
“The more I look at him, the more uncomfortable I get.”
“Man, you’ve got some quick grabbers.”
“I can’t wait to get overdressed, take awkward photos, push all the buttons!”
“We’re gonna turn this bloodbath into a fun bath.”
“Do you think I could pull off red eyeshadow?”
“Girl, you could pull off anything.”
“We’re style geniuses!”
“Ominous footsteps, creepy woods, this is no problem.”
“Dang, I look great.”
“___, you always go overboard and I end up bailing you out.”
“Now, what’s the fun in watching a kid get eaten by a monster if it’s my kid?”
“___, I don’t think you’re ready but we’re literally out of time.”
“Why so twitchy, witchy?”
“Teenagers are brutal. They’ll boo anyone and that kind of public humiliation will stick with you for life.”
“You look nice. Strange, but nice.”
“Honestly, I’m kind of amazed with how fearless you are.”
“You’ve done things I could never do.”
“Thing is, you’re sitting in my personal chitchat zone, which means you gotta talk.”
“I am a little weirdo.”
“You gotta pander.”
“Cheating a isn’t anything to brag about.”
“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”
“I’ve been talking for too long.”
“Feeling sentimental?”
“I love water.”
“I don’t know much about sports but I do know about sports movies.”
“What happens in the montage stays in the montage.”
“Not everything can be solved with a good attitude and a dope movie soundtrack.”
“Sorry, I just really love backstories.”
“You just destroyed your social life.”
“That’s such a stupid rule!”
“You’re not gonna show this to anyone, right?”
“I haven’t forgotten what you promised me.”
“Ahh, you’re a thorn in my side but you always dig your way into my heart.”
“Jeez, you’re morbid.”
“Ahh, it’s a fate much worse than death if you think about it.”
“Please don’t make me regret taking you here.”
“Love me a properly ventilated castle.”
“I spy with my little eye something coming this way!”
“I’m going away and I don’t know if I can come back this time.”
“And ___, thank you, for being in my life.”
“I want her back as much as you do.”
“Don’t look at me like that, this is for your own good.”
“Ah farts, I got caught.”
“You understand, don’t you?”
“Please tell me that’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“To be great, you have to make sacrifices.”
“Ahh, ___, you chose the wrong side.”
“I like your spirit, but try that again and things won’t end well for you.”
“Go on, then. Go be a hero.”
“I may have lost but so have you.”
“I can teach you what I know, and what we don’t know we can learn together.”
#the owl house#starters#rp starters#sentence starters#sentence starter meme#rp#rp meme#ask meme#long post
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Alright let’s talk about smell dick shigaraki BEFORE U JUDGE JUST HEAR ME OUT,shigaraki having a crush on u (of course) been wanting to be with u but he was too ashamed and embarrassed of his tiny dick, he thinks he never has a chance with u so he gives up, meanwhile u were dying for him to make the first move u end up asking him out, he couldn’t believe it of course he said yes forgetting all about his insecurities,everything went well now ya’ll are making out shit got heated, as u were trying to take his pants off, he started making excuses basically on the verge of tears, u finelly convinced him (ngl u kind of forced him) he started crying, truth be told u never cared about size in all honesty u liked pegging more so it didn’t really matter and u always found shigaraki beautiful, meanwhile shigaraki was having a full on mental down he started to get up since he knows u wouldn’t like him, until u pulled him and pinned him to the bed and pulled ur 11 inche strap on.
Kink pegging, god I love seeing shigaraki crying wtf is wrong with me- anyways I can’t think of anything, dont forget to drink water and get plenty of rest 
-🤡
At first, I was like, ‘mmm small dick Shigaraki,’ as a joke, but bro...I don’t think it’s a joke anymore.
Ok, so y/n’s quirk is a shallow mind-reading quirk. She doesn't know your thoughts, but she does know your urges.
I have loved small dick shiggy for as long as I can remember. He acts all tough just to have this tiny little cock in his pants while he gets all embarrassed maybe even feels like less of a man because society equates having a large dick to being a “real man.”
But u love him and think it’s so cute—little dick for mommy’s little boy.
If you see my writing style change during the smut it's because I either a). Put on a seggsy playlist. Or b). I definitely did not listen to an asmr thing.
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‘So pretty,’ Shigaraki thought, drinking you in, ‘god I wish you were mine, y/n,’
You were sat at the table with most of the league playing Uno with dabi.
“Draw four motherfucker, ” you said, slamming the card down.
He cursed under his breath, “fucking bitch, ”
As he picked up his cards, Dabi questioned why he decided to put himself through this bullshit, why did he choose to suffer? You always beat his ass.
He put down a card, watching you slap down your next card.
“Uno, ” you said with a shit-eating grin on your face.
You giggled at the look of absolute rage on his face. He slammed down his card, and you put your last one down.
“Well, Dabi, I win again, ” you said.
You lifted his chin so he could look at the face of his superior.
“Another round?” you offered.
“Only if you'll make a bet, ” he said.
At the end of the last game, he had noticed the new mirror Kurogiri hung showed your hand.
He stood up and announced to the room, “if I win this game, y/n has to ask out her crush,”
“Hey, who said I had a crush on anyone?” you objected.
“Your texts with Toga, ” he grinned, “but that's beside the point. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want for a week, ”
“Oh, it is on, ” you grinned, “you wanna shuffle the cards?”
He smirked, “doesn't matter to me, go ahead, ”
You shuffled the deck. There was no need for your tricks this round. Dabi’s tricks, however, left you baffled at the outcome of the game.
“I lost?” you whispered in disbelief.
“What are you waiting for, y/n?” Dabi said.
He pulled your chair out and nearly tipped you out of it.
“Dont be shy, ” Dabi whispered, leaning in.
Well, this was it. You had hoped and prayed Shigaraki would make the first move, but you were forced to confront him. You sidestepped dabi much to his confusion and sat next to Shigaraki at the bar.
“Need liquid courage?” he asked, unphased by the whole ordeal.
He hadn't even bothered to get his hopes up.
“No, I'm um here to ask you out, ” you said, looking down, “sorry this is so awkward, I'll just go now, ”
You got up, but he pulled you back onto the chair.
“I’d love to go out with you y/n, ” he said calmly even though his heart was beating out of his chest.
“Really?” You asked.
“Really, ” he confirmed, putting four fingers on each side of your waist.
He leaned in a little, father absent from his face. Your breathing picked up as you followed his lead, brushing your lips against his. For a minute, you had forgotten the whole room was watching in anticipation until they began to cheer. You sighed and tugged him upstairs.
“I don't need them staring at us, ” you said, sitting down on your bed.
“I totally agree, ” Shigaraki said, moving closer to you.
You couldn't help the blush that grew on your cheeks as he slung his arm around your shoulders.
“You're so cute, ” he said, turning your face towards his.
He pressed his lips against your lips. They were perfect though a little chapped from the cold winter weather. You kissed him back eagerly, gripping his hair with your hands. Your fingers slipped through his soft blue hair. He pulled away smiling and pressed his forehead to yours.
“You need to move the mirror downstairs, ” he said, “dabi could see your hand the entire time, ”
“That bitch, ” you muttered.
He chuckled, "I'm glad we're on the same page,"
He pressed another kiss to your lips, slow and steady. You couldn't help but feel a small need inside of you begin to grow. Obviously, you pushed it back down. You didn't want to pressure him so early on. As you spent more time with him, you couldn't help but get more and more turned on by him. You couldn't stop staring at the way the veins in his neck reached down to the slope of his shoulders and disappeared. His sharp jawline made your heart flutter when he turned his head to the side.
The next time you got him alone, you couldn't keep your hands off of him.
"mmph- y/n hold on," he laughed.
You pressed wet, hot kisses to Shigaraki's neck, and he threaded his hands through your hair. You tapped into your quirk, and it seemed he was practically screaming for you to fuck him, but he wasn't hard? You worked harder, pinching and twisting his nipples under his shirt. He was moaning and groaning, but nothing was poking your leg.
"Hey, Tomura, I can tell you want this, but you're not hard," you said, "is there, um, something else I should be doing?"
"no, y/n it's fine don't worry about it," he stammered, "we can go watch a movie or-"
You pushed him down on the bed, getting on top of him.
"Just lemme work my magic, baby," you shushed.
"um, babe, it's just. I-I don't know," he said.
He felt so exposed with his shirt off but taking his pants off? He didn't know if he could do it.
"y/n I-"
"shh," you said, "just lemme help,"
He began to panic as you pulled at the waistband of his pants, but his need outshined his growing fear stopping you from picking up on it. To his dismay, you pulled down his pants and boxers all in one go. He felt the cold air hit his cock, and he began to cry. Shigaraki felt so embarrassed. Why him? Why couldn't he have a body like everyone else's? Why couldn't he be enough for you? He got up, not saying a word until you pulled him back down onto the bed.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I just- I want to be enough for you, but I'm just not,"
You held him, stroking his hair.
"You're more than enough for me. I'll always think you're beautiful," you said, "I don't care about bullshit like that. In fact, I have something better,"
You rifled through the drawer as he wiped away his tears. You pulled out a large strap-on and a bottle of lube. His eyes widened, and his cock twitched (as best it could). You giggled when you saw.
"someone's excited," you teased.
He blushed and nodded, "it um looks good,"
You smeared lube all over it and your fingers.
"Spread your legs, sweetie," you urged.
He did so gladly, exposing himself to you.
"fuck," you muttered under your breath.
He was so fucking gorgeous.
You pushed a finger into him as quickly as you could watching him gasp as his asshole clenched.
“You're very sensitive, ” you observed.
He blushed and pressed the side of his head into the pillow as he was still lying on his back. You guided his face, so he was looking at you.
“I want to see you, Tomura, if that's alright, ” you said.
He nodded once, “I’m okay with that y/n, ”
You smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“You’re being a very good boy Tomura, ” you praised, “my good boy, ”
You started moving the finger again, circling and stretching his tight hole. He whimpered as you pushed in another finger. Despite feeling good, the experience was still a bit uncomfortable. Tomura bucked into your hand once he was used to the sensation. You watched in amazement as he acclimated so quickly; he was excellent at everything he did. How could one man be so perfect?
“More, ” he whispered, “please y/n. Give me more, ”
You kissed him much harder than before.
“Anything for you, ” you promise as you add in a third finger.
He squirmed and moaned while you prepared him. Your other hand grabbed the dripping toy. You pulled out your fingers, and he gulped.
‘How is that supposed to fit inside of me?’
You put it in inch by inch as he gasped and groaned.
“It feels s-so good y/n, ” he gasped.
You were only halfway in, and he was already losing his mind. His small cock was producing what seemed like a constant stream of pre-cum. Three-fourths of the way in, he started to struggle to accommodate the large toy. But he took a deep breath and let you push the rest inside. Once it's in all the way, he couldn't help but cry. It hurts.
“Take deep breathes for me, ” you said as you cupped your lover's face and left soft kisses all over.
He shook his head, “can’t. it h-hurts y/n, ”
You held him, kissing his forehead.
“It's okay, sweetie,” you shushed, “it's gonna be okay. You just have to hold on a little longer for me, ”
“I can't, ” he sobbed, “I can’t, ”
“Just one more minute Tomu. It’s gonna feel so good, ” you promised.
Shigaraki couldn't stop crying. He felt so full. Too full. You took his cock between two fingers and “stroked” it gently. He gasped and moaned so loud it reverberated throughout the room. You finally slid the strap onto your hips. You held it in your hands for most of the time, having much more control of your hands compared to your hips.
You rocked your hips gently. Slowly, not pulling out in the least. Tomura was clenching to the point of holding you like a vice. You moaned at the reaction. Even though you weren't being touched, watching your beautiful boyfriend come undone was enough for you. You let go of his cock, watching him squirm again.
“No, ” he moaned, “please don’t stop, ”
“I don't want you to cum too quickly, sweetie. This is your first time, after all, ” you teased.
He whined, “can you at least go faster y/n? Please?”
You picked up the pace without a word. Shigaraki wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you down, so your chest was rubbing against his. Every time your shirt rubbed against his nipples, he let out a high-pitched moan. Your new angle hit his prostate head-on. His hands dug into your shoulders. If you weren't immune to his quirk, you'd be screwed.
“Y/n, ” he drooled, “fucking kiss me, ”
You were on him immediately, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth. He pulled at you hair.
“Y/n, ” he moaned into your mouth, “so good, ”
You sped up, and he yelped into your mouth. He was gasping for air even when you pulled away. You felt every part of him tense before his small cock shot out a surprisingly large amount of cum. Shigaraki was blissed out. Every part of him screamed to sleep, but he pulled you over him and yanked your hips down onto his face.
He licked and sucked, slobbering all over your pussy.
“Such a messy cunt, ” he groaned, diving back in, “all for me, ”
You collapsed onto his face, nearly suffocating his with your thighs (don't worry, he loved every second of it) before rocking back and forth on his face.
“Yes, ” you moaned, “god yes, Tomura, you're so good. I love it. I fucking love it. You're such a good boy. My good boy, ”
Shigaraki moaned into you at the praise, licking and sucking until you gushed into his mouth and all over his face. You collapsed next to him.
“Fuck, ” you gasped, “that was amazing, Shig, ”
You giggled and pulled him into your chest.
“That was so amazing, ” you praised again.
He wrapped his arms around you and muttered something incoherent before passing out immediately.
#tomura fluff#tomura smut#tenko smut#tomura x reader#mha tomura#tomura imagine#shigaraki tenko#tomura shiragaki#tomurashigaraki#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki fluff#shigaraki smut#mha shigaraki#shigaraki x reader
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if youre still thinking angst for jock jk: much like real life jungkook, jock jk i feel like wants to be good — at everything. and he really is great at everything! so when he isnt great, he takes it very personally and i wouldnt be surprised if this spills into his relationship. wanting to do things “perfectly” in their relationship but forgetting that jock jk! oc should be involved in the decision making of what is “perfect”
alternatively: olivia rodrigo deja vu but jungkook is olivia thinking about oc and namjoon
this is very much a valid angst prompt ur brain is amazing anon im giving u a kiss rn......... ummm lemme write sumn small for dis :3
featuring: oc being oblivious, jeongguk just wanting to be the best boypwen, namjoon being observant and unspoken insecurities
Jeongguk doesn't usually shrink into himself like this. He abhors it, knows it's not him at all. And yet, he can't help his behaviour, knee bouncing harshly against the bricked pavements as he waits for you to leave your chemistry lab. There's a dainty silver bracelet sitting in his pocket, his head resting in hands as the autumn sun beats down on his back. You don't know it yet but he's got a pretty date planned: a late lunch at your favourite restaurant, an evening walk in the park at the centre of town, maybe some arcade games or a movie if you feel like it, and then a drive down to the hillside where you can watch the sun slip beyond the horizon and Jeongguk can gift you the bracelet and the cute bunny teddy he picked out last night.
It's not for any reason in particular, Jeongguk just wants you to know how much he cares (loves) you. Adoration is what drives his actions, his head springing up when the doors finally swing open and your fellow students spill forth into the afternoon breeze.
You're always one of the last people to leave because you liked buttering up your professors with casual conversations and sweet compliments, so Jeongguk isn't too bothered when everyone disperses and you're still not visible. It's not like you knew he was here away – he did tell you he was stuck in practise all afternoon.
When you do appear, the tiny welcoming smile that was sitting on his lips plummets to the floor.
You're gazing up at a familiar face, eyes sparkling as the sun hits them, your features bright and eager. His eyes eventually shift to the person ambling beside you, taking his towering stature and confident stride, a sickening feeling spreading through his system when he recognises who it is.
Kim Namjoon.
Of all sights to see, Jeongguk would rather have his eyes plucked out by birds that see you around Namjoon again. Especially after what he said to him.
You're giggling, completely unaware of the violent twisting of Jeongguk's heart in his ribs and the words he'd planned to say dissolving on his tongue. You don't even notice him at first, Namjoon's eyes are the ones that stray away, idling over the campus scenery until the settle on Jeongguk.
He wants to smash something, fingernails digging into his palm as his fist curls. Namjoon just grins, waving him down like they're old friends. "Jeongguk!"
You follow then, surprise bleeding over your pretty face. Jeongguk doesn't know why it hurts.
"Gukkie?" A question. He notes how you lean into Namjoon as you draw close, like he's your boyfriend.
"Hey." It's said so quietly that Jeongguk considers smacking himself in the face. A tight cough follows the meek word, clearing his throat from the heaviness that plagues it. "How was class?"
"Good," you return, still confused. "I thought you had practise?"
"Coach let us out early," he lies, smiling hard so you don't see through it.You make a non-committal noise, vaguely appeasing the turmoil in his head. "Namjoon," he adds, finally acknowledging the asshole. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Ah," he sighs, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I got an internship here; Professor Song was kind enough to give me an assistant position. I'm considering applying for master's here too."
"Oh," he doesn't even try to mask his irritation. "That's nice."
But you don't hear it, nodding like an enamoured puppy. "Right? It'll be nice having you around again!"
"It feels good to be here," Namjoon returns. "Don't know why I didn’t apply to this university, to be honest."
Jeongguk knows. It was because this was your dream university and Namjoon didn't want to do his undergraduate with you trailing around like a lingering stench, especially right after your break-up. But now, apparently, he's totally fine with it.
"Hmm, yeah. It's a great university," Jeongguk states, disinterested. He turns to you with a tired smile. "I actually came to pick you up for lunch, you haven't eaten yet have you?"
"I actually did before class," you say, lips forming an apologetic pout. "Can we reschedule for dinner? I wanna show Namjoon around first."
Oh. The weight of his heart sinks him into the ground, earth eagerly swallowing him up as his head splits. So Namjoon gets first priority. Kim Namjoon, over him. Over your boyfriend.
"Yeah, yeah," Jeongguk shrugs. "That's fine. We can reschedule. Text me when you're done, okay?"
He doesn't miss the way Namjoon's gaze lingers on him as he turns away, waving you a quick goodbye. You didn't even give him a hug, stationed beside Namjoon like you watched to attach his limbs to yours. It's unsettling, how swift you loyalty glides away from Jeongguk. He hates how annoyed it makes him because he knows you don't do it purposely. But still, shouldn't he come first?
It's that thought that sends him spiralling, sitting alone in the heat of his car as the bracelet in his pocket grows heavy. Where you like this with Namjoon? Did you put him first? He thinks you did – you cancelled on him so many times in the course of that relationship. Did Namjoon take you to similar places? Did the two of you have moments you never shared with him? That one hurts the most, because even to this day Jeongguk has never shared the titbit of information Namjoon granted him. What did Namjoon give you that you never see in Jeongguk? Even with the title of 'together' hanging over your heads he doesn't feel secure enough – good enough for you. It's what leaves him on edge, overthinking each moment and word and touch shared between the two of you. Because it took you both so long to get here, what did you see in those other guys that you never saw in Jeongguk at first? He longs to be only one you remember, wipe away any lasting memory of any of the others, until it was only him.
But that feels impossible, further sparked in moments like this when you pick them over him. He'll always be the second option, the sideline safety. But never the first choice.
#ask#anon#listened to deja vu while writing dis#nawt edited#jungkok angst#jungkook x reader#au: jock!jaykay
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