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#I’m so sorry for avoiding actually answering but pls know that I still see every nice thing you all leave for me
lyvhie · 8 days
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day off | ldh
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boyfriend!haechan × fem!reader (18+ mdni)
summary: a cozy day relaxing by the fireplace with your lover is the perfect way to spend a cold day. the warm glow of the fire and the soft, inviting atmosphere of the room make it the perfect place to unwind and spend time together.
a/n: y'all, some of my asks just disappeared 😭😭 but i could remember a few! pls, send me again if you asked me anything! anon, i'm sorry for not answer you directly, i hope you see this 😔💔
cw: fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, love/sweetie/babe as petnames.
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you and hyuck sat curled against each other in the deep, leather couch near the roaring fireplace. he had his arm around your shoulders as you leaned your head into his embrace, while also craddling a goblet of warm tint wine between both of you. the heat of the flames warmed you both, and the cozy atmosphere of the room made it feel as if you were the only two people in the world.
“so, you are telling me that you actually liked me back then?” he raised his eyebrows, looking down at you with surprised eyes.
“of course!” you said laughing at his reaction. “is this really so surprising?”
recently, those moments together were rare indeed. hyuck’s busy schedule and your late work shifts always made it difficult to find time together. but, somehow, this day was different—your day off coincided with his, and you found yourselves at home at the same time.
this was your chance to spend some quality time together, and you knew that today was an opportunity you shouldn’t take for granted.
“seriously?” he asked incredulously, placing the glass on the coffee table nearby. “so, all those times i tried to make you fall for me, and you were already head over heels for me?” the corner of his lips turned up in a teasing smile, and he lightly tugged at the strands of hair framing your face. “and you never told me?” he pouted.
“that’s why i never told you, just look at this cocky words,” you said playfully, chuckling and shaking your head slightly. “but well, you were taking things too fast for me, you know i was a ball of shyness that time,” you explained briefly, shrugging.
looking back on it all, you've come so far from your timid origin. back then, you did everything you could to avoid him, but he always seemed to find his way to you somehow. despite your attempts to keep him at arm's length, he somehow managed to get under your skin, and you quickly found yourself enjoying his annoying company and looking forward to seeing him again.
"i did, and you were completely adorable, you know?" he leaned in closer, his face mere inches away, as his hands gently traced the nape of your neck. "i absolutely loved it when you got flustered and all fussed up," he said with a smirk, "you always managed to make my day with your reactions to my flirting."
“yeah, you were a real tease,” you boped his nose playfully, he chuckled quietly as your gently caresses. “though, i’m glad you never gave up on me, babe,” you peck him on the lips. “i wasn’t exactly the easiest person to deal with,” you said with a soft smile.
“you still aren’t that easy person to deal with,” he replied affeccionately, “you are still a little ball of stress and worry, but i can handle that. you are so worth the fight. i love every inch of you,” his fingers danced along the back of your neck, before wrapping their way into your hair. “i’m so lucky to call you mine.”
his loving gaze is filled with a softness and tenderness that reveals how deep his feelings for you run. it’s like he sees you as more than just a person, you are the heartbeat of his world, the light that fills his life with joy. when he looks at you, it’s as if the word just melts away and all that matters is you, you are all he wants and needs, and his love for you feels like is physically hurts.
when he look at you like that, your heart begins to race. you can feel your pulse quickening and your breathing becoming shallow in response to the intensity of his attention. you would never get used to this feeling, no matter how much time passes, he always makes you feel like the first time.
“i really love you, hyuck,” you finally says after a few seconds in silence. “like, a lot. i love you,” haechan smiled as he saw your expression, his face grew soft as you looked up at him, your eyes glistening with honesty, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of feelings wash over him. “i really love you too,” he replied, “more than you could ever imagine. you have no idea how much you mean to me, love.”
he leaned in to kiss you softly. it was a gentle and tender kiss, filled with care and affection. he brought you close, wrapping his arms around you, and pressed his lips softening as your bodies embraced. you wrapped your arms around neck as he gently pushes you down against the couch, making you lay on your back. he break the kiss to move his lips eagerly along your neck and collar bone as he felt you shiver with pleasure, your breathing become heavy at each second.
his kisses become more enthusiastic and needy, nibbling and nuzzling at your skin, while his hands slowly, methodically start to roam over your body. he begins by tracing gentle circles on your stomach, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your entire being. as he continues, his fingers make their way up to your breasts, cupping them gently before giving them a light squeeze, making you whimper softly. he uses the other to slide down your pants. “oh, is my girl this needy already?” he asks softly, his fingers tracing small circles over the facbric covering your sensitive area, feeling how wet you were.
"w-what can i say?” you respond biting your bottom lip to keep sounds from coming out of your mouth “i-i’ve been missing you for a while now,” he move his head a little to the side to look at you, the corner of his lips twitching into a teasing smile. “i’m sure you did, love” he dips his fingers underthe lace of your underwear, teasing your wet entrance, your legs involuntarily parting further to give him better access. the sensation of his fingers playing with your entrance make you squirm against him. “hyuck, please,” you pleaded, moving your hips a little, eager to have him inside you.
with a wicked grin, he obliges, sliding two fingers inside you slowly. he watches your face intently, gauging your reaction as he begins to thrust gently, curving his fingers just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars. “that’s it, love, just let go,” he murmurs encouragingly. he leans in to kiss you again. devouring your moans as his fingers work their magic.
as he continues to pleasure you, his free hand moves to undo your bra, finally freeing your breasts. he takes one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently while kneading the other with his fingers. your head falls back, and you arch your back, lost in the symphony of sensations. hyuck knows exatcly how to play your body like an instrument, it was all about making you feel good.
“i know you’re close, sweetie,” he nuzzles against your neck, his hot breath against your skin as he quickens the pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in small circles. “c’mon, love, cum for me,” he didn’t have to say twice, you were already spilling your release on his fingers, moaning loudly, feeling your legs shaking a little as you breath quickly. hyuck observed how your eyebrows knit together and your mouth opened in pure bliss, he had to fight the urge to cum right on his pants.
he pull his soaked fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking on it while keeping eye contact with you. “don’t relax just yet, love,” with a smirk, he captures your lips in a searing kiss, you could still taste yourself on his tongue. without breaking the kiss, he unbuttoned his jeans, pulling it down along his boxers, his cock rock hard, throbbing with an intensity that threatens to consume him. he was actually controlling himself to prioritize you, but now he even thought he might die if he didn't fuck you soon.
he pulls off your underwear completely, tossing it aside before pushing himself inside you. you feel every inch of him, hard and insistent, filling you up completely. he bury his face on the crook of your neck as groans, feeling you tighten around him, driving him deeper. “f-fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “feels s-so good, babe,” he kiss your neck.
he starts moving then, slow and steady, his hand reaching around to massage your clit while he's buried inside you, soon quickening his pace. his cock is like steel, throbbing with need and desire for you, stretching you in all the good ways. he lifts one of your legs up, hooking it over his shoulder to change the angle, hitting a different spot that makes you gasp, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. he can feel every vein pulsing with desire as he slides in and out of you, your warmth and wetness enveloping him in a way that makes him feel like he's home. he's never wanted anyone as much as he wants you in this moment, and it shows in the way he moves - with a primal urgency that's both thrilling and terrifying. he's lost in the sensation of being inside you, his mind a haze of lust and love, your loud moans like a sweet song to his ears.
he lower your leg to lean foward and kiss you one more time, his hips slamming against your cervix. “you are m-mine,” he said against your lips. “s-say it,” he bury his face on your neck again, biting the area with some force to leave a mark, but not enough to hurt you.
you weren’t sure if you would be able to say any kind of words at this moment, but you tried anyways. “i-i’m—ah, i’m yours, h-hyuck, all y-yours,” your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his hips, wanting to keep him moving as if he was even thinking about stop. “l-lov… i love you, h-hyuck,” you manage to say between your moans.
he loves hearing you say it, loves the way it feels to be wanted by you. As he thrusts deeper, harder, he mutters, "i love you too, babe,” he feels your muscles tighten around him, and he knows you're close again. he pulls back to look at you, watching the pleasure contort your face. it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen. he grins, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. "come for me again,” he coos. “let me see you fall apart.”
you body tenses around him as you reache your climax, your muscles clenching and releasing in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through his entire being. he can feel your heart racing against his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you ride out the intense wave of ecstasy. your nails dig into his skin, leaving little half-moons on his shoulders, but he doesn't care—the pain only heightens his own pleasure. he groans into your mouth, his hips moving faster and harder as he chases his own release. the sight of you, lost in the throes of passion, is almost too much to handle.
as hyuck reaches his peak, he can't hold back anymore and releases himself inside you with a deep, guttural moan, filling you up. it's like a dam breaking, the release so powerful that he sees stars behind his closed lids. the feeling is indescribable, a rush of pleasure so intense it's almost painful. he can feel you trembling beneath him, your body still convulsing with aftershocks of your own orgasm. you both lay there for a moment, panting and sweaty, bodies entwined as you come down from the high. he pulls out slowly, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he looks down at you.
you were both panting, just staring at each other with a wide smile. you kept in silence, hyuck slowly wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you snuggle into him, your head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of your head before ask, “how about we take another day off tomorrow?”
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deepseawave · 3 years
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Send this to 12 people you think or seem to have a good heart ❤️(Happy Weekend!!! :3)
Awww, thank you so much!! <3333
Also right back at you, you’re such a genuinely nice person, I’m super glad I got to know you!! ❤️❤️❤️
Imma change the rules real quick and tag some people who’s presence on my dash just makes me smile, cause they’re amazing human beings :3
@albino-pony @kozidraws @calamarikaminari @kladraws @kiribak-uwu
Also hey! Chicken anon! If you’re out there seeing this, bless you, you’ve got a good heart for sure! 🐓❤️
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noctumbra · 3 years
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𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥
summary ─ you took a deep breath and opened your mouth to answer him when the idea struck you. his offer.
pairing ─ bestfriend!bucky barnes x reader
warnings ─ smut, +18, bucky is also the reader’s roommate, kissing, oral sex, making out, beard burn, dirty talk, sexy pictures, lingerie shopping with bucky, cam sex, OF accounts lol, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, i don’t know shit about creating sexy content jsyk lmao, very light choking
a/n ─ inspired by this ask! spider nonnie had blessed us with this great idea. edits and yellings happened and here i am lmao thank you @nix-akimbo​ for the edits, i drooled and screamed and had to change my panties:) hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youu!! (pictures i used for bucky are edits from, again, @nix-akimbo​ <3 
p.s.: so sorry for the delay! enjoy 5.2k words of filth! pls let me know what you think
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It was sort of an off day for both you and Bucky. After having to deal with all the exams and applying to colleges, today was a calm and relaxing day for you. Bucky offered to go somewhere where you could both just be outside and have a change of scenery after holing up in your rooms or dragging yourselves from one class to another. You agreed easily.
His choice was Central Park; he was claiming that some green and soil under your palms might do you good, and you couldn’t see why not. With a small picnic bag kind of thing, you went to Central Park and sat down on the thing sheet you brought from home. It was very nice out; the sun was smiling down at you people and there was a soft breeze. You could hear birds chirping, kids playing and dogs barking. It was peaceful.
“God,” you heard Bucky groan. “I could say ‘fuck it’ to going to college thing and live out here forever.” You chuckled.
“I don’t think you’d like out here very much in winter,” you said as you grabbed a strawberry and handed it to him. With a soft hum, Bucky took it. “Though I wouldn’t say no to the ‘fuck it’ part.”
Bucky frowned. “What? Why?” You sighed. It had been troubling you for some time now, and even though your parents said that they would be supporting you, you still didn’t like the idea of making them pay for your schooling.
“College is expensive as fuck, James,” you grunted quietly. “It’s expensive which means that I have to get a loan, and it’s gonna be a huge problem when I graduate.” Sighing again, you bit into the strawberry in your hand aggressively. Bucky didn’t say anything, opting to stay silent, you continued after swallowing the juicy fruit you just bit.
“I mean,” you started. “I’ll probably apply to some of the scholarships, but I doubt that I’ll get one. M’parents said they’ll help me, but I don’t wanna be a burden.” You watched Bucky changing his position. Your mind was racing to find some brilliant idea that was going to help you get through this money issue. Scholarships were very hard to get, you could work ─ it was more likely to be happen anyway ─ or you could just let your parents crush under your college bill. You snorted when a thought struck you, causing Bucky to give you a confused look. “I might start an OnlyFans account. Seems like it’s the only way to earn some real money to get through college properly.” Bucky grimaced for a second, and then his face got thoughtful. When he looked back at you, he started snickering.
“Okay,” he agreed, grinning. “But promise me that if you ever want to create content with someone, it’s gonna be me, alright?” You chuckled. You knew that Bucky had a crush on you during your first year in high school, but he was over it now was what he said a year ago.
“You just want to have an excuse to kiss and feel me up, Barnes,” you said playfully. Bucky shot you a cocky smirk, causing you to laugh.
“Joke aside, I mean it,” he said after your laughter died down. “Those kinds of things are dangerous if you don’t know your partner. So, I’m offering myself. You know me.” You nodded slowly. Deep down, you knew he was right.
“Yeah, well,” you murmured. “I’ll let you know if I ever decide to do such thing.” Bucky shrugged.
“You have my number, honey,” he said, giving you a soft smile. He had a dreamy expression on his face.  You ignored the butterflies in your stomach that the pet name provided and pushed him back from his shoulder. He went down with a yelp.
“Stop thinking about me naked,” you grumbled. Bucky laughed.
It was a nice day.
Looking back, you probably should have taken him up on his offer. This year was your last in college, graduation was crawling close with every breath you took, and the closer you get to your graduation day, the more stressful your days were becoming. You were drowning in your loans, your rent and your share of bills were waiting for you to pay, your job at the library was on a shaky boat…
It was totally pure luck that you and Bucky were in the same college and decided to be roommates because dorms were too crowded and loud. He was understandable about your money issues, he didn’t have any problems with it since his family was actually rich. It was very nice of him not to force you to pay your part although it didn’t stop you feeling guilty about it.
“Earth to Y/N,” you heard a deep voice and jumped on your seat. Bucky was looking at you with a small smile, worry was waiting to take over his face around the edges. “You alright, honey?” You hummed approvingly, nodding at the same time.
“Just thinking,” you said, closing the book you’ve been trying to read for an hour now. “Got lost in my head.” Bucky didn’t say anything but continued to watch you. The worry was slowly taking over his face. “I’m fine, Bucky, really.”
“Look,” he started, “I’ve known you nearly for nine years now, so I know when something isn’t alright. What is it?” You sighed. You hated bothering him with your money issues because you knew that he was just going to offer to pay everything himself, and just let you be his roommate without having to pay anything ever again. You couldn’t have that. You also knew that he wasn’t going to let you go if you didn’t tell him what had been going around in your head.
You took a deep breath and opened your mouth to answer him when the idea struck you.
His offer.
You looked at him. The corners of your lips were curling upwards slowly as the expression on his face got more confused and worried.
“Why are you looking at me like you are about to kill me?” He asked, tentatively taking a few steps back. You grinned. You probably looked like a psychopath right now, but if he was still up to it, this thing was going to help you a lot.
“Do you remember the conversation we had in Central Park while we were still in high school? It was a week after the applications,” you explained. He frowned for a second.
“We had a lot of conversations that day, honey, be more specific,” he said, and you nodded. He was right. You’ve stayed there for hours and talked about thousands of things.
“We were talking about how expensive the college is and I said I might start an OnlyFans account? You made me promise that I’ll come to you if I ever wanted to create content with someone. Remember now?” You watched his eyes grow wide with a smirk.
“Um,” he stammered. “Look, I’m definitely on board with that, but I want you to know that I can cover you if you want, alright? Like, y-you don’t have to post pictures or videos of your body just to pay rent, I can handle it, okay?” Your smirk turned into a soft, fond smile.
“I know, James,” you murmured softly, “Thank you.” Then, you stood up from your seat and walked up to him. Your fingers trailed over the sharp cut of his jawline, nails scratching his scruff. “Even though the main reason of why I wanna do this is paying my share of rent and bills, but I won’t say no to get laid. God knows I need it,” you scoffed at yourself. “So, are you going to help me, James?” You looked at him through your lashes. You could see that his eyes darkening and feel his jaw twitching.
“You really want it to be me?” He asked. You nodded. Other than casual hook-ups, both of you were single, and you lived in the same apartment so, it was supposed to work perfectly. Bucky’s eyes darkened more like it was possible and stepped forward to press his body against yours. “We gotta set some rules,” he said as he brushed your hair back gently. You shivered. You’ve been this close before, he shouldn’t have been affecting you this much, but fuck him, he was.
“Okay,” you whispered. He smiled and leaned in just a little bit so that your lips would brush against each other. You gasped softly.
“Yeah, I know what you need, honey,” he whispered, and then smiled. Pulling back, he gave you a smirk. “Gotta go, but we’ll talk about the rules tonight,” he said and in ten seconds, he was out.
“Fuck,” you whispered as you let your body fall back onto the plush couch. Suddenly, you weren’t so sure about the whole thing because you knew he was going to ruin you for all the other men. “I’m fucked,” you whined.
Royally, you added in your mind and whined a bit more.
──
It was a week later when you decided to start.
Like he said, you talked about all the rules and things about what to do and avoid, and then you set up an account. Bucky went and bought a camera just for this purpose, and when you complained about it, he promised to use it for other purposes, too. After everything was ready, he took you out for a lingerie shopping.
“You’re already sexy as hell, honey,” he had said, “but we gotta make you look even sexier. I have an eye, y’know it, so I’m gonna help.”
Now, you were in a red colored lacy number with garter belt and fishnet stockings adorning your legs. You had shiny leather gloves that went up to your mid-upper arms. You decided to forego the shoes, and Bucky agreed. When you were done with putting on everything Bucky bought for you, you looked at yourself in the mirror.
You looked fucking sexy.
“You ready?” You heard Bucky ask and took a deep breath. You couldn’t help but feel nervous because Bucky was about to see you in a fucking sexy lingerie. He was about to your ass in its all glory since you were wearing a thong. “Y/N?”
You got out of the bathroom before you could convince yourself to give up the whole OnlyFans idea, and honestly? The look on Bucky’s face made it damn worth it that you didn’t back out.
He straightened up from where he was sitting on the edge of your bed. His eyes went dark quickly. His face darkened, and you saw his lips parting before his tongue peeked out to lick his lips very invitingly. His now-almost-black eyes moved down and up and down again on your body, and he took a deep breath.
“Motherfuck, Y/N, you look so fucking sexy,” he grunted, it was actually very close to a groan, your brain noted. Bucky took another deep breath and held his hand out to you. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered. Shivering lightly, you walked up to him, taking his hand. His fingers wound into yours immediately, squeezing just a little, and he pulled you forward.
With a gasp, you fell onto his lap, arms wound up around his neck and his arms around your waist. His body was so warm, so solid and big under you, you felt like you were very close to fainting.
“Damn,” he whispered, “You were already beautiful, and now in this thing? Fuck me, you have no idea how gorgeous you look, love.” You whimpered just a little, scooting a bit forward on his lap, plastering your own chest to his. His white, wifebeater was only providing you a nice view of his bulging biceps and giving you a little peek of his pecs. His sweatpants, however, they were doing very little to hide… things.
“James…” You breathed. Bucky cursed under his breath and pulled back just for a second to reach behind you. You knew he started the recording, you knew that there would be a little red light blinking at you; you shivered. This was so unlike you, but you wanted to it. Wanted to do it with Bucky.
“Ready, love?” He whispered, and you nodded. “You know what to do if you wanna stop or take a breather, right?” You nodded again. “Tell me your safeword, sweetheart.”
God, you thought, he’s laying it thick on pet names. “Winter,” you whispered. He placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, making you chuckle lightly.
“Good girl, honey,” he whispered and it was fucking on.
He leaped forward to catch your lips with his, moaning loudly in relief when the soft skin of his lips touched yours, you arched into it. His hands were roaming all over your body, nails dragging lines and making you shiver, while his hands were occasionally grabbing your ass and slapping it lightly. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his tongue licking on your bottom lip, and you felt it slip inside when you gasped.
Bucky already had you putty in his hands, you realized, and you wondered what you were going to be in when he was done with you.
“Alright,” he said with a low voice. He gathered you up in his arms and stood, turning around, he placed you in the middle of your bed. “I’m gonna take some pictures, that okay baby?” You nodded, teeth already digging into your bottom lip. Bucky watched your face a couple seconds; his thumb saving your bottom lip from the abuse of your teeth and he stroked it slowly. You poked your tongue out to lick his thumb, and then closed your lips around the digit. “Shit,” he cursed. “Pictures,” he grunted as he pulled his finger out of your mouth. You giggled.
He grabbed his phone that was sitting on your bedside drawer. He did a quick work on opening his camera app and looked at you. “Turn around. Lemme see that peach, hm?” You felt heat licking all over your body as you gasped. Slowly turning around, you pulled your knees under you as you stretched your arms forward to grab the headboard. This position gave your back a beautiful arch, you knew it.
“Goddamn,” he whispered as he moved himself around to get a good light for the picture, and you heard the soft ‘click’ sound a few seconds later. You looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your head just a little. You heard another ‘click’. Smirking, also feeling that you were gaining some sort of self-confidence, you placed your knees apart from each other on the bed, spreading them widely.
“God-fucking-damn, sweetheart,” Bucky groaned. He shuffled and pressed ‘click’ a couple times. You buried your head in the bed and deepened arch of your back, wiggling your ass playfully. Bucky hummed. He reached out to grab one of your cheeks, to dig his fingers into the soft flesh, and you gasped with the sudden touch. Click. Bucky hummed again and slapped your ass lightly. You moaned, pressing against the touch of his large and warm hand, you lay down on your chest.
Bucky trailed one finger down from your crack to your pussy. “Soaking it already?” He asked, voice low and hoarse. Lust, your brain realized, making you moan. Bucky rubbed you there with his thumb, over the soft fabric, and his other fingers dug themselves into the meat of your ass. “On your front,” he said, slapping your ass again. Swallowing a whimper, you did as he said.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. You hummed and arched your back again, giving him a nice view of your chest. Click, click, click. Smiling, you lifted yourself up on your elbows. You could see that your effects for the pictures did not go waste: Bucky was hard and tenting his sweatpants. You lifted one of your legs in the air and pressed the sole of your feet to his stomach, right over his abs. You saw his cock twitching under the fabric, and your smile turned into a smirk.
“Drop the phone,” you whispered as you maneuvered yourself onto your knees, still facing him but also facing to the bulge in his sweatpants. Bucky did as you said and put the phone on the ground. “Lemme see you?” You asked next while pulling your gloves off. Bucky nodded and pulled his wifebeater off in a second.
He was a fucking god.
His beautifully tanned and smooth skin and taut muscles were blinking at you cheekily. You could see a faint happy trail leading to his cock. His arms were a bulging muscles and veins mess, and you wanted to trace those veins with your tongue.
Instead, you leaned forward and nosed his happy trail. His low groan and cursing were deaf to your ears because all you were focused on was the bulge that was touching your chin. You shuffled a bit forward and pulled his sweatpants down to his mid-thighs, making his cock slap against his stomach.
Thank fuck for Bucky Barnes and his love for going commando.
You’ve watched his dick swinging so many times when both of you were home. You’ve seen his dick both erect and flaccid through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Finally, you were seeing it naked and all in display for you to play.
“Love,” Bucky whispered as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He sounded turned on. Good, you thought and grabbed his cock. Nosing right under his cock head, you inhaled the natural musk smell coming off of him. You were so goddamn wet just by smelling him, you knew deep into your fucking bones that you were ruined for all the other men already.
Tongue poking out, you licked him clean with slow, kitten licks. Bucky cursed. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you; he watched you as you wrapped your beautiful lips around his cock, watched your tongue licking him from root to top.
Bucky was going fucking crazy.
“Y/N, holy shit,” he moaned when you took him in your mouth. His eyes closed briefly as he tossed his head back with the pleasure. You hummed and bobbed your head up and down. He felt so nice, so thick and full in your mouth; you never wanted to let him go. Bucky grunted when you swallowed around him. He was already so damn close, it was embarrassing.
“Baby,” he said. “I’ll come if you continue to do that again.” You made a soft sound. You wanted him to come in your mouth, but there was this whole video thing to go through, so you pulled off. Bucky, always good at reading you, stroked your cheek. “Some other time I’ll let you have it in your mouth, alright?” You nodded. He smiled. “Move up,” he commanded, inclining his head towards the bed. You scrambled to follow his order. You spread your legs as soon as you were in a comfy position.
“I could eat you up…” He whispered. He crawled towards you on his knees, sweatpants ditched already and he was naked. He looked up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours intimately. Bucky nosed your clothed core. “Maybe I should…”
Whimpering, you wiggled slightly. He chuckled. It was a dark sound that sent chills down your spine. He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder. Laying down on his stomach, he licked a fat line over the fabric.
“James!” You cried out. He rubbed his scruff covered jaw all over your inner thighs. His fingers grabbed the hem of your panties and he pulled them down, ripping them under the fishnet stockings and he threw them somewhere in the room. You gasped at the strength show. You could feel yourself getting even wetter. “Fuck,” you whispered. Bucky smirked. His tongue poked out to lick you clean.
It took you a second to realize that he was mimicking your ministrations on you. You let out a laugh which turned into a moan as the tip of his tongue nudged your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed his long hair. You knew he was good with his mouth; no mouth like his could be bad, anyhow.
“God, James,” you whispered harshly. He licked, licked, sucked and licked again, and you were going crazy. His beard was rubbing all over the slick and soft flesh, irritating the skin there. You were loving the fact that you were going to have some nice beard burn tomorrow.
Bucky slurped, licked you clean and flicked his tongue against your clit one last time before he pulled back. As much as he wanted you to come on his face, he wanted your first orgasm to happen on his dick.
You whined as he pulled back but purred in satisfaction when he laid on you, caging you under his big and muscle-y body. He was making you feel small and precious and honestly, you loved that feeling. It felt even better when it was Bucky.
“Lemme see them, yeah?” He whispered as he slowly peeled your bra off. Throwing it somewhere when it came off, Bucky didn’t waste any time to latch on to one of your nipples.
“Fuck!” You yelped at the sudden warmth around the delicate flesh, back bowing and chest pushing against his face even more with the new position. He flicked his tongue around, sucked and you felt his teeth nipping the flesh lightly. One of his hands was grabbing your other breast, fingers rolling the nipple. “Jaaames!” You whined, your fingers were still wound up tight in his hair. He hummed and pulled back with a pop.
“Fine,” he grumbled, turning your world upside down in a blink.
With a gasp, you were flipped around and were put on your stomach with your hips tilted up. Bucky’s knees were right outside of your thighs while your legs were as spread wide as they could. You could feel his hard cock right against your wet pussy, and you couldn’t help but moan and wiggle your ass a bit. Bucky groaned. His hips moved against yours, cock dragging up and down on your pussy as he reached for a condom. Both of you were clean and you were on pill, but he still wanted to make sure that you were not to get pregnant.
Bucky placed his hands on your waist and slowly moved them up and wound on of them in your hair. He made a fist, pulling them tightly to the side to expose your neck. You gasped and whimpered.
“Ready, baby?” He asked. You nodded. “You sure? Y’alright?”
“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, ‘m fine, please.” Wiggling your ass against his cock, you moaned lightly. Bucky cooed at you softly, his free hand roaming all over your back in a soothing move. His fingers dipped into the holes of the stockings, ripping them just a little to make some room, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. You cried out. Immediately clenching around the long and thick digits, you moaned.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Bucky cursed. “Tight as a fucking virgin, shit.” You hummed and canted your hips against him, practically riding his fingers. He made a sound of approval, removed his fingers and lined his cock up.
“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes, gimme!”
“Alright, love, don’t worry. I’mma give you what you need.” Swearing once again, Bucky slid inside of you with one slow thrust.
You screamed. Your back arched, hips tilted even higher and you clenched around his hard cock. Bucky cursed. His fingers were grabbing your hair tighter, almost making your scalp hurt, but you were loving the sting. You moaned and hummed as he started to thrust in and out. His pace was careful and slow, and remained like that until he deemed that you adjusted his length and width.
“God, shit, James,” you moaned. “You feel so good in me, so big…” Eyes closed, you threw your head back. Bucky responded your moan with his own. Just like you said, you felt so damn good around him. It felt like his cock was being wrapped tightly with hot silk. “Faster?” You asked, looking at him over your shoulder with wide eyes.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he let go of your hair and placed both hands on your hips for support. His hips fastened their pace. His balls, full to the brim, were swinging back and forth, occasionally slapping against your slicked covered skin. You were so wet that every movement of Bucky’s cock in you was making an obscene squelching sound. You could feel your thighs getting wetter with Bucky’s each thrust.
“James,” you whispered. “Fuck, James, ‘m close.” Your harsh whisper reached to his ear between the loud thrusts of his hips, and he grabbed you by the waist and throat to pull you up. You made a sobbing sound as the changed position made his cock drove in you even deeper. You loved the feeling of having him deep.  
Bucky hugged you close to his chest; one of his arms was around your waist while the other was winding under your right arm, his right hand was loosely wrapped around your throat. You found the loose hand on your throat surprisingly grounding, and you sighed. Your hips flushed against his, you looked like you were sitting on his thighs in this position.
“Come whenever you wanna, love,” he whispered in your ear and placed a kiss on your cheek. The arm around your waist shifted on your hip, and he resumed his thrusts.
Having him way deeper was going to push you off the edge quicker than before, you could feel it. The tension in your belly was coiling with every single thrusts of his, your clit throbbing and your walls clenching around him; you were right there.
You sobbed. Your hands scrambled to grab any part of him; one of them wound up in his hair while the other grabbed the back of his thigh. “Yes,” you whimpered. “There!” You moaned when a little shift in his thrust lightened something up in you. “Fuck, ‘m─” Gasping, you swallowed the sob down. Your legs were trembling, pussy and stomach visibly clenching, you felt your nipples tighten up almost painfully.
“Oh fuck,” Bucky moaned loudly. His long hair was obscuring his face just a little bit, the ends of it tickling your shoulders. His scruff was rubbing against your neck, you could feel his happy trail against your ass, and with all these heightened senses you couldn’t hold onto your orgasm any longer.
You came on Bucky’s cock with a scream got trapped in your throat suddenly. Mouth wide open with a silent scream, your body convulsed and trembled against Bucky’s. If it weren’t his arms holding you upright against his chest, you would have collapsed face-first down on the bed, you knew it.
The spectacular fog of orgasm had covered your mind, making you vaguely aware of Bucky’s jack-rabbit thrusts. He was panting in your ear, hands tightened on your flesh and throat, you could feel his cock twitching in you. You turned your head to him lazily, still drowsy from your orgasm. Your hand on his thigh moved to his cheek to turn his face to yours.
“Come for me,” you whined lightly against his lips. You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and whispered again. “C’mon, James, come for me.” Kissing him again, this time you bit down on his bottom lip and clenched your pussy around him tighter.
He gasped, his thrusts going mad as he moved his hips one, two, three more times before he stilled. Cock twitching, balls tightening up, he came inside the condom as his body crumpled forward. As he went down on the bed, he took you with him. Never letting you go, he cuddled you against his chest.
Five minutes later, breathing turned back normal, Bucky chuckled. “Goddamn,” he said and you grunted in approval. “You alright? Was I too rough?” You shook your head as you gave him thumbs up. He chuckled again. He rubbed your hips gently as he pulled out of you slowly. You grimaced as he did and watched him disposing the condom. He got off the bed, stopping the recording. “I don’t think this video will ever need an editing, but we’ll see I guess,” he murmured. He walked into the bathroom to grab a cloth to clean you up and himself, and then joined you back in the bed with camera in his hands.
“Shall we watch it before we upload it online?” He asked, brow cocked. You looked at him; his hair was a mess and his lips were red, his body had sweat glistening all over. He looked thoroughly fucked out, and you wanted to see him fucking you while looking like this for… who knows how many minutes. So, you nodded. “Alright,” he murmured and poked around the camera. You settled against his arm, head resting on his meaty shoulder. “Here we go…”
──
It was no surprise that watching fifty-six minutes of heavenly sex tape had led you to another round of sex. This time you riding Bucky into oblivion as he dirty talked the shit out of you.
At the very end, you decided to post the pictures first because Bucky was a bit hesitant about posting your very first sex tape online since it was ‘probably amateur’ and ‘you needed to get better a little’. You didn’t buy it, of course.
So, you cornered him only to learn that he didn’t want the video of you having sex with him the first time to be all over the internet, he wanted to keep it private. It was a very touching thought.
It only took Bucky to a little bit more cornering to admit that his crush on you back high school had never passed.
“Y-you… What?” You asked, feeling dumb. He chuckled nervously. “You have a crush on me ever since high school?” Feeling absolutely dumb, you kissed him on the lips. Bucky let out a confused noise but returned your kiss anyway. “You idiot!” You shrieked.
“What?” Bucky shrieked at you back. You kissed him again.
“I was depressed all those times thinking that you moved on from me!” You said, causing Bucky to freeze for a second. “I thought you moved on and I lost my chance…” You continued but more softly this time.
“Wait,” Bucky pulled back. “You like me back?” You nodded. He looked at you without blinking for a little while. “We are idiots. You’re in this shit with me.” You snorted as he rolled his eyes. But then, he leaned in to give you the softest kiss ever. You sighed happily. “So, are you up for a ‘congrats-you’re-an-idiot-couple’ sex?” He asked, face scrunching adorably.
Laughing, you climbed on his lap again and kissed him passionately as his answer. Bucky just moaned and indulged in it happily.
3K notes · View notes
palbabor-writes · 3 years
Text
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
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“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.”
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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!  
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Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study
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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?”
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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?
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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. 
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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?”
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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
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hoonhrt · 3 years
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EMBRASSE-MOI
: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader
: genre — fluff, crack 
: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne 
: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!! 
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Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons. 
“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already. 
“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 
“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.
“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right? 
“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this
Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust. 
“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath. 
“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing. 
“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you. 
You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil. 
“Okay, so how much french do you even know?” 
He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows. 
“THAT’S IT?” 
“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time. 
“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet. 
“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.  
“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding. 
“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more. 
“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face. 
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A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you. 
042-002-1130: bonjour 
042-002-1130: was that even right
042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig 
042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right 
042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius 
You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm. 
Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand. 
“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips. 
“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.” 
“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you. 
“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up. 
The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him. 
He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this. 
“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?) 
You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it. 
“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently. 
“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!) 
“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.
His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.
“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap. 
“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought. 
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anne-i-write · 3 years
Text
moriarty the patriot headcannons
| requested by anon: can you write headcanons for moriarty brothers meeting and having dinner with s/o's parents for the first time? and s/o's father is overprotective. thanks 🤍🙆🏻 |
william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader
word count: 1857
tw: mentions of toxic behavior in albert’s hcs
a/n: IM BACK AND THRIVING BBS!!! it’s so good to be back again to writing!!! hhh i’m so sorry if this is far from what you wanted but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!!!! lowkey went off the railings w this one so 👀 also if i missed any tags, please let me know!!!!!
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william: 803 words
it had been you and your father since you were younger bc your mom was the “lucky” choice of some noble
but you wouldn’t have it any other way
you two are very close and everyone in the town knows
that, and that you both hate nobles
so it’s no surprise when the moriartys move into town, you’re both less than pleased
you always try your best to avoid them whenever they come into your town and your father always begs his friends to take the nobles as customers, despite the fact it could be good for business
but the town you lived in was particularly small and you did end up bumping into william
literally
some stupid man didn’t see you crossing the road and you were nearly crushed by the carriage if it hadn’t been for the hand that pulled at your wrist
“i swear people these days don’t know how to drive carriages.”
you don’t know who you were expecting
BUT ANYONE BUT A NOBLE
“are you alright?”
“i’m fine thank you—“
you’re absolutely flustered
how did i not know that this was a noble??? he smells so clean!
“i’ve got to be on my way now!” and you left william there with no explanation
but lil did you know he actually knew who you were
or to an extent, you weren’t as sneaky as you’d hoped you’d be
he saw you hiding in corners and alleyways every time you two accidentally made eye contact
and some of the townsfolk actually told him a little about you and your father so he understood why you weren’t too welcoming
but to take great lengths to avoid him??? he is very intrigued
so he starts off small, trying to send you a kind smile before you dart off behind a fruit stall
he really tries his best to get close to you and after a few weeks (and a few persuasive friends), he finally gets to hold a conversation with you
and boy does he fall FAST
it takes a while but you finally reciprocate his feelings and he thinks its smooth sailing from there right???
lmao everyone knows your father is literally the most intimidating looking man that could ever walk the earth
if they didn’t know him personally, they would be afraid of getting curb stomped 🤠
i mean,, he’s a big softie but god forbid anyone even DARES to look at you in a romantic light
you warn william of this and he’s like “don’t worry love, it shouldn’t be too bad”
it is bad
even william has cold hands bc your father is giving him the dirtiest look
dinner isn’t even dinner it’s a grill with how much questions your father is asking him
it does NOT help that he’s a noble
“so,,, you’re a noble”
“your cooking is amazing sir”
your father leaves the table for a little bit and you can hear the quiet sigh of relief from william
“i’m sorry for my father”
“no, no,,, i just,,, your father’s really intimidating, isn’t he?”
you let out a chuckle and william relaxed, a soft smile gracing his lips
“he can be, but it’s just something he does.” you threw a wistful gaze at the door your father disappeared before.
“he’s just worried about you, i can see it. he doesn’t want you around people like me.” you grabbed his hand over the table and he gently squeezed your hand.
“if anything, if he’d give you a chance, he’d want me to be with you. noble or not”
you both continue to have a delightful conversation, your sweet laughs filling the room
however, you didn’t know your father was listening in on your conversation and he couldn’t agree more with william
your mother left with more than just a curt goodbye and unshed tears
she left you with a tear stained letter filled with sorrowful regrets and sincere apologies
he knew you would eventually grow up to be critical of the world and if you were to find out that your mother had left unwillingly, he was afraid that you would be too bitter towards the world
but as he hears your laugh and his worries are dulled down a little
he sees you smiling so happily at william and when he chances a glance at the noble beside you, his worries are completely erased
william’s looking at you the same way everyone swore he looked at your mother
it’s a gentle gaze filled with love and kindness, one that he knew could protect you and take care of you
your father hated nobles and hovered over you when it came to love
but he couldn’t help but hold back on questions when he came back and you instantly noticed that your father took a liking william
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louis: 508 words
everyone knew you as “Little Noble” in your town
the sole reason being your father literally treating you like a noble lmao
he gave you the best of everything he could afford and tried his best to not let you do any work
tried
of course, you were a little angel and you HAD to help otherwise you’d cry about making someone else tired when you could’ve easily helped
you’ve carried this trait until your early twenties and there were no signs that you would stop
hence why you were bringing home some fresh fruits from the stall clerk before a man bumps into you
you were so caught off guard that your knee buckled and you fell on your butt
everyone was stunned into silence as you fell but louis was so apologetic
so when he helped you back up, he felt the chilling stares of the town burning into his back
and then you apologize for bumping into him when he was the one who bumped into you and you fell??????
“please, let me make you something! i feel so bad!”
he tries to decline but there was this odd pressure to say yes to you
he ends up going home with you
you’re both in front of the door before your father opens it, his eyes wide
“who is this boy?”
“oh, i didn’t get his name on the way here. what is your name?”
your poor father’s heart is pounding way too fast for his liking
“oh! look at that, thank you so much for bringing my child home! you should be going home now”
he tries to shut the door on louis but you hold it open and beckon louis inside
“i invited him here! i accidentally bumped into him earlier so i offered to make him something!”
louis is so awkward pls
your father reluctantly lets him in but gives him a side eye the whole time he’s in the house
“does your child do this often?”
“why? do you find it strange?”
YOUR FATHER IS SO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE PLEASE SAVE LOUIS
anyways, you finish making your treat and give it to louis, your father glaring at your interaction
louis is still a little stiff but the more you talk to him, his guard is let down a little
soon enough he has to leave and you wish him well
he leaves with a wave and a kind smile and you look over at your father who had been scowling since you appeared at the front door
“he is a bit cute, don’t you think father?”
your father sputters, stunned by your bold claim
“y-you’re still too young to think about men like that!”
you laugh and shut the front door, teasing your poor father about finding love while also wondering if you would meet louis again
as you talk with your father behind closed doors, louis smiles to himself as he thinks about the unusual encounter today
surely, if i met them again tomorrow, it would make for a pleasant day
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albert: 546 words
he meets your father before he meets you
it was during a ball your parents organized in order to connect with the more prestigious nobles around you
your parents were obsessed with the way your family was viewed and apparently being an earl wasn’t enough
so albert hears about you when your father boasts about how you’re the perfect child who answered to his every beck and call
in all honesty, albert was disgusted
no one deserved to be brought up like that
he casually makes his way into the conversation and your father is seething
“my child is your age, it’s a shame you act like this, i would have thought of you as a prime husband for them”
who is this earl to tell him what to do?
needless to say your father crosses him off of the guest list for the next ball
days go by and your father doesn’t know that you’re currently in town, doing what you can to help the working class as best as you can
it is on one particular day of visiting an orphanage do you run into the eldest moriarty brother
you two exchange polite greetings and you both pause
“your father is the earl, is he not?”
“you are a general of the army, are you not?”
a brief mention of your father and your mood dulls slightly
“yes, but i’m here on my own accord”
he would kill you if he found out you were amongst the “filth” as he called them
“well, i’ve brought books for the children, would you like to help me read some to them?”
he seemed sincere enough to not want anything more from you, so you agreed
he was actually very pleasant to be around and you find yourself enjoying his company
the meetups continued to happen and soon enough, albert finds himself standing in front of the doors to your family estate
your father is not pleased at all
“it’s nice to meet you again, sir”
“i didn’t forget about what you said to me at our first meeting”
and you’re sitting there like,, ????? they’ve met??? and your father doesn’t like albert???????
of course, inviting albert to your home would have repercussions but you didn’t expect your father to be so hostile
he was always hostile towards other nobles unless they were of higher importance than him
but for him to hate albert so quickly and openly??? this was quite new
you had mentioned that your father has always been one for power so it was clear to albert that you obviously grew up in a home that was more,,, toxic than protective
it was at dinner that this behavior reached its peak and albert despised the atmosphere and the way your father treated you
“i’ve come here to ask for your child’s hand in marriage”
your father rejects the idea without any hesitation
“i refuse to have them live the rest of their life in your household when they could do so much better”
when you invited albert that night, you knew there would be repercussions with your father
but what you didn’t expect was that you would leave your father and adopt the moriarty name as your own, the family welcoming you with open arms
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moriarty the patriot taglist: @zoehanji
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catzula · 3 years
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Omg I’ve read some of ur fics and ur SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER! Can I pls request a Bakugou x fem!reader where he comes home angry and when u try to comfort him he just says something that hurts u. End it with fluff plzz THANK YOU
Genre: angst with a good ending
Warnings: language, bakugou being somewhat a shitty boyfriend, the reader is very forgetful if you haven’t noticed and it's me since I can’t remember anyone’s birthday or any important date to save my life
Synopsis: it’s Bakugou’s birthday, so why isn’t he still home?
So, maybe you weren’t good at remembering birthdays.
And it was true you forgot your boyfriends’ birthday once- it took a long time for you to get him to talk to you again. As if he wasn't grumpy enough already.
And even though he insisted he hated birthday parties and celebrations, you knew how much he liked to see his friends coming together to celebrate.
Well, you always thought he liked it when you were there, too.
Or maybe not.
Remembering the last time, how much he scolded and silent treated you, you wanted to make up for forgetting his birthday, and your anniversary and- yeah, you did forget quite a lot, you wanted to make up for it all.
Since you usually celebrated his birthday not precisely on his birthday but always the day after, you thought it was actually going to be a surprise for him this time. You had also planned a party for the next day to celebrate with his friends, but you wanted to celebrate this one with him and only him.
You gave it your everything to celebrate his birthday in the best way possible, you knew he didn’t like going out to eat, so you decided to make it in your apartment.
You baked a cake, cookies, and those gluten-free shit that he liked, a meal you never thought you would be able to handle, roses and candles… and it was evident how much time and thought you gave to it, making you smile proudly at yourself.
So as you waited for him to come back from work- you took the day off to get everything ready, you were all jittery with excitement.
What would his reaction be? That was all you could think of as you waited for the familiar sound of key jingles.
And waited.
And… waited.
You had been leaving texts and calls to his phone almost every hour, but you knew he never was the type to check his texts anyway, he probably would be home before he even saw your texts.
The night felt longer and longer as you looked at the clock, moving.
A familiar lump was forming in your throat, a feeling of stinging in your eyes making you furious with how easily you felt down. He was probably just… late because of work.
At least 5 hours late, though.
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat that was hurting at this point, to look up so the make-up that you spent hours on wouldn’t smudge, to plaster a smile on your face so that you could smile brightly when he entered the room.
It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted to make him happy.
You bit your quivering lip as you finally stood up, taking the untouched food from the table that was now ice-cold, and even though it looked mouth-watering, you didn’t feel like taking a bite.
It just… it just hurt to see the food you spent so much time on, the one you tried a few times beforehand so it would be perfect go to waste, without him even getting to taste it.
It would have been bearable if you just knew he would come really late, or that he wouldn’t come at all, but the feeling of suspense, to jump in your place and get ready to surprise him whenever you heard footsteps, that was the most tiring of it all.
You didn’t lose your composure, though. Not until you had decided to blow out your favorite 'special ocasion' candles so that they wouldn't go to waste.
No, you didn't let yourself cry until you had noticed they had melted, the now frozen wax puddling beneath the candle holders and staining the table.
You sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that stung your eyes.
You weren't crying at the candles, of course, but more at the fact that you had been waiting for him for that long, but Bakugou still wasn't home.
Your boyfriend wasn’t home on his birthday.
You bit your lip, trying to turn a deaf ear to your dark thoughts that kept repeating you the same thing, that Bakuogou wasn't here, was it because he didn't love you anymore? Because he was bored of you, that he hated you and that-
As you furiously wiped the tears that felt like they were burning your skin, angry at yourself for pitying yourself like this, new ones filled their place instead, and it soon was near impossible to stop crying.
He wasn’t home as you were crying either, though.
He came home long, long after that, after you had finally stopped crying, the sobs that were shaking you now just soft sniffs and sighs.
You heard the keys jiggling for a minute, unable to open the door on the first try, he opened the door a bit too roughly.
He probably wasn't drunk, Bakugou was never the type to like losing himself, his control, and his logic, but it was evident he wasn't exactly sober, either.
You didn’t have it in you to jump from your seat as you did a million more times that day, neither did you have the energy to go running into his arms, drown him in kisses-
You just lay there on the couch, your make up smudged as you stared at the ceiling, probably causing you to look like the dead corpse bride.
“At least come greet me, will ya?” He mumbled, the words causing your blood to boil in your veins. You didn’t answer back.
“Oi, Y/N!” You heard him call out, his eyes roaming around the room, trying to understand why there were so many roses and balloons around the shitty room until his gaze found you.
You who laid on the couch, looking at the ceiling, your mascara, and eyeliner or whatever the fuck it was called running down your face in tear stains. But it was the look on your eyes that caused a lump to form in his stomach.
Blank.
“What are you-”
“H-hey, Katsu.” You said weakly, almost a whisper. You bit your lip, trying to gather the courage to say the words to him. “Happy birthday.”
Your voice cracked with emotions, Bakugou felt a wave of goosebumps tingling on his skin, well aware something was very wrong.
It took him a while to understand what was going on, and his only reaction was, “Well, shit.”
You stood quiet.
“We were out with shitty hair and- I didn’t notice it was this late.” He told you as he checked the hour on his phone, noticing the missed calls and texts, grimacing internally.
You were still quiet, though.
“I didn’t think you were gonna do something for me, damn it!” He snapped, expecting a reaction, any reaction, but he got none. You just stared at him, and it felt him feel so guilty.
“H-how could I have known? I thought you had forgot!” He continued, and that got a reaction from you, a grimace that looked like he just slapped you, and a single tear trickling down your cheek. He noticed your widening eyes, realizing how the words came out, trying to correct himself as he walked towards you.
“I’m not blaming you, for fucks sake, I’m just saying that- that you aren’t very good with dates and you usually forget these shitty things.” Now that he tried to explain it, it sounded even worse, so he decided to shut up, instead.
A few minutes of silence passed, your eyes never once meeting his crimson ones, and he noticed you rising to your legs. “I hope you had fun.” You shrugged with a faint smile. The way your lips trembled despite the smile just made him want to pull you in a hug, apologize until he couldn’t even talk.
But he didn’t, of course.
He watched you walk into the bedroom, not missing how you secretly tried to wipe your tears away.
Bakugou stood up, going to the kitchen to drink some water to get rid of this ridiculous lump in his throat and this tightness in his chest, his eyes falling on the two plates that stood on the counter, the untouched food that stood in them, apparent that there was too much time that was spent on it.
You hadn’t touched your food, either, he noticed. You had to be hungry. Bakugou bit his lip that started to quiver for some stupid reason, took the metal fork that felt cold between his fingers, taking a bite out of the food that would have been the best thing he ate if it was warm. Only if he had come sooner, maybe he could’ve enjoyed it with you, laughing at some stupid shit you said.
He thought you forgot.
Bakugou was afraid you were thinking that he was punishing you for the last time. He was so afraid you would think that since it was exactly the type of thing that he would do.
Not to you, though.
Never to you.
He thought you forgot.
He thought you… forgot.
“Y/N?”Bakugou muttered when he went back to the bedroom, noticing your figure that stilled instantly in the bad in a pitiful attempt of acting asleep.
“I know you’re awake, dumbass.” He mumbled, sitting on the bed, his hand reaching to your face and pushing back the hair that was touching your frame. Your face was wet with tears, skin warm with emotions.
“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered, aware of how you flinched at his words, under his touch.
“I’m really sorry.” He repeated, voice hoarse and sincere, that it caused you to open your eyes and look at him for the first time that night.
Did he have to look that handsome as he broke your heart?
“Katsuki?” You whispered, his thumb caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you. “Did you rather be with them than me?” You finally asked, the question that was eating you alive the moment you noticed that he wasn't coming home.
“No.” He answered plainly, but that was all you needed to have a soft smile settle on your lips. 
It took you a while to break your silence. “I didn’t burn the kitchen today.” You told him nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened, but Bakugou knew you too well, aware of how hurt you still were, and how you were trying to avoid it instead of confronting.
“I noticed.” He answered with a slight tilt of his lips.
“Are you hungry? I think there are some cookies in the counter-” 
“Y/N," He stopped you. "I’m sorry.” Bakugou repeated, his words causing your eyes to water. He settled down next to you as you tried to hide the tears sliding down your cheek, pulling your face to his chest so you could hide your face from him. His arms wrapped around you, he settled his chin on top of your head, cooing soft words at you.
You were content with his caramel scented hands caressing your hair, and you face as if trying to etch it into his brain, with the soft gaze in those crimson eyes that looked at you with love and guilt, but it was oddly relieving to have him apologize.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, and you sobbed and sobbed.
It was odd that whatever happened, it was always between his arms you found peace, felt safe.
“I love you.” He whispered into your hair after a while, after you had stopped crying, on the verge of sleep. “The food was good.” He smiled, his voice being the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, and he finally felt the tightness in his chest dissolve when he saw the shadows of your sadness on your face disappear, causing him to pull you even more towards him.
Whatever happened, even when you broke each other's hearts, having you between his arms was all you needed to mend a broken heart.
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levisgirll · 3 years
Note
hello! if it's okay can i please request a little levi comfort one shot or headcanons? basically where he helps his s/o through a point in her life where she feels like she isn't good enough for levi or anyone and is just a crying mess in her room? lots of fluff please! thank u so much <3
𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 (𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬) ♡
text: wow thank you so much sweet anon for your request!!💕💕 i took my time to write this because i wanted it to be special and tried my best so i hope u enjoy this :,) pls send another request if you want to later in the future! ( i like ur ideas-). also sorry this was super late, i was busy with personal things and it got really hard for me to handle which took long ;c
synopsis: you were going through a really hard phase in your life right now. thinking you are not good enough to anyone, and not just anyone but especially your boyfriend, levi. he knows you well, too well, and he knows something is definitely up with you. once he finds out the reason he becomes devastated and comforts you in his own way which you realize it was quite unique and rare.
okay but big warning this is super fluff which will warm your heart (i promise!), and a lil bit of angst I guess🥺💕 enjoy!
He started to pick this up when you did not say ‘love’ back to him and when you started to avoid him, and talk less with him.
He tries to go closer to you and I find Levi trying to find the the right words what to say to you and he struggles to get the chance to hold your hand.
This actually made him upset and I find Levi a guy who later goes back and reflects everything he might have done to upset his girlfriend.
And this is canon, because Isayama stated the scene with rod, when Eren stopped as soon as he said that ‘comment’ when Levi was behind him, this made Levi think that had to mean this is how Eren and probably the others sees him. So when you slowly started to avoid him or not reply to him, this made him sad and he HAD to find out how to comfort u! sure he got upset but he wont sit down and do nothing.
It hurts his heart, because you are his lover.
But one day, he entered your bedroom and saw you crying your eyes out. Holding on to yourself as you sat down on the edge of your bedroom, sobbing. This shocked him, and his eyes would be wide open.
Since he shows a lot with actions, when he sees you crying, he goes and sits next to you and starts to rub from the nape of your neck and going down to your back slowly, showing that he is trying to calm down your sobbings and that he is here for you. “Let it out love, you have been strong for too long so don't hold back your tears.” Levi would say as you started to calm down. His heart would hurt and be in pain as he sees his lover cry, he wanted to help but he knew that it was always good to let it out first and wait till you are ready.
He then would mention all the times you were so nice, great and the many things you have done for him and others (just to cheer you up a bit) that y/n never even acknowledged. “D-Did I do that? I can’t seem to remember...” You would say as you wipe your tears with your fingers, Levi would sigh and give you a small smile, “You cant be forgetting that? that's why you mean a lot to me.” as he ruffled your hair.
He would go on and say that if you had close friends, family, etc and then including himself, there were people who care and love you. “And, you know I am always rooting for you to pull though whatever phase you are going through. I want you...to feel happy again, Y/N.” He would say quietly and softly rub your hands while looking at your E/C eyes, he was also clearly blushing and he tried his best not to stutter (cause that's how he is when he has a heart to heart conversation with you and he wants you to feel his warmth and love through his words)
“Whenever your ready to tell me either tomorrow or in a couple of days, that is fine but just know...I'm here.” Levi would say and hug your chest so lovely, you finally calmed down and decided to tell him what was bothering you.
Y/N: “It’s just....I feel like am”
Levi: “Like?”
Levi would patiently wait for your response and still looking at your eyes waiting for your answer as he was holding your face with both of this hands. “Like I’m not enough for....you” you looked away and pulled your face away from his face.
He was looking at you with a hurtful look on his face. Levi feels bad actually that you been thinking like this around him this whole time. “I thought I made u feel somehow special, cause you make me feel like that.”
He moved away and was by your side, he touched your hand and was pulling your fingers that was on the bed. “I’m sorry you were feeling like this. But, what is enough to begin with? Isn’t just being who you are...the good, kind, badass and lovely person you are is enough instead? To be good is enough, and I value that about you..”
“Levi….Love.” You say as you hiccup from your tears. That signaled him to go near you, so he got a chair and brought that in front of you as you were sitting on the edge of the bed and he held your hands softly and carefully while brining his handkerchief to wipe your tears that was running down your cheeks. “You know…I don’t think there was a day I did not think of you or did not love you. I cant even think of a day where I wasn't....and instead the days you weren’t by my side my mind was just filled with you.”
He does small affections and talks from the bottom of his heart while looking at you filled with love, and it was only to you and that meant a lot. He wouldn’t even do this to anyone as he doesn’t let anyone see this side of him but y/n, he cherishes this relationship so much.
He starts to take this opportunity to compliment you when he was longing to do that but, never knew how and when cause he was really nervous. He starts to talk how pretty your eyes, scars, hair, lips, body and so on is.
As he is complimenting you, go would go near you and towards your shoulders to leave some kisses there while he would brush your hair with his slender fingers smoothly “Is this okay?”. He wants to know if what he is doing is making you feel calm so he would continue if you nodded. He then whispers to your ear as he closes his eyes, “do you feel my love?”
He will encourage your self-care and confidence, because he really wants the best for you and realize how amazing you are!
“You know, I would be a fool to leave you alone tonight. I promised you that I will do everything in my power to help you once we got together to make us happy, Hm? So let me remind you tonight how special and enough you are to me..”
He would hold each of your finger one by one and stating every reason how much you mean to him “...even your fingers cant match up to the many reasons why you mean a lot to me.” Levi said with a soft chuckle and you started to blush.
After you and Levi spent a long time together, you both laid down on your bed and y/n slept first which gave Levi the chance to stare at your beautiful face this whole night. He loves it when you sleep next to him as he held you with his strong muscular arms, because this makes him at ease and at peace, he loved your presence it was magical to him.
After that long evening, he doesn't stop to show you his love and how much he thinks of you so he leaves you flowers on your bed whenever he goes out on a mission or even to wall sina/rose and you find that so pure. I see Levi actually doing this for his s/o as he tries to make up for his lack of words(cause he is kind of awkward with romantic words but that is only because he loves u deeply!!) he leaves u these flowers and you collect them all in a vase and that makes him wanna get you more.
Your presence meant the world to him, and Levi does not just pick ‘anyone’ to be his significant other and he felt such a lucky man to find you instead. This guy really loved his girlfriend, y/n.
Levi starts to interlock your pinky, he took this chance to finally overcome his awkwardness and shyness and he would do it anywhere.
Whenever you guys go out to buy something Levi would not let you leave the shop until you pick something. “Go on then, pick what you like.”
If you ask him literally ANYTHING, he is more than happy to try his best to help you and if he might not be able to, he will get others that will help you. In the end of the day you are gonna get that help.
When you both clean and you are both alone while the others went off to clean the other places, he would go behind you and hug you tightly around your waist and breathe in “you smell nice love, and you look nice.” And he would give you a long and soft kiss on the nape of your neck. No one would even believe you if you tell them that he is now recently doing this, but that just shows how special, important and enough you are to him and not anyone can see this side but you ❤️
He actually goes out and look for you one evening and he takes you to a nice spot in the cliff and u guys star gaze together?? I really see Levi doing this to cheer up his significant other and he would make his move later on by putting his hand around your waist and would give you kisses on your cheek under the moonlight. “Wow, it’s a beautiful night sky” his girlfriend would say looking up with finally a smile on her, this made Levi extremely happy inside. “It sure is, love.” Looking at you instead of the night sky with his soft smile that warmed your heart. It made your mind race. You were the only one who made him feel like this and even smile. You were more than enough to him.
Y/N: “Can we stay a little bit longer?”
Levi: “Little? Tch, I don't mind all night for you.” He would say while looking away to hide his face cause he was being nervous and he knew his face was red now!
He likes to watch your face reactions and expressions to any of his tea he would make for you or some snacks he would buy for you, and he finds it so cute. It was another of many ways to show his affection towards you.
Things happen for a reason right? and this made you see more of Levi and your bond with him was now stronger than ever.
Now, whenever you feel sad or want to cry, you now realize you have a shoulder to cry on and it was your amazing boyfriend, Levi.
He is literally more than ready to drop everything and give you one big embrace. “Darling, just know I am deeply in love with you. And I’m here to help, I mean what are partners for, Hm?” 
Like how he is always here to save you, have your back, support you, he will surely do anything else for you.
i hope you liked this anon and you are able to see this post c: <3 and if anyone else perhaps enjoyed it please leave a like or a reblog! I would appreciate it a lot <3 thanks again everyone :,)
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asssikawa · 3 years
Text
pretty boy swag
i was just in a silly goofy mood, dont take it seriously pls;; gojo x gn! reader
summary: gojo being a pick me boy for you
AU where curses don’t exist; tw underaged smoking and drinking courtesy of shoko. art by @reiouta
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you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the menace to society; satoru gojo. as of the passing recent months, he started actually acknowledging your existence after months of hanging around his acquaintances. you weren’t sure if you missed that he walked past you as if you were thin air, constantly bumping shoulders with him or gojo actually pestering you in the name of “wanting to get closer.”
walking down the empty halls of your school, you had memorized each route gojo and his group walked down… just to avoid them. an all too familiar voice followed by a song boomed in the empty hallways; dread immediately rose in you, as you attempted to pick up speed to lose track of the white haired teen. “pretty boy coming through,” he said in a sing-a-long voice, his eyes landing on your distant figure. “(name)!” he called out, making you flinch. slowly, you turned your head, a forced smile burning the sides of your mouth.
“hey gojo,” you squeaked out; you wished you could beat yourself up for sounding so meek. on gojo’s sides, two others peered out, the more tolerable ones from the group; suguru getou and shoko ieiri. a sigh of relief left your mouth upon seeing the two. getou’s usual content expression morphed into one of a sly fox.
“now gojo, it’s not nice to scare the underclassmen. you should know better,” getou said, followed up by shoko’s sarcastic tsk tsk of disappointment.
“right? what would poor utahime think about you bothering her best friend?” shoko said. she wore gojo’s sunglasses, adjusting them every now and then when they slid down her high nose bridge.
you take it back. they were just as bad as him.
gojo’s mouth opened to say something, but the bell cut him off. saved by the bell; quite literally. “get to class,” he said instead, another smirk splitting his face.
“i plan to,” you deadpanned, before hastily rushing to your first period, math. never have you wanted to be in math class so bad until gojo popped into your life. hell, you weren’t even good at math.
why had he started tormenting you out of all people? there was nothing particularly extraordinary about you; maybe it was the fact you were close to utahime? or nanami and haibara?
lost in your thoughts and endless possibilities, you had missed the bell ringing until the bubbly boy peered over your desk. his doe-like eyes scanned your dazed out face. “(name)? earth to (name)?” haibara said, waving his hand in front of your face. the taller blond man sighed, watching you finally snap out of your thoughts.
“you don’t even have any of the notes written, (name), that isn’t good for the quiz tomorrow,” nanami said, pulling out his composition book, before beckoning you to take the notebook.
“kenny,” you started.
“i’ll take that notebook right back if you call me that again.”
“you are godsent,” you said, batting your eyelashes his way. a hearty laugh emitted from haibara, his bright smile nearly lit up nanami’s mood once more.
“what’s got you thinking so hard?” haibara asked, draping his body over the seat while watching you pack up.
“surely if you’re thinking, it’s never good,” nanami muttered, earning an offended ‘hey’ from you. pressing your cheek against your balled fist, letting out a small hum. do you tell them or not?
“it’s just that, you know how gojo had never acknowledged me before? he’s been non stop pestering me these days and i’m thinking to myself; why? he couldn’t possibly like utahime and trying to get information out of me, she hates his guts!” you exclaimed, adjusting the bag over your shoulders. the duo glanced at each other, focusing back on you.
“(name), have you considered that he may like you? you know? have a crush?” haibara said, scratching the back of his head. you stayed silent for a while, pondering on the idea of gojo liking you.
“that’s a joke right,”
“why are you so pessimistic about people actually taking interest in you, romantically?” nanami asked, leaning against the desk.
“no romantic attention from anyone my entire life,” you said, standing from your seat.
“how lonely,” haibara responded.
~
the last few periods went by quicker than expected. the ring of the bell pulled you out of your thoughts, turning away from the window. it was surprisingly beautiful for this time of year; the skies were blue, soft fluffy clouds passed every now and then. the occasional gust of wind rattled windows of your class as your teacher paused his lecture. you preferred the gloomy weather, but seeing the clear skies was nice. packing up your materials and standing, you peered out the door, widening your eyes. down the hall was your trio of haibara, nanami and utahime… speaking to the other trio. utahime’s raven hair was tied in a low ponytail, a vague look of annoyance washed over on her face as gojo spoke, her expression softened every time shoko had interjected the conversation. you always wondered why the two aren’t dating yet. nanami’s eyes landed on your figure, his fingers pointed downwards towards the steps, in hopes gojo hadn’t seen you yet.
unfortunately for the both of you, he had caught notice of nanami’s subtle hand motions and followed his eyes towards you. “wow, it’s (name)! we were just waiting on you!” gojo said, his sunglasses shifted downwards, revealing his icicle blue eyes. utahime turned towards you, mouthing an ‘i am so sorry.’ reluctantly, your feet dragged along the halls, it felt as if weights were tied around your ankles. eventually, you made it towards the group; gojo’s long arm draped around your shoulders. your heart raced at the sudden gesture, heat raising to your face. “wouldn’t we be so cute together? look how big my hand is compared to theirs!” he exclaimed, his hand engulfed in yours.
“nah, you guys wouldn’t, sorry he’s so annoying, (name). no wonder why getou gets more hoes than you,” shoko said, pulling out a single cigarette and a lighter from her bag. her auburn eyes met yours, “want one?”
“shoko! how many times do i have to say not to smoke? and (name) is young too!” utahime sighed, earning a small ‘sorry’ from the girl. the black haired teen peered over at you, another sly expression settling over his face.
“say, satoru; let me compare hands with (name) too, i want to see something,”
“you can compare from afar,” gojo responded, pulling you closer to his side. a chesire cat grin split shoko’s face, slinging her arm over your body as well.
“cmon satoru, sharing is caring~” her body smelt of husky tobacco, traces of pinewood on her uniform. her breath smelt like strawberry bubblegum; her glossed lips came closer to your ear, “play along,” she whispered, her brunette strands brushing against your cheek. a snore followed by a scoff came from gojo’s scrunched up expression.
“don’t you have a bottle of vodka you should be downing? besides (name) doesn’t like girls like you,” he said, sticking out his tongue.
“well, why don’t we ask (name), what do you say?”
“don’t put them on the spot like that; seriously, you guys, you’re third years for pete’s sake,” utahime swatted shoko’s arm off your body whilst poking gojo’s side, making him squeal as he let go of you. a frown replaced his usual cocky expression.
“geez utahime, i didn’t take you as the jealous type- ouch, what was that for?” gojo exclaimed, the water bottle bouncing off his head. he rubbed his head. you stared at haibara’s sympathetic expression, still processing everything that happened within a matter of minutes.
just what the fuck was going on?
weeks had passed since that incident and things had become fairly normal again. your grades were flourishing, with the help of haibara and nanami. the three of you have been hanging out more often; utahime and shoko finally started dating. the two of them occasionally tagged along with your trio. gojo has finally stopped pestering you; you should be happy, no? you had convinced yourself that you didn’t miss the attention from the white haired teen. everything you did felt empty without his presence.
you had memorized each hallway gojo and his group walked down, passing through them; in hopes he would stop you, calling your name in his usual whiny voice. you didn’t hear his favorite song; no more him bringing you close with his lanky arms. subconsciously, you brought your hand close to your shoulders, feeling the ghost of gojo’s touch. “(name)? what are you doing here? more like, why are you standing there?” a feminine voice called out. you turned, seeing shoko standing down the hall, her bag slugged over her shoulder, a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips.
“shoko,” her name left your lips in a hushed whisper. “why are you here?” she quirked her lip to the side, pursing her pink lips.
“i’m heading to see menace 1 and menace 2, now, answer my question. you hardly come around these parts,” shoko said, leaning against the wall.
“can i come with you?”
“huh… ah, you miss gojo?” overwhelming amounts of embarrassment washed over your expression; you could already sense your face radiating in heat.
“whatever! i just want to check up on him, that’s all.”
walking down the road, you and shoko conversed, her short auburn tresses blowing in the wind. the roads and sidewalks were painted orange as the sun nestled under the skyline.
“i thought you stopped smoking?” you asked, as shoko tossed the finished cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping on it.
“i’m trying for utahime, but it gets hard when i’m stressed, you know? especially with dumb and dumber,” she said, pulling out a silver flask.
“shoko!”
“what? do you want a sip?”
“no!”
sitting at the park, getou and gojo awaited shoko’s arrival. squinting his eyes at the distance, getou spotted two figures walking towards them. “looks like shoko has company,” getou mentioned, looking back at his taller companion. a frustrated groan left gojo; his glasses slipping down his face.
“good god, if she brings utahime again,” he responded, extending his arms on the bench, his legs spread out. a sly smirk twitched onto getou’s face.
“hey shoko and (name)!” getou exclaimed, waving. gojo’s half-lidded eyes shot open at your name, adjusting his sunglasses. his lanky body rose from the bench, straightening out his sluggish position. he cleared his throat, crossing his legs over each other. upon seeing getou and shoko greet one another, your eyes drifted off to the white haired male sitting in the background, avoiding eye contact with you. a crestfallen expression washed over your face, shuffling over to gojo.
“hey, gojo,” you said softly, sitting across from him. he let out a hum of acknowledgement before looking down at the painted bench. “why have you been avoiding me?”
“why have i been avoiding you? i don’t know (name), maybe just maybe, it’s because i don’t want to bother you with my advances, y’know? could be a contributor i guess, i don’t know, it’s a mystery,” gojo responded, traces of sarcasm in his usual bright voice. he was quite literally a child, huh? your mind recoiled, a frown twitching onto your face. is this who you really want to date?
“listen, i know, and i’m sorry; i just miss you a lot, okay? i like you by my side,” you muttered the last part to yourself. unfortunately for you, gojo had heard every single bit of it.
“huh? what did you say?” he teased, resting his hand on top of yours. his glasses slide down his nose, revealing his ice blue eyes. “you like me, eh?”
“don’t push it.”
the winter semester rolled by rather quickly. walking into the heated building, you removed your outside shoes and scarf. after preparing yourself for the long day, you walked down the hallway, spotting your group down the hallway. peering over the group, gojo waved at you with a big smile, his cheeks and nose tip flushed red from the cold. “babe!” he said, walking over to you with opened arms. heat rose to your face, as he wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with small kisses. his cold fingers cupped your feverish skin. “my own personal heater,” he said.
“hey, get a room, you two,” shoko said, pulling out an unlit cigarette. utahime frowned at her, as shoko mumbled a small sorry before putting away the cigarette.
“i know miss locking lips isn’t talking,” gojo sneered back. “guys look at how cute (name) is compared to me! their hands are so small!” he gushed, pressing your warm hands against his.
if it were you four months ago, you’d rip away your hand in disgust, however, a warm smile split your face, holding onto his long slender fingers.
“look they are even holding onto me,” gojo said, as the bell rang. everyone shuffled around to their respective classes as you and your group stayed at the end of the hall. with a smirk, his white eyelashes fluttered under his sunglasses. they slowly went down his nose bridge, exposing his beautiful eyes once more. “get to class.”
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elysianslove · 3 years
Text
when the stars align; oikawa tōru
requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞
pairing; oikawa tōru x reader 
warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself
note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(
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━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.
“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.
the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.
instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.
i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.
not surprising. what did u do
the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.
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“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.
oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.
despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.
“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”
“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.
“but you still chose me,” he teases.
your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.
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by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.
the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.
makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.
and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.
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the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.
and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?
he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa. 
you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn? 
or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?
sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.
none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.
as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.
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two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.
outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.
either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.
“alright, spit it out.”
his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”
you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.
“i’m not—”
“oikawa.”
“stop it, i’m fine—“
“tōru.”
“i can’t do this anymore.”
your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.
his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.
you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.
“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”
what?
“what?”
he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you. 
but then he kisses you. 
his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful. 
when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features. 
“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.
 it all comes together, and the stars finally align. 
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end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3
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Text
Take It Out On Me
Happy Smutty Saturday! I seem to like writing things revolving around the pandemic lmaoo I'm sorry, I don't want to make that a habit. This is escapism, after all. Anyways, request from god knows how long ago about angry fucking with our fav gremlin boi
Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Reader (Female)
Warnings: 18+. There's some angst, some words exchanged in anger but nothing too crazy. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls don't be dumb) Rough sex, dirty talking, hints of BDSM if you squint, praise kink if you squint.
Word Count: 3K
Tag List: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix
Enjoy!
When the pandemic started, things weren’t so bad. Your job allowed you to simply work from your laptop, you had turned the second bedroom/storage room into a makeshift office and it worked just fine. Merriell, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had been laid off, and, at first, was incredibly stressed about it. Thankfully though, you made enough money to cover the rent and the government came through with some financial aid that helped Mer pay for the bills. You’d be okay.
In fact, once the financial stresses were taken care of, it was actually kind of nice. You two hadn’t lived together long, but long enough that you had noticed your schedule differences and long enough to know you had missed each other. Gone were the late nights at the shop that left you lonely and missing his touch. Quite the contrary, during the first few months, you had fucked like rabbits. He had taken you in every room of the house like you were christening the damn thing all over again. The kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, hell, he even had you in your ‘office’ at one point. It was fun, being together all the time.
Until it wasn’t.
Eventually, being cooped up in the same goddamn space all the damn time got to both of you. And you loved him dearly but god he was so fucking annoying sometimes. Usually, you could avoid creating tension either by slinking away to your office for a bit or politely asking him to take a walk. But the office door had been a lost cause ever since he fucked you up against it so hard it came right off its hinges and it was raining outside, so he couldn’t leave. You were stuck.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the little things that usually didn’t matter had gone unchecked and undiscussed and were beginning to bite at your skin in a way you couldn’t ignore. For you, it had started when you went to the bathroom in the morning, only to discover he had left the toilet seat up and you fell right through. For him it had started when you unconsciously kicked him awake at 6 in the morning on a Saturday. And from there it spiraled. By the time you were ready for coffee, he had drunk the whole pot.
“Thanks for leaving me some.” you had grumbled, and maybe you meant it in good fun, but your sleepy attitude struck a chord, and you knew that because it was met with silence.
So maybe that’s why you didn’t ask him if he wanted some of the eggs you were making for breakfast. And maybe that’s why he decided the be extra loud when he finally made his own breakfast. Pots and pans clanging as he threw them in the sinks, cupboard doors slamming shut and using his fork just a little too violently in a way that set your whole being on edge.
By the end of the day, you had snapped at each other a few times and the tension was so thick that you could barely stand just being next to him. You hated that you were feeling this way, that these stupid lockdowns were driving you away from each other when all you wanted was the opposite. But you couldn’t let go of your anger and annoyance, and it bled through your veins, poisoning any conflict resolution that threatened to act as an antidote to your frustrations.
The last straw came at dinner. He had asked you what you wanted to eat and just the question had you gritting your teeth. So you had replied, telling him that he could make whatever he wanted. That, apparently, was the wrong answer.
“Jesus fucking christ,” he snarled, slamming his hand down onto the kitchen island, “Can you please jus' tell me what the fuck you want?!”
You had done nothing more than glance his way and roll your eyes, not getting a chance to respond before he was launching into a tangent.
“Seriously, what the fuck do ya think I am? Some kinda mind reader?” He asks, one hand gesturing wildly while the other keeps the counter in a white-knuckled grip, “Ya been in this fuckin’ mood all goddamn day and Darlin, I gotta say, ‘m fuckin’ sick of it.”
You bark out a sharp, bitter laugh, “Oh, you’re sick of it?” You stand up from the couch, walking behind it so you can get closer to him, “Like you haven’t been intentionally pissing me off all fucking day.”
His jaw pushes out in annoyance, both hands now gripping the countertop, “I promise you,” and you gotta give the guy credit for trying to regain some composure, “whateva’ I did to make you this goddamn bitchy was not intentional.”
“Oh, so I’m a bitch now?” You counter, folding your arms over your chest.
His eyes close and his chin tucks into his chest, recognizing his mistake but unwilling to apologize for it, “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Tell me.” you insist, stepping closer to him, “Tell me what a bitch I’ve been. Blame all your problems on me. Because that’s just easier, isn’t it?”
It’s not true. You know. He knows it. But right now, all you can focus on is the anger that’s been boiling in the pit of your stomach.
“Y’know what? Maybe this-” he cuts himself off, but his quick gesture between the two of you finishes the rest of his sentence for him. Silence fills the kitchen and now there’s salt added to the wound. Hurt swirls with your anger and you can’t stop yourself from talking even if you tried.
“No, say it.” you encourage bitterly, crossing the line into the kitchen, “Tell me how moving in together was a mistake. Tell me how you can’t fucking stand living with me. Tell me how I’m so bitchy and how sick you are of my shit. Tell me-”
Before you can finish antagonizing him, he’s got you pushed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. He’s so close to you, you can feel his breath, angry and panting on your skin. You look into his eyes, seeing them hard and cold with his anger but something else lying behind them.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and before you can even begin to be angry about it his lips are on yours and you can’t breathe.
His anger is very apparent, even as he kisses you. It’s rough, bruising, but it’s an outlet for all the negative feelings you’ve been experiencing so you kiss him back just as hard. You reach for him, unsure if you’re working to pull him closer and push him away. It doesn’t really matter though because he doesn’t let you touch him for long. Within seconds both your wrists are taken in one hand and pinned above your head. You fight against his hold, despite knowing it’s futile. In retaliation you bite down hard on his lip, feeling only a little satisfied when he pulls away in shock, his free hand coming up to check for blood. There's not.
You meet his eyes with a defiant smirk. He wants to play dirty? Fine. You can play that way too.
He steps away and for a second you think he’s actually going to walk away. But then-
“Get your ass to the bedroom.”
You almost laugh. If he thinks you’re, in any way, going to be compliant tonight, he’s sadly mistaken. Instead, you cross your arms, falling back to lean against the wall, your eyes never leaving his. He chuckles, an angry smirk crossing his features. He looks away, shaking his head, tongue poking against the side of his cheek in complete disbelief. Before you can think of your next move he’s got you thrown over his shoulder, marching the both of you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. You squirm, trying to push yourself to an angle that would let you fight his grip but it’s no use. By the time you work his hold free, he’s already dropping you on the bed. Although dropping may not be the right word, he all but slams you down, leaving you momentarily breathless.
Even then, he moves quickly. His hands move to his belt, quickly working the clasp back and off so he can slide his jeans off. Despite your anger, you feel heat pool between your legs when the fabric drops to reveal bare skin. It’s nothing new for Merriell, but it never fails to do something to you. He knows it too, a cocky smile gracing his face as he sheds his shirt too. He only lets you look for a second before he’s quickly flipping you onto your stomach. He forces you up onto your knees, hand finding the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you as he climbs onto the mattress behind you.
You put up a bit of a fight, although you’re becoming less and less focused on your anger and frustration and more focused on the feeling on his cock pressing against the back of your jean-clad thigh.
“Always seem to forget how fucking stubborn you are.” He growls into your ear, pressing himself against the line of you body while his free hand starts to unbutton and work off your pants, “Hard headed and difficult.” he continues, biting roughly on your earlobe just to here your intake of breathe and to feel you struggle against his hold, “A fucking brat.” He punctuates the last words by tugging both your jeans and panties down around your thighs roughly. You hiss at the forcefulness of the action, feeling the burn of the fabric against your skin contrasting with cool air against your bare pussy.
You’re completely at his mercy.
His presence is dominating, even though you can’t see him, his hands, one pressing on your neck to keep you still and the other caressing the swell of your ass, let you know exactly who's in charge. You don’t struggle, both of you knowing how much you want him, but you still hold an air of defiance. Your face is turned so you can breathe, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He tries to draw you out, teasing you by dragging his cock against your wetness. He alternates between taking the tip and rubbing it between your folds and fucking the space between your thighs. He knows what it does to you, can see the way you fight the urge to beg by pressing your lips together.
But you don’t fold.
“C’mon baby,” he taunts, venom laced in his words, “I know you want it.” As he talks the hand on your neck slides up into your hair, “Know you want that attitude fucked outta ya,” He tugs your hair roughly, pulling a gasp from your lips and forcing you to look back at him, “All ya gotta do is ask.”
You breathe heavily for a second, eyes locked with his, “Go fuck yourself.”
He growls, shoving your head back down into the mattress and thrusting into you roughly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as he begins to fuck you, not allowing you even a second to catch your breath. The second he sees bliss cross your features, he’s insufferable.
He laughs against a moan, “Feisty,” he comments, “but the second my dick’s in ya, you’re putty in my hands.”
You’re desperate to prove him wrong. You force your eyes open, locking them with his and pushing back against his thrusts, the headboard already banging against the wall with the force of both your movements.
“Feel’s good doesn’t it?” He asks, free hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.
“I’ve had better.” Your voice bounces with each thrust, but you’re determined to keep your composure, despite the pleasure that makes your toes curl.
Another growl rumbles through his chest and he lays another harsh smack to your rear, just to see your body react, “Liar,” he hisses, fingers digging into your skin.
His angle changes ever so slightly so that his cock now drags against your sweet spot with every movement and you can’t force your moan back. His eyes light up, laughing delightedly at the sound, “Had betta’ my ass.” he comments, leaning down to bite roughly on your shoulder, effectively leaving marks all across them, “Ya jus’ can’t help ya’self. You love it. Love the feeling of my cock in you.”
“Who says I’m thinking of you?” You shoot back.
You know it’s not true. Merriell was unlike any lover you had before, you were hopelessly and utterly ruined for anyone else. But that didn’t matter. The comment, however untruthful, hits his possessive streak just like you knew it would. He pulls out of you, flipping you onto your back and nearly ripping the remaining fabric off your body before resuming his brutal pace, this time using your wrists on either side of your head to hold you down. In this position he can ensure that you’re looking at him, leaving no doubt in either of your minds that it’s him that makes you feel like this. Only him.
“Such a fucking brat,” he growls, leaving bite marks all along your skin. By the time you’re done, there won’t be a part of your body that’s not marked by him.
He stops talking for a second, focusing instead on giving you the fucking of your life. He’d never fucked you like this. He’d been possessive, sweet, caring, loving, jealous. But never angry. Not like this. Every ounce of frustration and anger he’d felt was redirected to his hips, the air tense with the hurtful words you’d both said earlier.
“C’mon,” you taunt when he slows for a second, lips turned up in a sneer even as you pant, breathless, “That all you got?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, releasing your hands so he can move one to your throat, pressing you into the bed that way instead. It’s hard for you to breathe that way, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. And if you thought he was fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking you now.
The new angle allows him to trust deeper into you and your stubborn resolve begins to fade a little. Your hands scramble to latch onto his forearm that holds you down, not trying to push him away but just searching for purchase, for support somewhere you’ve always found it. He’s not faring much better, head rolling back onto his shoulders with a groan as he fucks you. You’re both quickly abandoning your anger in favor of the pleasure that you provide each other.
“Merriell,” you mewl, a peace offering without even realizing it.
His head snaps back to look down at you, eyes sparkling at the sound of your name on his lips for the first time tonight, “There she is,” he pants, leaning down to kiss you, open-mouthed and filthy. It’s still harsh, but the anger behind his motions is nearly gone, “My good girl, huh?”
You don’t even need to nod, to voice your confirmation. It’s not even really a question. You both know you’d come to an unspoken agreement.
“Fuck, baby girl.” he moans against your mouth, slowing his trusts just enough so he can really make you feel the drag of his cock inside you, “Oh, you feel so good.”
You love it when he gets like this. When all he can do is fuck into you and voice his pleasure. It’s a sure sign of surrender.
“Yes,” you gasp, back arching up against his as you feel your pleasure begin to reach its peak, “Merriell, I’m close.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, nodding in agreement, “C’mon, baby I gotcha. Let go for me.”
Your eyes lock with his the second you feel yourself slip over the edge. You see the way his eyes watch you, full of love that he had hidden behind his anger earlier. Your nails dig into his arm and your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself as pleasure courses through your whole body. You think that maybe you're shaking, but you’re completely detached from your conscious, knowing only the bliss he’s brought you.
Your senses come back to you just in time to feel him finish inside of you. His head buries into your neck, muffling his moans against your skin. The hand that had previously held you down now cups the back of your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh with a grip so tight, you’re sure you’ll wear his fingerprints for a week.
He collapses against you, staying buried in your heat but pulling back enough so he can kiss you passionately. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his hair as your emotions begin to rise. When he pulls back your eyes are wet with unshed tears.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing your noses together.
He nods, rubbing your noses together affectionately, “Me too,” he says, just as quiet, “Don’t leave.”
It’s a rare moment of sheer vulnerability, much needed after the heightened tensions throughout the past few days. You both knew, on some levels that the words shared earlier were spoken only out of frustration. But there was always that glimmer of doubt that you both felt. For him, it was always that you could find someone better. And for you, it was always the possibility of him growing sick of you.
You shake your head, kissing his softly, lovingly, “Never.”
After a few more moments of holding each other, he pulls out of you but doesn't move much further. He pulls you tight against his chest, kissing the top of your forehead. You bask in the silence for a handful of moments, just listening to each other breathe, finally feeling the tension between the two of you dissipate.
“Next time, can you just please put the seat down?” You murmur against his chest, a teasing tone to your voice.
He barks out a laugh and you grin against his skin at the sound.
Everything was going to be okay.
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zafirosreverie · 3 years
Note
Hi could I pls get a part 2 to slippery little spider definitely one of my fav Agatha stories x
Sorry it took me so long, dear! But here it is (Please forgive me ;-;)
Slippery little spider (Agatha x Reader) part 2 
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Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit
You swung to dodge a fireball aimed directly at your head, while Peter shot the monster in front of you.
"Dragons, why does it always have to be dragons?!" Thought.
"Hey, Y/N!" you heard Peter from your suit's communicator "Are you okay?"
"As good as I can while fighting a fucking dragon, Parker" you growled
"Yes ... that's what I meant. You seem in a bad mood."
"Did you expect me to smile and sing while I try to avoid being burned alive?" you sighed
"No, but you usually make jokes and you seem more cheerful. In fact, now that I think about it, you seemed upset when you were assigned as my partner on this mission."
You sighed again. It was true, you were quite upset when Strange told you that you should go with Parker, since your powers would be the most useful (useful? Two spiders against a dragon?! Strange needs to stop watching movies). You had objected, but since you couldn't come up with a convincing enough excuse, you had to come anyway.
In your defense, how were you supposed to explain that you had a date? Even more than that, how were you supposed to explain that you had a date, with a villain? EVEN more, with Agatha Harkness of all villains ?! You were sure that Strange would lock you up in a psychiatrist if he found out (that's if Wanda and Monica didn't murder you first).
So here you were, fighting a fucking dragon, with just another spider for reinforcement, and a deep desire to be in a little store in a small town, "saving" hostages and blushing at the flirtation of a certain witch. Too bad we don't always have what we want, right?
Just when you were thinking about it, you felt a strong blow to your back and a strong pressure around your torso. The creature had caught you with one of its claws. Dammit.
"Y/N!!" You heard Peter scream from somewhere behind you.
You gasped when the dragon opened its mouth and pulled you closer to it, ready to eat you. You closed your, resigned. Well, you guessed there were worse ways to die. At least it would be an epic death, not everyone could put "dead in battle against a dragon" as an epitaph.
“Hands off!” Another voice said and when you opened your eyes, you saw a purple smoke surrounding the monster “Take the other spider if you want, dear, but this one’s mine”
You saw how the dragon’s eyes turned purple before it released you, but you were still floating. You turned to see Agatha right behind you. The witch smirked and pulled you closer to her, so that your face was inches from hers.
“I’ve gotta admit that being replaced with a dragon is quite offensive, love” she joked and you couldn’t help but smile
“Sorry, I guess a couple of volunteer hostages aren't as important to Strange as a dragon in the middle of the city” you said
“Strange” she scoffed "I must have guessed. Typical of him ruining my plans before midnight" she sighed and caressed your cheek with a pout
“If your hostages don’t mind, I’m free tomorrow” you whispered, making her chuckle
“I’m sure they won’t” she smirked “Then let me make sure this guy is gone for good” she said and opened a portal under the dragon. You just heard it’s roar before she closed it and that was all. 
“Thank you” you said as she carefully put you on the floor
“Don’t mention it, love, i have a reputation” she winked and you giggled 
“My lips are closed” you promised and she wrapped her arms around your waist
“I have better ideas to make sure they are” she smirked bringing her face close to yours
You smiled and brushed your lips against hers, making her close her eyes. But you had made a promise. So you pushed her away gently, giggling when she frowned. 
“Thank you again for your help, but if you excuse me, I have to go. You see, I have to rescue some hostages tomorrow from the wicked witch of the west” you joked “Have a good night, Ms Harkness” you winked and swung away from there. Leaving a very frustrated Agatha and a very confused Peter behind.
___________
It seemed that the universe (and Strange) didn’t think you deserved a rest. 
It had been a week since the dragon incident and you couldn’t go to that damned store yet! Missions kept coming and they were too close between one and the other, you could barely rest a few hours before they called you back to battle. You were tired and frustrated.
“Focus, Y/N” you heard Wanda’s voice behind you and you rolled your eyes. 
You loved her, you really did! But she was getting more and more annoying as she and Strange unlocked more of her powers. Nowadays, it seemed like the sorcerer wanted the witch to be the one in charge in every single mission. That wasn’t that bad, she cared for all of you and always tried to be the main target so you wouldn’t get hurt. But she also acted like she did all the hard work, leaving the rest of you in the shadows. 
You weren’t sure if it was her fault or Strange’s, giving that he was always praising her and her abilities, but it didn’t matter. You were tired of them all. And to be honest, you couldn’t make the guilt disappear. You felt guilty for leaving Agatha like that. If you had known that you wouldn’t be able to keep your promise, you would have kissed her that night. Hell, you’d probably even do more than just kiss (if she wanted to). 
“Y/N! FOCUS” Wanda yelled again
“Y/L/N” Strange’s voice came behind you. When you turned to him, you saw he was frowning “I asked you to come here to help, but if you’re just going to get in the way, I’ll have to ask you to leave”
That was all. You snapped.
“Get in the way?!” you asked in disbelief “I am the one keeping that thing from destroying the city! Those are MY webs! Those scars on that thing? I made them! I AM THE ONE ACTUALLY FIGHTING WHILE YOU TWO JUST FLY AROUND AND MAKING JOKES WITH EACH OTHER” you yelled “You know what? Fuck you! I’m out!” 
You didn’t even hear their responses as you swung away as quickly as you could. Your vision blurred as tears began to fill your eyes. You knew you screwed up. The sanctuary was your only home and you weren't sure Strange would let you return after speaking to him like that. But you were so tired, both physically and mentally.
You didn't really think about where you were going, but your subconscious seemed to. You sniffed and smiled against your will when you realized you were at the entrance to your little town.
You landed in front of the promised store, which still had the lights on and you could see the people inside talking and laughing and looking so normal. It seems that today was not hostage day.
"Hey" someone said behind you.
"Why do they always have to come from behind?" you thought as you turned around. You smiled when you saw the boy from the other night.
"Hi" you said
"Long time no see you" he joked "We were starting to think that you had changed us for another town"
"Never" laughed "The universe just wouldn't let me come sooner"
"You should have given the middle finger to the universe then" he laughed.
His laughter was contagious and his humor was a nice change from the atmosphere you had shared with your team the last week. You even had a fight with Peter a few days ago.
"I guess the hostages managed to escape on their own, huh?" you joked
"Well, it's easy when your captor can be bribed with chocolates."
Chocolates? Agatha likes chocolates? Interesting. You would save that information for later, perhaps as an apology.
"She looked disappointed when you didn't show up" the boy said suddenly. He gave you a sad smile and you felt guilt work its way back into your stomach.
"I'm sorry" you said
"It's not me who you need to apologize to"
"I know, but it's not like I can call her and apologize. Besides, what am I supposed to say? 'Sorry for not coming to rescue the hostages you kidnapped'?" you sighed.
"Well ... I think I have an idea" he said and you raised an eyebrow.
__________
Of all the things she thought she’d find when she arrived at the store, this wasn’t on the list. To be honest, you didn’t either. 
Agatha blinked when she found you tied up with your own webs in the middle of the store. You looked embarrassed and your face was uncovered, finally giving the witch a chance to see your face. And lord were you beautiful. Too much, if the blush that adorned her cheeks was any indication.
"What's going on?" she asked, walking towards you
"Let's say the hostages decided they wouldn't wait for the villain, so they did your job, love" you winked.
This change of roles felt strange. You never thought you 'd be the one to flirt, or that Agatha would be the one to blush, but here you were, and she was fucking cute when she was nervous.
"My lady" Nick, the boy who had planned everything, came out from behind a shelf and smirked "On behalf of all the town, we offer you this sacrifice as an offer of peace"
Agatha blinked for a second, before letting out a laugh, which was quickly followed by yours and Nick's.
"And I thought I wasn't worth of your time, love" she smiled at you
"Let's just say, I learned that Strange and Maximoff are the ones who are not worth it" you answered
"Strange and Maximoff?" she frowned and crossed her arms "No, wait. Hang on a minute. They are your arch enemies now? I'll scratch their eyes out."
You laughed at that, she looked adorable that jealous.
"They could never replace you" you assured her "So, I hope I am a worthy sacrifice"
"Oh, we'll see, love" she smiled maliciously, sitting on your lap and snaking an arm around your neck to bring your face close to hers "I hope you don't run away this time, you slippery little spider"
She claimed your lips with hers.
You shook your head, brushing your lips with hers. For a moment, Agatha was worried that you would retreat again. When she noticed that your pause was to give her the opportunity to get away, she smiled and finally, did what she had wanted from the first time she saw you.
You ignored the applause and congratulations around you, lost in the sensation of her lips against yours and her hands running down your sides.
"I think we have a winner" you whispered against her mouth when she broke the kiss.
You didn't know if you meant the town's bet, or yourself, but as she leaned in to kiss you again, you decided that you didn't really care.
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caramelcal · 3 years
Text
Request:  Luke x reader? Luke tries to distract reader throughout the day (like he did to Julie) especially when she tries to talk to Nick? Which reader gets mad about and starts to ignore Luke (because she’s been trying to distract herself from her growing feels for him) and he eventually poofs into he room to talk to her about it?
Word Count: 2k
a/n: hi! sorry this took so long, instead of sitting down and working on one fic i’ve been working on five at the same time. incredibly stressful, i’ll try not to do that again lol especially considering it meant it took me ages to write them all...also someone pls give me something to name this lmao ty, and thank you for the request! 
also just in case anyone asks i will not be making a part 2 sorry ! :(
disclaimer: I do not condone the use of my work/writing without my permission. The only place this has been posted is on my (rosemoonmist) tumblr account. This has not been posted on any other platform either. If you see any plagiarism of my work please let me know! <3 People work hard on their fics, so don’t steal them ty.
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“So y/n I was thinking,” Luke starts, popping up out of thin air beside you whilst you walk along the corridors. At his unannounced presence beside you, you jump and let out a surprised squeal, gather attention from other students.
Looking around, you notice all of their stares and a blush coats your cheeks. They couldn’t see Luke, you knew that, so they thought you jumped at nothing and your squeal definitely didn’t help. Your head ducks down in embarrassment, trying to avoid the gazes of the students as you start to hurry to your locker.
“Y/n! I’m trying to talk to you here? Hello!” Luke shouts, following your quick, embarrassed walk to your locker. He leans against the locker beside you, arms crossed over his chest, “Y/n, stop ignoring me please.”  
“You know Luke, normal people don’t sneak up on others so you definitely shouldn’t,” You mutter quietly, trying not to attract any more attention from those near you. You had already embarrassed yourself enough, you definitely didn’t need to be caught talking to yourself.
Luke watches you as you get your textbooks from your locker with soft, hazel eyes, shrugging his shoulders before he speaks again, “I don’t see what’s wrong with coming to share my ideas with you.”
“When you practically ambush me in the middle of the halls and embarrass me in front of my classmates then there’s something wrong,” You whisper harshly towards the teenage ghost, who gives you a playful smile in return.
“Don’t worry about it, I think your little scream was cute,” Luke tries to playfully comfort you, but you only end up more embarrassed. Ducking your head, you clear your throat, not meeting Luke’s eyes, “Plus, if I don’t talk to you then who is? Flynn and Julie aren’t here.”
“I have friends other than Julie and Flynn, you know,” You replied with a small smile, rolling your eyes at the boy whose eyes go slightly wider in amusement.
Leaning closer to you, he whispers, “Yeah, one of ‘ems behind you right now.”
With that he pulls back, his amused smirk going wider when he sees your eyes widen in panic. At least he’s getting some enjoyment out of this because you certainly weren’t. It was almost as if you were unfrozen, whipping around after several moments of doing nothing and just standing still to see him there.
“Heyyy y/n,” He says, trying to mask the slightly judgmental look he is giving you but you notice. At this rate, you just want the ground to swallow you whole, melt into the floor or just disappear.
“Nick! Hi,” You say, feeling your throat close up as you look at him. You try to keep your eyes on him, but they quickly stray when Luke appears behind him.
“You alright, L/N?” Nick asks, looking at you strangely with concern etched into his voice.
Waving your hand about weirdly, you nod your head wildly, trying to act natural but very much not. Luke glances at you with a judgmental glance, one that he wants you to see as you laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I not be?”
“I don’t know, you’re just acting a little strange.”
“Me? I’m always strange,” You try to wave it off, hoping that soon enough this nightmare would be over and you could go back home. This has to be the most embarrassing day to ever exist, for anyone. You would give anything just to disappear right now.
“Uh oh,” Luke’s voice sounds from behind Nick, his voice teasing as he looked at you with a smile, “has someone got a crush on Nick?”
“What! No!”
Your eyes snapped over to Luke, his smile growing wider. You know that he’s messing with you, but you couldn’t let him believe you had a crush on Nick of all people. No way. You already liked someone else, Luke, so to let Luke believe that you liked Nick was not going to happen. Your eyes hesitantly look back towards Nick, where he looks at you with a confused look.
You know that you can’t explain you were talking to a ghost, he’d think you were even crazier than you actually were. Giving him an awkward laugh you rub behind your neck, “Sorry, Flynn is across the hall and is trying to be distracting.”
“Flynn isn’t even in scho-”
“Sorry, Nick! Nice talking to you but I gotta go, bye!” Cutting Nick off quickly, you wave your hand before whirling around, walking in the opposite direction. A pair of shoes caught themselves up with you, and you knew who it was. The black and white vans were kind of a giveaway.
“I think that went well.”
“Shut up, Luke.”
. . .
Thankfully, your bad and embarrassing day didn’t get much worse. You managed to get through your first classes without Luke trying to annoy you anymore, which meant that you didn’t embarrass yourself even more and when it came to lunch you holed yourself up in the library. Being in the library meant that there was no one around to embarrass yourself in front of.
Your last class rolled around and you were trying to get your head down and do your work so that you could go home and forget that this day ever happened. It wasn’t going to get much worse than it already is considering the day was practically over, so you were just waiting for the time to pass by.
“Y/n, psst,” You hear a voice whisper from in front of you, making you look up. Maybe you spoke too soon, because there Luke is, sitting on the desk in front of yours, that was thankfully empty.
You knew that Luke just liked to talk to people other than Reggie and Alex from time-to-time and you were normally a good option but not in school. And especially not after the embarrassment that happened earlier on in the morning; that’s why you ignored him.
However, it seemed that Luke really wanted your attention and was willing to do anything to get it. Whether it be constantly talking to you, distracting you from doing your work, or humming new songs, he seemed to be doing anything to be annoying.
“What do you think about this one, n/n?”
Often, you were used to Luke just using your first name, so the sound of your endeared nickname falling off of his lips effortlessly caused your heart to flutter. Luke frowned a little, he knew you were listening, he could see you press your pencil down a little harder on your paper every time he spoke, almost as if you were trying to restrain yourself from answering him.
A smirk lit upon his lips, he knew exactly what to do. Jumping off of the table, he made his way over to your desk, taking the pencil out of your hand. Your eyes went wide but you knew you couldn’t make a big deal about it, imagine they seen you jumping after a floating pencil.
Looking up at Luke, you mouthed ‘Luke, put the pencil down’ with a glare, but Luke simply smirked at you. At this rate, you thought that Luke was just trying to get you grumpy. He brought the pencil down to your level to tease you but you caught onto it, tugging it closer to you.
Luke didn’t seem to want to let go, finally glad to get your attention but it shouldn’t have been a good thing, because he was just angering you even more.
Finally managing to yank the pencil off of Luke, you heard a voice whisper beside you, “Hey y/n, are you planning on actually doing any work, or are you gonna continue to cast spells with your pencil?”
The day definitely couldn’t get worse after that.
. . .
After that, you were determined to ignore Luke by any means necessary, even if he stole a pencil and let the class believe that the class was haunted. Thankfully enough, Luke realized that he shouldn’t push your buttons anymore and left you alone. On your walk home you practically wallowed in self-pity and embarrassment and found yourself swallowed in a hole of blankets and pillows watching a movie when you got into your bedroom.
You did not want to go back to school, and you found yourself dreading it more and more with each passing moment. After Luke realized how embarrassed you were the first time, he should've stopped, but he didn’t. Maybe he just liked to torture you and embarrass you in front of all of your peers.
It was a well-established thing that you liked Luke, not that he knew, of course, you knew he didn’t like you back like that. And after today, you struggled to believe he would ever see you as more; it was like he didn’t care about your feelings.
“Y/n, there you are,” Speak of the devil, “I need opinions on these new lyrics-”
“No, Luke. I’m busy.” You snap, eyes keeping on the screen. You hoped that he took the memo and stopped talking and left, but he didn’t, they never do.
Walking towards your bed, Luke sat beside you and grabs the remote that was tucked in between two blankets, holding it up to you, “No you aren’t, you’re only watching a movie. I’m sure you could stop it for two seconds.”
“What if I don’t want to?” You reply sassily, reaching for more popcorn that sat in the small bowl in front of you.
“What’s up with you?” Luke asks, his voice slightly annoyed as he looks at you. He seems confused like he’s completely oblivious to everything that happened today.
“What do you think is up with me?” You ask, finally turning to look at him, e/c eyes meeting the hazel ones you were so fond of.
Luke stares back at you with the same intensity, eyes looking over your blanket-covered figure before realization dawned on his face. Yet, with the realization, annoyance seemed to follow closely behind, “Is this because I embarrassed you in front of your crush?”
“I don’t have a crush on Nick!” Your voice is slightly louder than you had intended, but you don’t bother to apologize anyway.
Maybe you were both overreacting, and you were getting a little too defensive but you couldn’t help it. Luke didn’t seem to listen to you, you had already told him you didn’t like Nick, couldn’t he just listen to you for once in his life?
“Why are you shouting? I’m just asking a question,” Luke says, his voice calm. You had never expected the day where Luke would be the voice of reason between the two of you but here we are.
Eyes looking back up to meet Luke’s, a frown falls onto your face. Sighing, you feel guilt pool in your stomach, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“It’s alright, y/n. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in the first place. I’m really sorry,” You’re pretty sure that’s the first time you have ever heard Luke apologize to anyone, and you’re surprised at how sincere he sounded. Maybe Luke does care about your feelings more than you expected him to.
Soon enough, the calm and comfortable atmosphere you have created in the room because uncomfortable as you both sit in a silence. You don’t know what to say, or what to do but thankfully, Luke saves you from that.
“Listen, I- uh,” Luke hesitates to speak, feeling nervous when your attention is turned back to him. His gaze looks down at the bed before glancing back up, looking very fidgety under your gaze, “I’m sorry for what I did this morning. I don’t know I just seen Nick, and I thought you guys liked each other and I didn’t like it so I embarrassed you in front of him and that’s not okay.”
“You didn’t like it?” You ask with a smirk, quoting what Luke said as your smirk goes a bit wider. Noticing your words, Luke’s eyes go a little bit wider as he starts to stutter but you quickly end his stuttering, “Were you jealous, Patterson?”
It takes him a few moments to respond, your full body turning towards him when you begin to tease him. You had hoped that he was going to get embarrassed in front of you but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 
“Maybe I am, what are you gonna do about it?”
289 notes · View notes
recklessmark · 3 years
Note
I heard ur requests are open 😊 can i get some idol!mark angst wherein he accidentally met with his photographer!ex through a shoot 😊😊😊 pls make me cry 😅😂 thank you for all the wonderful mark ficsss
words count: 1.3k
a/n: i wrote this at 1 in the morning lol i couldn’t sleep and this wasn’t really giving off misery but i hope you like it!
you shove the last piece of your hamburger into your mouth, chewing it aggressively while fasten your steps. you were on your way to have your lunch when the studio suddenly called you for an urgent photoshoot which you have to make an appearance in 20 minutes. your schedule is clear today and thanks to your coworker and his illness, you had mc donald for lunch and couldn’t even enjoy your food thoroughly.
you stop in front of the restroom to throw the piece of trash on your hand into the bin when some voice catches your attention.
no actually it’s a laugh, a very contagious laugh that you’re familiar with.
your eyes widen when you realize who it is, no one other than your most handsome ex ever, mark lee.
if you have a chance to make an index of the most regrettable things you’ve ever done before you die, breaking up with mark will come first.
you wipe your sweating palms on the sides of your jeans when footsteps approach you, along with the sound of him talking echoing into the wall. instantly, you rush into the restroom and close the door, still, remain a tiny gap that you can peek through. people always say that vision is more trustworthy than hearing, you can lie both way, though, it’s a different story. the biggest question you’re currently having on your mind is mark’s presence at the studio. you want to poke your eyes right away when you see his figure passes by through the gap on the door. not every information we adopt from our hearing should be verified by our eyes.
why is he here?!
however you have no time to speculate about the reasons and his purposes as your ringtone blares out of the blue. you hold your breath in and slowly shut the door since mark’s eyes just fly on your direction. hearing footsteps fading away, you sigh and answer your phone.
“what?”
you don’t know who you’re trying to hide from but you’re practically whispering.
“where are you?”
“in the restroom.”
“the shoot starts in five minutes, hurry up.”
“alright.”
you hang up the call and shove your phone back into your pocket. you groan and brush your hair backward. the fact that you’re going to be late doesn’t irritate to as much as how you’re gonna walk around this place without bumping into mark.
being an dramatic overthinker you are, you’re two minutes late on set that you don’t have time to take a look at who you’re working with. you hang the strap of the camera around your neck and idly tap your fingers on the wide desk which is furnished by three computer screens, waiting for the artist.
just as you let out a breath in relief since you didn’t meet mark on your way, the door flings opened, revealing the least person you want to see.
mark lee.
cliché as it sounds but it’s your fate and you can’t pretend to have a seizure and cancel the shoot now, perhaps you can choke yourself.
you notice the astonishment on mark’s face when he sees you either, however he’s quick to cover it. certainly he’s a celebrity, professionalism is prioritized in any scenarios. and that’s what you found yourself struggle with when you were in a relationship with him. he’s too good at hiding his feelings that you couldn’t distinguish whether he’s honest or it’s untruthful. although you knew mark never lied and he was serious with your relationship, you still couldn’t ease the doubt deep inside your mind. it’s your fault that you ruined everything, you broke him completely so whenever you see mark, there’s a pool of guilt bubbling inside your chest.
you glance away and mark scratches the back of his head when the silence is broken by the noises of the staffs as they prepare for the photoshoot.
this is not the first time you worked with mark. nevertheless, his efficiency when it comes to work never fails to impress you. and he never fails to distract you with his dazzling charm either. suave, divine, glorious there’s no such a word that could precisely describe him.
neither of you start a conversation during the shoot, you don’t even know what you’re supposed to discuss about. therefore keeping your mouth shut to avoid any possible stupid utterance is probably the best option.
everything went well, no such incidents happened and you’re extremely satisfied with the results. you take out the memory stick from your camera and connect it with your laptop. while reviewing the images, his face reminds you of the embarrassing memories you wish never happed.
mark had a condensed schedule, he debuted with superm last year and it worsened the situation. with the nature of either your and his career, you didn’t have much time for each other. basically keeping in touch only by messages and calls, occasionally got to see your partner when you had a chance to work with him. no dates, no private time. both of you had to work with a variety of different people, it’s like a competition that who’s more insecure will lose. and your petty insecurities outweighed your faith and trust in mark.
mark was doing everything to keep you, sending you encouraging and reassuring messages, calling you every night and spending time with you even for a second if that’s all he got. but it didn’t stop you and your most-ever stupid decision, breaking up with mark.
you remembered how depressed mark was. he lost weight, his cheekbones became more prominent and he couldn’t focus on anything. you was dazed when you saw mark on a music show with his dark eye bags and tedious face. there was a night he called you, apparently intoxicated. he was just crying, sobbing, telling you how much he loved you and then cried himself to sleep. you were laying on your bed, balling your eyes out and listening to his emotional speech through the speaker of your phone. and when he’s finally asleep, you still didn’t hang up the call, hugging the watermelon squishy he gave you for your birthday and crying your eyes out.
all of a sudden, your phone rings out loud, cutting your memorial flashback. you frown at the strange number, debating whether you should pick up or not. this better not be some creeps messing with you at 10 in the evening. your thumb swipes on the screen and you bring your phone up to your ear.
“hello?”
“y/n...”
“mark?” you ask in confusion, more like confirmation. you don’t reckon it’s someone mimicking his voice.
“yeah.”
your brows furrow tighter, ‘yeah’?, he calls you and says nothing except of your name and yeah...
“what is it mark?”
“nothing. i just miss your voice.”
sir literally saw me two hours ago and chose to keep silent.
“what are you doing?” he asks. you can’t hear anything but nonchalance in his voice.
“uhm...editing your photos.”
your eyes flit on your laptop again, which already go black and you hit your keyboard to activate it again.
“mark...”
“yes?”
“i’m sorry...” you whisper, trying to cover your shaky voice as your eyes watering. you don’t remember when was the last time you got to hear him calling your name.
“for what?” he asks quietly.
“everything.”
there’s a moment of silence before he speaks again, tears run down your cheek. “don’t be, i just hope you’re doing well, can you do it for me?”
you nod furiously and then realize that mark can’t see so you say into the phone instead, “yes i will, you should stay healthy too, don’t stay up late.”
“i know, i’ll see you again alright? goodnight.”
“goodnight.”
you ring off the call and put your phone aside. your hands wipe the tears on your cheeks and your lashes away, staring at the photo displaying in the screen, your vision becomes blurry again.
he’s probably moved on.
you’ve lost him, you’ve lost mark.
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whorecruxriddles · 3 years
Note
first of all your username is A+ pls can I get a story where Tom uses the reader for sex and she lets him because she’s in love with him but after he refuses to date her seriously she ends things with him only for him to realise he’s been in love with her all along and wins her back
thank youuuu, i’m pretty proud of it!
also i loved this request so much, ahhhhhh
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-
It had started out with an innocent kiss when you were fourteen. Your first kiss actually, though it hadn’t been Tom’s. He still made it feel special, told you it had been special.
Now, at sixteen, that stupid kiss had evolved into this; grinding against the wall of Tom’s prefect dormitory, his tongue practically down your throat as his fingers gripped bruises into your skin for what felt like the tenth time this week.
It was exciting, you liked it but something about your rendezvous always felt...hallow. Sure, Tom was always courteous, made sure that you felt safe, taken care of. If you were in his room, he’d even let you use his shower. But you worried that there was never any emotion other than the boy’s unrelenting anger behind it.
Your entire relationship with Tom was built around sneaking around, fucking where nobody would see him with you. He never held your hand or had a proper discussion with you in front of his friends. Everytime he enticed you with the notion of a real date, it ended with you blowing him in the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks or having sex on top of the homework he’d promised to help you with.
He was using you. But you knew that. You just didn’t want to believe it. Not when every beck and call made your heart flutter so.
Tom moved from your lips to your neck, immediately going for the spot just under your ear, knowing how much you liked it. You shivered, sighing a little and when he got the reaction he wanted, he moved on. You became hyper aware of his hand moving up your body, making to feel you up. Something in your stomach suddenly felt knotted and you pushed on his chest.
“Tom, stop.” You whispered, not loud enough for him to hear at first. His hand kept trailing and you caught his wrist, “Tom, stop it.”
This time he pulled away, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. He studied you for a split second, trying to read what was wrong.
“Are you...W-what exactly are we?”
“What are we doing?” Tom repeated, narrowing his eyes at you. He chuckled coolly, “I thought it was rather obvious?”
You shifted under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed that you had asked such a thing. No, that was just Tom trying to put that in your head. You had all the right to ask, “I was just wondering since we’ve been doing, you know, this for a while now and I-I...”
Realization hit the Slytherin, leaving a cruel smirk in it’s wake.
“Do you have feelings for me, (y/n)?”
Oh Merlin, your cheeks felt as though they were on fire and you were resisting the urge to cry. When you didn’t answer, Tom leaned down, his lips nearly touching your ear, “Love is a weakness, my silly girl. People die for love. I have no intention of dying.”
Rolling your eyes, you squirmed out of his grip, shoving him away. Grabbing your school bag and house tie off his desk, you headed for the door but now before turning on your heels to glare at him.
“Then I don’t want to be your little doll anymore, Tom. Just leave me alone.”
And with that, you left, slamming the door behind you. You strutted past two of Riddle’s goons, Avery and Lestrange, who no doubt had been trying to listen in on your make out session with Tom. Both of their mouths were open, as if they hadn’t been expecting you to leave the one and only Tom Riddle high and dry, but you simply turned your nose up at them.
You didn’t even let anyone see you cry until you were back in your own room.
-
Three weeks had past since you broke things off with Tom. You were trying your best to avoid him at all costs, but that was difficult when it seemed that everyone was always pointing him out to you. Of course, for Tom, who specialized in coldness and cruelty, ignoring you had come easier than Charms class.
You just wanted some fresh air. You didn’t want to be around other people, not even your friends, lovely as they were. They kept trying to fix everything for you, handling you like you were fragile. Well, you weren’t. It was impossible to be Tom Riddle’s fuckbunny for three years and be easily breakable.
Eventually, you’d managed to find a spot to be alone. A nice patch of leaves underneath a tree that looked out across the Black Lake. It was cozy, peaceful even, albeit not the most comfortable. But it was quiet and lonely, just what you needed.
An unexpected crunching of leaves nearly made you drop the textbook you’d been pouring over. You looked over, expecting to come face to face with a curious animal but instead found Tom sitting beside you, blankly starring at the dark water of the lake. Sighing, you set your book down and leaned back against the tree, following his gaze.
After several long minutes of silence, Tom reached over and, for the first time ever, slipped his hand into your’s. You tensed as his fingers looped through your own, resting over your knuckles. Despite the shock, you didn’t feel the need to pull away but rather the urge to resist leaning your head on his shoulder.
“I didn’t realize that it’s easier to fall asleep when there’s another person next to you.”
You didn’t respond, you didn’t even look over. Tom continued in a nonchalant, monotone voice,
“You aren’t as much of a weakness as I thought you were-”
“I’m not interested in being wooed back into being your personal mattress, Riddle.”
Now you graced him with your acknowledgement, shooting him the coldest, most piercing glare you could muster. You were certain that you saw him flinch and his eyes moved from the lake to his lap.
“I’m not trying to have sex with you, (y/n), just hear me out.” He gritted, looking over to you with a pleading expression you’d never seen before, “I...I care about you in a way that I don’t really quite understand. I like being around you, I get frustrated when I can’t see you. You make me want to do better, to be better.”
Instinctively, your hand started to mirror his grasp.
“I was going to have Rosier deliver a flower to you but then Avery made some wisecrack about me going soft for you and I just...” Tom’s hold on your hand tightened and a look of anger flashed across his face, his jaw ticking, “I hate how they talk about you. How they make comments about your body and ask me if they can have a turn with you, only for them to ridicule me for letting you spend the night.”
“Oh.” Was all you could think to say, your brain frantically trying to process all the information Tom was pouring on you. He scooted closer to you, so his knee was brushing against your’s.
“They acted as though my...affection for you somehow makes me weaker, less respectable. Truthfully, (y/n), I let myself buy into it because you...you humble me, as it were.” He explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “But they were wrong, of course they’re wrong, they’re idiots. You’re the only person I’ve ever met that understands me, that talks to me without acting like I’m a child or like a blithering oof. You make me stronger and I don’t particularly care who knows it.”
So this was Tom Riddle for ‘I’m sorry’. You weren’t sure how to react. There was such a stark contrast between the Tom you’d last spoke to and the one that sat before you now. There was more humanity in this one, in the gentleness of his touch, the softness of his eyes and the sincerity of his words. There was still all the pride, but with none of the icy harshness.
“Tom, I care about you too. I just need to know that you can show me that you care about me beyond just sex. I don’t want to be used anymore.” You whispered firmly, turning more towards him. He nodded slowly, bringing the hand not holding your’s up to cup your cheek.
“Whatever you wish for, I’ll give you. Affirmations, time, the moon. Anything.”
“All I want is you, Tom.”
Without another word, he leaned down and kissed you with an unfamiliar tenderness. It wasn’t like the hundreds of hungry kisses you shared before, it was more like that very first kiss from when you were fourteen. Innocent and sweet, unsure but confident.
You weren’t entirely convinced that Tom wasn’t still trying to use you, but if he was putting up an act this good, you figured you might as well enjoy the show.
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animatedarchives · 4 years
Note
Can I request an imagine where midoriya cheats on the reader and bakugo finds her crying in the halls and is there for her and they grow a romantic relationship? Lots of angst and fluff pls! Thank u!
author’s note: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! i love soft katsuki and i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted but i hope you like it!! <3
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TRUST FALL
— 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈
genre: angst at first, fluff at the end :>
warnings: mentions of cheating
word count: 1.2k words
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“Izuku… Why?”
“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”
“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”
“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”
“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”
You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.
Why? Why did you leave me?
The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.
You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.
Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-
“Oi.”
Crap.
“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”
You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.
“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.
“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.
You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.
Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.
After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.
“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.
Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.
“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”
“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”
Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.
“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”
“But Deku-”
“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.
Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.
You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.
“I do.”
Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.
“What?” you asked.
He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.
“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”
You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.
“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.
“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.
Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.
“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”
You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.
“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”
Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.
“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.
“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.
“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.
“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.
He groaned loudly.
“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.
Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.
But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.
“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.
Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.
And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.
He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.
“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.
“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”
He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.
The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…
It was sincere.
Genuine.
Honest.
You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but slowly willing to give love another try.
Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.
“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.
You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.
“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone.
You.
“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”
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© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.
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