#sorry for the rant. but i saw this multiple times in my notes today and i'm going to start blocking people

[jonathanbiers]

so we all know i exist out of spite right? it is my main motivator

anyway from now on every time i reblog something to do with edancy or hellcheer or ANY ship with eddie and a character that is a woman and one of my followers says something weird and frankly kinda icky about it i'm going to add one sentence to the edancy pegging fic i thought up today. just out of spite

#like if you don't like the idea of a ship that's FINE don't reblog it #i can't imagine how frustrated someone might get after spending hours on fanart to share for a ship they love to see people saying #shit like ''love this but platonic only of course'' or ''not sure i like these two as a ship but ...'' #you can hc your favorite character as gay all you want but not everyone will share your opinion!!! and just bc your ship is more #prevalent that doesn't give you some ownership over the character to decide what they are when they don't have a canon sexuality #just say you don't want him shipped with nancy or chrissy or WHOEVER because you're a misogynist bc that's how u sound #sorry for the rant. but i saw this multiple times in my notes today and i'm going to start blocking people

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

omfg i'm sorry to rant but i NEED a sympathetic person to hear this. i like the every single album podcast more than most swifties, but today's ep -- and the last few -- are driving me insane. i am so fucking sick of hearing nathan and nora wring their hands over what joe might deal with. all harassment is bad, but i am done pretending that jake g and john mayer went through….any kind of wringer? they had like...a semi-awkward couple of weeks? jake is still a mega a-lister and john mayer is widely considered to be one of the greatest living guitarists. fuck, what mayer did was outright predatory -- and he's done it to multiple women -- and lbr, he lives 99% of his life totally unperturbed by it. he's not losing gigs or status in the places that matter to him; i suspect a lot of swifties aren't aware of this but i'm a guitar nerd, and uh, yeah, he's considered a living god and no one gives a shit what he did to taylor. and literally everyone woman in the public eye, including taylor, goes through worse every single fucking day, even at their heights of popularity. i don't know how to deal with hearing nathan and nora worry about :(((( omg what will joe go through :((((( when he's never going to have disgusting ai porn of himself explode across twitter on a random weekday. maybe i feel this strongly b/c i work in games, where hordes of male fans regularly ruin random women's lives because they animated a female character wearing a t-shirt instead of a string bikini, but i can't deal with this anymore. these men are fine. lots of people get mad at them, but it's because they did truly shitty things to her and she refused to absorb it silently. then it breaks, and their lives go on.

---

I feel like Nora really articulated what Anon was trying to say the other day about along the gist of "I hope something really bad happened to justify all of this." Interesting perspectives! Btw I just want to be super clear that I don't think Taylor or anyone has to justify anything like that! Just thought it was interesting how Nora put it in the latest episode and T's power is the unusual part of this equation.

---

In a very classic "I thought the two of you should meet!" re: today's The Ringer / Every Single Album pod episode.

I will say I read both of these messages before listening to the episode myself and tbh I think Nora ultimately landed in a pretty middle and reasonable place (it started out pretty rocky though) by the end of the episode. My understanding is she ultimately felt like Taylor has every right to tell the story that she wants / needs to tell and the work will speak for itself. That this is Taylor going face to face with the elephant in the room and (probably - we don't know obviously) not obfuscating the reality that we all saw play out in real time behind 'fictionalized' half truths roleplayed by semi-imaginary characters. And at the end of the day the (likely - AGAIN WE DON'T KNOW) reality is that she's prepared to walk through the narrative that is this pressure cooker storyline many are waiting with baited breath for which is the deterioration of her most significant relationship to date.

All that to say is that I think both of these points are incredibly valid. I personally have a lot of feelings wrapped up in it that do tend to come down more on the side of it's strange that the default position is this desire to sign up as first in line defence attorney for a man when the crime as we know it is 'woman writes her life into art'.

Nora interestingly noted that there's a "pressure for this album to come with receipts" (paraphrase) based on this (fan) hyped up narrative of something sinister having gone awry that this album will pull the curtain back on. And if it fails to do that, enter said self-appointed attorneys.

#opinion #tss nanonsense

[bugshine-and-raincloud]

My best friend hasn't messaged me all day and I feel,, angry?... Upset?... Idk, not good... They've been kind of getting on my nerves the last few days...

They texted me Monday saying it was our last day to play games together before they went back to work, so I got up out of bed and did everything I needed to do so we could play together... Then they said they were dealing with an issue and to hold, so I said okay and waited...

Over an hour later they said their cats messed up their switch charger so they had to go buy a new one and their switch was charging now... I said okay again and waited, assuming they'd just message me when their switch finished charging so we could play...

3 hours later they messaged "rain 😭", to which I responded "Yes?..." They never replied /neg...

Yesterday I got up and saw they sent me a Minecraft invitation an hour prior to me getting up, they hadn't messaged me so I didn't know... They were offline when I saw it, so I messaged them... A very short convo of "hey" and "hru?", they didn't reply to my "wyd?" until 6 HOURS LATER /srs /neg...

And it's like, maybe they were busy, right?... No, I saw them online on Instagram and the PS4 multiple times, and they even changed their Instagram note to ask if anyone wanted to play GTA with them... Like, it's fine if they didn't want to play together, but why not reply to my message??...

When they finally replied they said they were getting ready for work, I said rip, they didn't reply to that...

So today I decided not to message them first to see if they'd message me first... As I stated at the start of this post, they did not message me...

It just hurts, I feel like they don't really want to talk to me... And this isn't the first time this has happened, very far from it... But they call me their best friend and I,, I struggle to believe that when they can go the entire day without talking to me...

Damn, that feels extremely self centered when I type it out lmao... Which should surprise no one, but damn... Maybe I'm just overreacting??... Probably... Sorry for the long rant post, I just definitely can't vent about this on Insta...🌌

#rain rambles #rain rants #vent post

[suchalonelysunflower]

Tell Me What You’re Thinking (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Fem! Reader

Summary: You overhear something you shouldn’t hear. But Calum will make it right, won’t he?

Warnings: ANGST. Language (including insults), mentions of alcohol, drugs and cheating. MC with low self esteem. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4 k

Author’s Note: hi I’m back with the angsty shit. This is very self indulgent, and I put Mitchy as a bad guy here, so sorry if you like him? Reblogs, Commets, Feedback and likes are very welcomed and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

You sighed as you finished your last paper. It was finals week and you were officially done with your exams and term papers for the semester. The last couple of weeks were rough and no one knew that more than you and your boyfriend Calum who has been by your side through this whole stressing process.

You smiled to yourself as you remembered the encouraging words that Calum often said to you. He knew how hard you worked in school and at your part time job in a law firm, and you appreciated how much he cared for you in times of stress and frustrations. Always cheering you up from the bleechers as you made a name for yourself.

Calum promised that once you were done with school for the semester, he was going to take you out on a well deserved Holiday, just the two of you and Duke as you celebrated another six months worth of work done. Everything was already planned for the next weekend and you couldn’t wait.

You reread your final essay one more time and decided that it was enough for today and if there were any mistakes left, then you’ll deal with them tomorrow. Now the only thing in your mind was a cozy blanket and a feel good movie. But first, you needed to get some food and drinks for your mini celebratory self care session.

The thought of asking Calum to come join you crossed your mind, but you quickly remembered that tonight was boys night. Every couple of weeks Calum and his friends have a little night out to catch up and decompress all of the stress of the week. Tonight was Calum’s turn to host boys night as they decided to have a quiet night in, so they must be having a good time downstairs and you didn’t want to ruin the mood.

With that thought in mind, you carefully placed your laptop on Calum’s side of the bed and carefully untangled your legs from under the covers so you wouldn't wake up Duke, who snuggled with you every time you had to work to keep you company. You put on one of Calum’s hoodies and headed downstairs trying your best to not make any sound.

Before you even reached the last step of the stairs, you could already hear your boyfriend’s laugh and it made your heart flutter. Even after almost three years of being together, his laugh still gives you butterflies every time you hear it, falling even more in love than what is possible.

Once you were in the kitchen, you started looking into the cupboards as you searched for your favorite snacks, but in the end you were unable to find any, thinking that maybe Calum has hidden them somewhere on the top shelves where he knows you can’t reach.

Letting out a small huff, you debated with yourself the option of climbing up the counter or admitting defeat and go ask your boyfriend for some help. Luckily, you didn’t have to decide as you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite scholar” Said Ashton with a light chuckle “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be out tonight since it’s boys night”

You smiled as you let him wrap his arms around you to give you a hug. Ashton was the first friend you made when you moved to LA a couple of years back, he was the one who introduced you to Calum in the first place, and you were very thankful for having him as a best friend.

“I had to finish up some term papers, so I had to reschedule my girl’s night for tomorrow” You explained to the black haired man “And what are you doing here? Need a refill?” You ask, pointing to the empty glass he was holding.

Ashton nodded, “Yeah, but I also needed a time out. Mitchy is kinda being very obnoxious today” He said with a sigh.

Mitchy Collins was a close friend with the boys for many years now, but you can’t say that he is a friend of yours. It’s not like you haven’t tried to befriend the singer, on the contrary, you both had multiple chances to get to know each other but he either ignored you or made things very awkward between you. And, to be honest, you were not that excited to become his friend either. There was something weird about him, a bad vibe per se, that made you not trust him at all. He was always very loud, obnoxious and downright rude sometimes and it made you very uncomfortable. Both Calum and Ashton knew about your uneasiness with Mitchy, so they didn’t push it too far and you were thankful for that.

“Oh?” You asked, trying to mask your discomfort “What is he saying this time?”

“Just a bunch of bullshit, to be honest. He is very high right now and thinks he’s above everyone else” Ashton said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. You did the same as you offered him a glass of water.

“Are you high right now?” You chuckled.

“Nope. Calum and I decided to stay clean tonight cause tomorrow we start early in the studio and the weed kinda messes up our pipes” He explains.

“What about Luke and Mikey?”

“They are not here yet, they said they needed to finish up something for a song and then they will meet us here” Ashton shrugged, not giving it too much importance “And what about you, darling? How was your day?”

You began to tell Ashton about how you finally finished the semester and how excited you were for your little getaway with Calum next week. However, every couple of minutes you were interrupted by a loud laugh or an obnoxious comment coming from the living room where the rest of the boys were sitting. Sometimes their loud comments started loud conversations that neither of you could help but overhear, but you did your best to ignore them. But some things are easier said than done.

“I’m telling you man! You can do so much better” You heard Mitchy’s voice echoing through the house, followed by a chuckle from Calum who mumbled something among the lines of “Fuck off”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stopped the conversation you had with Ashton in order to pay attention to what was being said down the hall. You looked at Ash with a confused face, wondering what they could be saying but at the same time not knowing if you should continue listening to their private affairs. You were about to open up your mouth to continue what you were saying until another comment made by Mitchy caught your attention.

“You have to admit she is the worst sometimes. All she does is boss you around like you are some kind of puppet. She is the definition of annoying”

You sat up straight as you looked at Ashton, who mirrored your puzzled expression.

“Is- is he talking about me?” You asked in a whisper.

Ashton shook his head “I don’t thi-”

“I swear! What does she even do besides work and study all the time? She barely has time for you. You said it yourself! And when she’s not doing any of those things? She’s nagging around and clinging to you like you’re a damn purse! That’s who Y/N is”

You froze in the spot. So they were talking about you… and did Calum really say you don’t have time for him? You don’t even get time to yourself and he knows that! He said he was okay with it, that he understood and supported you through and through… Guess not.

“I still don’t know what you saw in her, dude. She’s just plain boring, playing to be a good girl when in reality she has zero personality” He continued his rant “She does nothing for you! Honestly! I’m surprised you made it this far with that bitch”

You knew that wasn’t true. He never really made an effort to get to know you! how could he be saying all those stuff? You did everything for Calum, all your goals, your plans are for the both of you. How could he know that if he never really talked to you? But you had to admit that that first comment really hurt. You were always doubting yourself at the beginning of your relationship with Calum, always feeling like you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, or smart or fun or hot… To fight off those kinds of feelings was a difficult job to say the least, but Calum was always there to fight them with you, reassuring you that he loved you. He loved every part of you and he will love you forever.

“Is she at least a decent fuck? Cause I don’t see her doing anything remotely interesting in bed” Mitchy laughed “If she’s not she’s just wasting your time”

You noticed how Ashton suddenly stiffened next to you when he heard Mitchy’s comments. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fists at the side of his body “Okay, that’s enough” But you were quicker, grabbing onto his shirt as a sign to make him stay there with you and not cause a scene.

His eyes found yours and you could see the anger build up on them, you knew that he would defend you no matter what and you loved him for that. But you knew Calum would defend you over there, he wouldn't let him talk about you that way.

“Ash, please” You pleaded, tugging on his shirt for him to take a seat again. But he preferred to stay standing next to you, almost like guarding and shielding you from any other comment that might hurt your feelings.

“I can’t let him talk about you like that!” He hissed. But you just shook your head.

“I know, Ash. I know. But Cal will handle it” You said confidently, trying to keep yourself together.

You knew Calum would not let those comments slide. Even if you weren’t in the room with him, those comments were awful and very hurtful, no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by someone as close as a friend of his.

You waited for his intervention, but your heart crushed when the only thing you heard from him were laughs.

“She’s a good fuck” That’s all he said.

The grip you had on Ashton’s shirt suddenly flattered as you fought the lump in your throat “Y-you said he wasn’t high” You whispered to Ashton, who was just as frozen as you were after hearing his best mate’s comment.

“He’s not” He said, standing tall next to you. As much as he wanted to go in there and give the guys an earful, he knew you needed him here with you.

Out of all the things Mitchy has said, out of all the insults and belitments, that’s what he says? That you’re a good fuck?

You knew that you could be annoying sometimes when you got happy. You just wanted to share that happiness with everyone around you and you thought… you thought that Calum liked that. You were not a bad girlfriend, you always tried your best to make him as happy as he makes you; to love him as much as he loves you, cause he loves you. Doesn’t he?

If he loves you then why is he letting his friend say all of this stuff about you? Why is he not saying anything? Does- does he agree with him?

The tears started rolling silently, half of you not believing what you were hearing while the other half clang to the idea of Calum defending you at some point.

“Oh I know!” Said Mitchy after a while “I can introduce you to someone! Right now, actually. Her name’s Vanessa and she’s crazy hot, dude”

He can’t be serious.

Ashton looked at you with pleading, furious eyes. Almost begging you to go and let him deal with them. But you grabbed his hand and made him stay. This has to be it. This has to be the chance for Calum to say something.

“You’re kidding right?” The curly haired man asked. Making you let out a breath of relief.

“Not at all! Think about it. We go, you meet her, you fuck her and done!” He said like it was nothing “Y/N will never find out cause she’s stuck up her ass. Your fans will never know or they won’t care cause they don’t even know you are in a ”relationship” to begin with! You are single to their eyes. And you get a decent fuck from someone who looks the part and knows how to have fun! It’s a win - win!”

Your heart stopped as you waited for Calum to answer. To tell Mitchy to go fuck himself. To tell him that he loves you and would never do that to you.

“I don’t know, man. I’ll think about it” Calum shrugged “Plus, if we go out I’ll have to tell Y/N. She’s upstairs finishing some shit for her university”

“Fucking hell… see! I told you! A stuck up bitch” Mitchy said, making Calum laugh.

But their laughs and the rest of the conversation grew numb to your ears. Your body trembled as the tears came flooding in, holding in the sobs that were tearing up your throat. How could he? He was really thinking of cheating on you.

You could feel every little piece of your heart shattered as you search for some kind of leverage that could hold you still so you don’t fall and break. You felt ill, disgusted and heartbroken.

As you tried to get up, you felt your knees buckle and almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for Ashton holding you up. He was still there and you knew by the look in his eyes that he was not going anywhere.

He was just as disgusted and angry as you. He couldn’t believe all the things that were said tonight, all the things that Calum failed to make it right and hurt you in the process. He knew that if he were in that room that the conversation would’ve died the moment it started. He would never let them talk about you that way.

“I-I can’t-“ You cried, moments away from hyperventilating “I can’t stay here, Ash”

He nodded, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head for reassurance “Go upstairs, love. Grab your stuff and we’re getting out of here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?” Ashton let go of you and started walking towards the living room where the rest of the guys were still talking.

“Ash” You called, making him turn around “D-don’t make a scene, please”

He sighed as he muttered a quiet “okay” before turning around, leaving you alone as you went upstairs to grab the bare necessities to spend the night, you’ll figure out the rest later. Right now you just needed to get out of here.

You opened the bedroom door and almost collapsed at the entrance. Duke came running towards you, sensing that there was something wrong as he started to whine and tried to jump into your arms. That only made you cry harder as you realized that you were leaving him too. You fell to the floor and patted the puppy as he tried to wipe off your tears with his tongue, breaking your heart even more.

A loud voice cut you out of your thoughts. You could hear Ashton yelling, although you couldn’t exactly figure out what he was saying. This meant that Calum knew you heard everything and that, if he had at least some decency left in him, he would come and get you. You needed to act fast.

You stood up and grabbed the first big bag that you could find. Inside of it you threw your laptop, your books, your charger, some clothes and some bathroom essentials. You debated on whether or not to take with you a picture of you, Calum and Duke… it was your favorite memory with them. But the damage was stronger than the nostalgia, so you threw that picture to the ground before you left the room that once belonged to you.

You were running down the stairs when you passed Calum running up them. You ignored him as he stopped in his tracks and followed you to the hall.

“Y/N!” He said, desperate to try and stop you “Y/N, baby, please! Hear me out!”

“Hear what?! I already heard enough!” You said as you turned around.

Calum’s face was almost unrecognizable. The fear in his eyes, the desperation in his voice and his close off body language was not something you’d normally see in him. The “I fucked up” expression showed all the regret in the world, yet you didn’t seem to care at the moment.

“I. Heard. All of it, Calum” You cried through gritted teeth, anger boiling inside of you as you stared at the man you thought you’d marry “All of it and not once did I hear you say something to try and defend me. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“Baby-“ He tried, but you cut him off.

“I work my ass off all day and night for you, for us. For me to go and see you on tour like you ask me to, knowing damn well I would go to the ends of this fucking earth for you! Catching up extra classes and shifts so I can go with you. I cancel everything to be with you. I gave up everything for us to be together. I barely even have time for myself as I try my best to be something worthy of you!” Your tears were staining your face, but you pushed away the pain for a moment, knowing that once you break down it’s over “I try my best to be a good girlfriend, a good friend! I loved you with all my heart and this is what I get after almost three years? A good fuck? That 's it?”

Calum’s world fell to the floor as he tried hard to fight off the lump in his throat, whispering in a broken voice “Loved?”

“That’s all you get from it?” You ask defeated “Calum I would’ve never let my friends call you names, insult you or offend you in any way. I would’ve gone to the ends of the world for you, defended you till the day I die. All because I trusted you to do the same for me and you failed me, Calum. You broke me. You let him call me a bitch, a stuck up, worthless, stupid, bossy, annoying… should I go on? Cause those words are now printed in my memory, next to you agreeing to all of those things. Is that what you think of me?”

“Baby, I swear it’s not like that!” He said, grabbing your hand and trying to make you stay “I fucked up! I know! You are right, I failed you and you don’t know how much I hate myself for it! But please, love. You know I could never think of you like that… you are the most wonderful person there is! You are kind, smart, loving, beautiful-“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask bluntly.

“What?”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No!” Calum said instantly “No, I would never!”

You nodded “Yet, you thought of it.”

Calum opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off again “Is that why you never made our relationship public? So you could have a free pass whenever you want to? Cause I thought it was to protect our privacy, for us to have a normal life in the midst of the chaos that is to date a celebrity. When you told all of that I thought “wow, this is a guy with integrity and with values” Yet I don’t know what to believe now. I thought you loved me-“

“I do love you-“

“I thought you loved me” You said, the tears were already dry as the anger came flooding in “But you don’t hurt the people you love. You don’t break them like you did to me. You don’t let anyone hurt them, even if they are not in the room with you. And you don’t cheat on them like you were going to tonight with that girl Vanessa while I waited here like an idiot for you to come home and spend some time with me”

You pull your hand out of his grasp, holding onto your bag as you heard Calum cry “Y/N-“

“You are free to do whatever you want now, Calum. Cause to the eyes of your fans you are single, and I am as well”

You turned around and saw Ashton waiting by the door with his keys in his hand. He opened up the door for you as you walked by, ignoring all of Calum’s pleads for you to stay.

“So you are just going to leave?!” He yelled, not knowing what else to do. “Whe- Where are you taking her Ashton?”

The black haired man made sure that you were already sitting in his car before turning around to face his friend “I’m taking here with me and away from you cause that’s what she needs now. So don’t bother calling or showing up cause you are not welcome right now. And don’t even try to call Luke or Michael cause they already know and we won’t support you on this” Ashton said as calm as he could. He already told him off, but the anger of seeing you cry in front of him still resided in him.

“I- I love her , Ash! You can’t just take her away from me. I’m her boyfriend!”

“Correction, you were her boyfriend. And I can take her away and I will cause she asked me to” He said taking an intimidating step closer to Calum “Cause while you were here talking trash about her behind her back, planning on how to cheat on her. I was back there, holding her while she broke down crying cause she couldn’t believe that her boyfriend didn’t stand up for her and let a fucking stranger insult her all night long! You weren’t there to see her eyes water or her lip tremble. You weren’t there when she begged me with tears in her eyes to not make a scene cause all she wanted to do was to get out of here. She is the most amazing person ever, she is a light in all of our lives and you extinguished her without a second thought. You might be my friend, but she is too and I love her and I will defend her no matter what, she doesn’t deserve this kind of crap you just showed to her. So don’t count on me to try and help you get her back, I won’t blame her if she doesn’t”

Calum felt small as Ashton walked away from him, closing the door with a bang and leaving him all alone in his big house. Well, almost.

“Dude, that was intense” Mitchy laughed as he placed a hand on Calum’s shoulder “So, wanna go now?”

A blind rage fell over Calum as he heard the mocking laughs of his so-called friend, acting like his life just didn’t fall apart in front of him.

Calum grabbed the singer by the neck of his shirt and pushed him forcefully against the wall “You are going to get out of my house and never come back. You hear me?!” He yelled to his face, almost letting out steam from his nostrils as he was sure he could kill him right now.

“Dude, what’s wrong with yo-“

Calum quickly grabbed a bottle from his nearby mini bar, suddenly gaining all the courage he should’ve had hours ago, and throwed it to Mitchy’s feet, making him jump “Get the fuck out!” He yelled, grabbing bottle after bottle, glass after glass and throwing them into the ground “OUT!”

Only when the last bottle was smashed into pieces did he realize he was completely alone.

And only then did he allow himself to cry for the loss of the love of his life, walking away from him and leaving him to pick up the pieces of two broken hearts.

part 2

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @talksoprettyjjx @mystic-232

#calum hood #5 seconds of summer #5sos #calum hood angst #calum hood fanfiction #calum fic #calum hood imagine #suchalonelysunflower #fanfic #calum imagine #calum 5sos #calum 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum x reader #Calum hood x reader #calum x you #calum hood 5sos #calum hood 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5SOS fic #5SOS angst #5SOS fam #calum rec

[liquid-luck-00]

Meeting for the First Time

Bio!Dad Bruce

So here is my first contribution to the Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020, 

Day 1: Meeting for the First Time

@biodad-bruce-month

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay granted noting seemed to ever go Marinette’s way. But this was the ultimate punch in the gut the universe could send her.

It started off as a normal Friday, 8 months since the liar came back to school. 8 months since she threatened to pull everyone, she cared about from her and leave her alone. Well 6 month ago Lila’s threat came true. Today she simply walked into class and ignore the cruel stares and watched as feet would pop out to trip her. Well she made it to her desk in one piece and that was a plus.

She was pulling out her tablet and then she heard and felt something slam onto her desk. It was a binder nearly exploding with paper’s and behind it was none other than Alya. “Hey Girl” she started trying to keep her voice friendly, but the repulsion was evident in her voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favor” she gave Marinette a strained smile and when she didn’t answer continued “Can you help me plan Lila’s sweet 16 as a way to make up for bullying her.”

Marinette was beginning to become livid, her best friend, scratch that her EX- best friend, is asking her to plan a bully’s and a Liar’s party. No, oh Kwamii No she will not be doing that. She was about to say so when Miss Bustier walked in holding several envelopes.

“Please take a seat” Miss Bustier said and that was when Mari moved the binder as far from her as possible. “Today I have the results of the genetic testing we sent a while ago.” Everyone was beginning to murmur excitedly. Mari could only shrink into her seat. She was dreading this for multiple reasons. “Marinette would you please?”

Mari stood up and walked to her teacher took the envelopes and passed them out to the designated person. She kept hers and slipped it into her bag as soon as she got back to her seat.

She knew what it would say. She knew that it would not have what her ‘friends’ would think. It would only prove as Lila would claim that she was not actually wanted and that she was bullying her because she was loved, and Mari wasn’t. Luckily, no one noticed her as they were too excited with their own results. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang that the dreaded moment came.

“So, Mari what were your results.” Adrien asked, once upon a time she would have gushed at him talking to her but now her crush was nothing but a pile of ashes in the wind.

“I don’t know” She replied as she picked up her bag and began to head out of the class.

“Wait you didn’t look at it” Adrien practically yelled and that got the class’s attention. He was giving her a frown and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even look.

“Why would you not look at your result Marinette?” Lila spoke in a sickly-sweet voice. “Are you ashamed that you have someone you want to hide from the class?” everyone began to murmur and was beginning to give her skeptical glares. As if she would attack them, almost no one noticed how Kim and Nino came around to block the door.

Mari was beginning to grow frustrated that they would not let her leave and that they continued to glare at her like a criminal. She had enough. “I WAS ADOPTED!!!” that made everyone go quiet and stared at her. “I was adopted when I was a couple of moths old and I have NO intention on knowing my biological family” she turned, and Nino and Kim were shocked that she simply slipped passed them and went home.

However, she knew who her biological father was. Well that isn’t the entire truth, she found out she was adopted when she was 10 years old. Her Biological father reached out stating he didn’t know until recently that he had a child. He wanted to get to know her and be a part of her life. However, Mari was stubborn, Tom and Sabine were her parents, so she told him she didn’t want to meet. Surprise though he was stubborn as well, he gave Mari his number and to call or message him even if it were to complain about him or anything at all. This had surprised her, and she did. She texted her father with things she didn’t feel she could tell her parents.

For the past 5 years she had told him about school, or mistakes she had made, and about her passion in fashion. He always seemed to listen and just let her rant. It was good for her. When she became ladybug, she was excited to tell him about the heroes of Paris. He sometimes never answered but she saw that he read them and that was comforting.

He became someone outside of Paris who helped anchor her. He would send her gifts for her birthday and messaged her when he could, and he really did help her though most of what was going on at school. She only knew him as Father, no name attached and that was fine. That was why she didn’t want to open the letter. She didn’t want a name to the person who cares for her as Marinette.

She went to the bakery and climbed the stairs knowing that it would be quiet. Her parents were taking a trip abroad for their anniversary along with her Nonna and that left her alone. “Tikki?” the little goddess floated up to her. “Should… should I… should I look at the names?” Mari wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know but she also knew that she possibly would like to know.

“Mari the choice is yours but know that no one not even your father will think less of you if you never want to know.” Tikki really is always sure and can always make her feel better. Mari simply nodded went to get something to eat and stared at the letter she pulled out. As she finished her lunch and washed her plate, she turned to the letter with determination she opened it and read. Her Mother was blank, meaning that she probably hasn’t put her information on any site, but does say that she is of European decent. Then she looked at her father, he had a photo, black hair, and the same bluebell eyes. He was dressed in a suit and she looked at the name, Bruce Wayne. Next to her own photo was the photo of boy with tanned skin, black hair, and emerald green eyes, the name next to it was Damian Wayne. So, she had a brother, he looked close to her age, maybe he was the reason why her father contacted her years ago. Her father was also from European decent but that was about it. She’ll look into it more after school she dropped the envelope off in her room and left to go back.

She went back to class and sat in her seat before the bell rang so she was the first person back into the classroom. She kept her head down and didn’t look up from the sketch she was working on, she heard the whispers and caught a few glances at her, but she ignored them.

“Mari?” oh Kwamii why does he have to talk now again. She looked up and his expression softened into a small smile or more like a frown. “Do you…” he rubbed his neck. At this point everyone was staring between the two completely silent. “Do you want to talk about it?”

At this she scoffed “Why?” she was confused at this they wouldn’t talk to her unless it was to yell at her so why should she be vulnerable for them.

Alix spoke up “Why do you bother asking her anyways Adrien?” she snarked throwing Mari a glare. Adrien looked sheepish, and that was when Lila struck.

“Well if she puts it out in the open, she wouldn’t bully me, since we can help her. Make her feel loved since her parents didn’t want her” she spoke calmly and sweetly, and everyone nodded and agreed.

“Tell us Mari, you can trust us girl” Alya spoke from the class.

“Now why...” Mari was cut off as Miss Bustier entered to start the class. However, not even 10 minutes into the class the door opened. A man in a suit holding a folder came into the room.

“Miss Bustier” he asked, and the teacher nodded, so he continued. “I am sorry to disturb the class, but I need to speak with Miss Dupain-Cheng”

The teacher nodded and called “Marinette” gesturing towards the door. But of course, nothing was ever simple in this class.

“Sir if you need Marinette then you should also take Lila” Alya spoke up.

The man simply looked confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Marinette is bullying Lila so if you need Mari you need Lila as well” she huffed proud of her logic.

“I am sorry, but I really only need Miss Dupain-Cheng”

“Well whatever you need to say to her you can tell all of us”

Now the man looked exasperated and he turned towards the teacher. She nodded “It is for the best whatever you need to tell Marinette you can tell the class.” She stated.

He huffed and walked up the stairs to Marinette. “I am so very sorry for your loss Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you would please come with me, you are needed to verify the bodies.” This left the class in a quiet shock. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Mari was wide eyed filled with tears ready to fall and was numb. She didn’t hear when everyone began to speak at once demanding answers of the man. And now Mari could tell he was mad. “Really I do not need to answer your questions as this matter only pertains to Miss Dupain-Cheng, this should have been done in private, so you” he pointed at Miss Bustier “will most likely be getting a call as soon as I will report this.” This shut up the class and he helped her up and walked her out.

Identifying the bodies was a blur in her mind, she was told they died as a riot stormed the airport on their way home. She was asked if she had anywhere to go “can you please give me a moment?” she spoke weakly and the woman who was in charge of her smiled and left her in the room. Thank the Kwamii that Hawkmoth had been inactive lately, so she was able to cry and mourn. She needed to tell someone anyone, but those she loved were gone and now what was she going to do. Tikki popped her head out of the bag and patted her leg. That was when she saw her phone, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. She got to the name Bio! Dad and pressed the call.

It rang a few times before he picked up. “Marinette is everything okay you don’t usually call?” she started to cry, and this put worry into his voice. “Mari sweetie what’s wrong. Deep breaths with me 1 in, hold 2, out 3. Again.” He repeated this until she was no longer gasping for breath.

“Maman, Papa, and Nonna died” she couldn’t keep strong anymore “please, please don’t leave me too.”

“I won’t Mari” his voice was the softest she had ever heard from him “I’ll be on the first plane over. I won’t leave you I promise” he hung up and she was finally starting to feel lighter. The woman from before came back.

“Are you okay sweetie?” she gave her a smile.

“I think I will be?” she gave a small smile.

“That call must have helped” Mari nodded in acceptance to the statement. “Who was it?”

“My Father, he is coming for me” the woman looked at her as if she grew another head. “My biological father. My maman, papa, and nonna that died were my adoptive family.” At that the woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a hug. “they were my family but…”

“Sweetie you don’t have to always be strong its okay to be sad.” She began to cry again. She was dropped off at the bakery by Officer Raincomprix, who gave her a sad smile and then left. Mari fell asleep in her parents’ room, Tikki curled up next to her.

She woke up the next morning and opened the Bakery, allowed in the staff, and went back to the apartment. Afterwards she went back up and curled up in her parents’ bed, but a notification on her phone made her stir again.

Bio!Dad: I’m in Paris where do you want me to meet you Mari?

Mari: The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Bio!Dad: I’ll be there soon I promise.

Not long after a staff member knocked on the door, she recognized the voice. “Someone is here to see you”

“Mari can I come in?” she heard Bruce and that prompted her to open the door. She didn’t care that she looked like a mess, as soon as the door opened, she hugged him and started to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hrs. He murmured reassurances to her and led her to the couch.

---

If anyone had told him that he was going to rush onto a plane because of the daughter he has never met in person called him crying, he would not have given you any kind of reaction. But here he is on a jet headed to Paris to meet and comfort his daughter, after her parent’s death. Yikes that is a lot to handle.

The only positive to all this is that he left discreetly enough that he wasn’t tailed by the boys. And that was a relief, if Mari had to meet him for the first time that alone was one thing but meeting Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian would probably send the child over the edge. That is considering the fact that she actually deals with and processes emotions like a human and not like a bat.

He hadn’t even finished checking into his hotel and he was restless he knew that Mari needed him and if Bruce was anything, he was overprotective of his family. And right now, one of his family was hurt and he had to do something. He texted her and she told him to go to a bakery.

Well if she said to go to a Bakery then he went to a Bakery. He stepped in and looked around before going up to the counter.

“Excuse me Miss?” he stated towards a Girl no older than Twenty behind the counter placing pastries into the case.

“Hello, how can I assist you today?” she smiled.

“I am here to speak with Marinette.”

“Ah. Your first time here right.” He nodded his head. “That girl always forgets. Follow me” he was confused but followed the young woman through the kitchen and to a small hallway and up a flight of stairs. Where she knocked on a door. There was shuffling on the other side “Someone is here to see you” she plainly stated, and footsteps were heard near the door but just shy of opening it.

“Mari can I come in?” his question was tentative but even he was surprised by the softness of his voice.

The door swung open and there she stood. Oh, she was adorable. Her black hair was in a messy bun and had blue highlights that emphasized her bluebell eyes, which were red and puffy from her crying. She fell into him into a hug and she was so small, he had to protect her from everything. The worker left and he moved the two of them to the couch.

After a couple of hours, he got the full story and to say he was pissed was an understatement. First there was the teacher and how they had handled the situation was awful, but besides that he wanted Mari safe, but he had to know what she wanted instead of making the decisions for her. He learned the hard way with his boys.

Next

#bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b ! dbwm2020 #maribat #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #class salt #unsure adrien #bio!dad bruce wayne

[gallickingun]

stardust in our bones {constellations on our skin} || i.m.

SUMMARY: Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain, his masterpieces hung in the form of scars and freckled skin. Sometimes he is overwhelmed by the very public display of his failures, unable to be dismissed even from far away. But you are always there to remind him that even if he is a little damaged, he will always be beautiful in your eyes. And maybe he can come to learn that his scars are but reminders that even if you break, you are not broken. 

This is essentially a few different scenes/scenarios all rolled into one fic about Izuku’s freckles and scars. I hope you love it!

PAIRING: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: mentions of blood, language, smut, dom/sub scenes, scars, mild violence mention, breeding kink, daddy kink, etc. WORD COUNT: 28.4k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is in the replies of this post! message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the labor of love that i have produced for my other half @freckledoriya ♡ i hope that this meets your expectations, as it is probably one of the only midoriya fics i will ever write lol. katsuki baby i am so sorry also big shoutout to @k-atsukidayo for making this beautiful header image for me and always reminding me that i’m not as garbage as i think i am ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

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Some call him disfigured or discolored.

They focus much too heavily on the outer turmoil taking its toll on his skin instead of the implications of what is happening within his body – the struggle in seeing himself this way and coming to terms with all that he has lost, marked on his body forever in the form of scars.

Marred flesh, crooked knuckles, gnarled bones.

He relives his trauma every time he looks in a mirror, another cut turned to pinkened scar, another use of his quirk marking his body permanently with a plethora of the color red. He wonders for a moment if he will ever feel whole again, or if he will always see himself as this patchwork thing that the universe toys with by ripping apart just to sew it back together again.

Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain.

And yet, despite all his physical fallacies, you still find him beautiful.

You watched on in horror as his body took on the tolls of being a hero throughout his time at Yuuei. You were but a young, quirkless teenager, begging for a hero who reminded you of what hope used to taste like. Now, after All Might’s demise, your tongue turns sour and anything that might have resembled hope burns to ash in your mouth.

Then Izuku Midoriya became a Pro Hero at the very agency you’ve been working at and you felt that familiar warmth of hope starting to take root in your chest, driving out that darkness that settled once the world lost All Might.

Deku is kind, much kinder than the average man. Or hero, for that matter.

He stops by your desk at least once a week, with either coffee or something sweet, in addition to his paperwork. He’ll chat with you, leaning over your counter with those sparkling emerald eyes, and you start to realize you can get lost in him. He is a gentle reprieve from your otherwise mundane day.

And in the beginning, you saw sun-kissed skin littered with a dark sprinkling of freckles, like little constellations burned into him by the sun. His cheeks are like the expanse of the night sky and you wonder to yourself when he leans in close if you might could find some stars you recognize.

As you grow closer, minutes turned into hours turned into lunch outings, you realize that you truly misjudged how deep his scars run.

They are not just on the surface, but rather cutting deep into his soul until he is marked at the very essence, clouded eyes ever present when he recounts a tale that brought forth yet another scar. You want to reach out and brush his cheeks, but you must restrain yourself because he is a Pro Hero and you are but an office manager, quirkless and insignificant to him.

You busy yourself with memorizing the patterns on his face and neck. You allow your mind to wander from time to time, trailing your gaze down to his exposed collarbones or torso, depending on how rough a mission might leave his suit. When it’s torn at the thighs, you can’t help but to see the smattering of pale freckles against his otherwise tanned skin.

Izuku is kind, you remind yourself as he approaches you with paperwork tucked into his side. There is no other explanation for his long, drawn out talks at your desk, or the flowers currently adorning your countertop.

“Hey, sorry,” he unfurls the bundled package of papers and lays them flat on your desk, “this week has been insane, lots’a villains on the loose. Which I guess just means more paperwork for everyone, huh?”

You chuckle at him, thumbing through the first few sheets to make sure he’s got it all in order. There really is no doubt in your mind that it’s all laid out exactly how it should, that’s just how Deku is, but you want him stationary at your desk for a little while longer, so you check it anyway.

“And more bruises for you heroes,” you smile, tilting your head upward so you can catch the glint in his eyes. “How are you today?”

Midoriya begins to rattle off a long string of muttered words while you check the paperwork. You don’t mind that you can’t necessarily understand everything he’s saying, just to hear the sound of his voice is enough to satiate you for the rest of the day. You smile and nod when you think you should, the smell of the flowers on your desk more intoxicating now that he’s here.

“-I, well, you see, I guess that since I saved their shop, they said I could have unlimited meals, and I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go?”

You bite your lip, reigning yourself in because of course he just wants to go out for lunch. There’s nothing more to it. You have been to lunch with him several times, extended breaks thanks to both his hero status and your extra hours you work here and there.

“Sure,” you answer, “we can go over the new manual, I have a few-”

“No.”

You cock your head, brow furrowing, “B-But -I”

Deku shakes his head, green curls bobbing against his forehead, his undercut even more obvious now, “N-No, I mean, I want to go, but like, I want you to go with me.”

“I would be-”

“Without the paperwork.”

“Oh.”

The two of you share a look for longer than necessary and now the flowers’ perfume grows stronger, almost sickeningly sweet as your stomach flips. You rack your brain for the words to say, but each syllable dies on your tongue, sparking against a taste bud. You want to pinch yourself to ground your mind into this version of reality where Deku wants to go on a date with you is the current situation, but you can’t move, frozen in place by his expectant stare.

It must take you too long to respond because Izuku launches into another muttering rant, apologizing profusely as he blushes from head to toe. Your lips tug into a smile at the sight of his freckles against his reddened skin, and that little break from your psychotic prison allows you to reach forward and grasp him by the hand.

Deku’s jaw snaps shut, eyes widened as he looks down at you, gaze piercing through you as if he had slung a spear through your soul. He’s got a hold on you, he has since the day you first met, but now you know that he’s had you hook, line, and sinker and there was no way you could ever come up for air.

Not that you’d want to.

“I’d love to,” you tell him, voice soft.

His smile matches your own and he squeezes your fingers, the scars on his hands rigid against his otherwise smooth skin, “It’s a date.”

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As time passed, the bruised ribs and shattered bones multiple. The Pro Hero, Deku, is well-known for his gnarled hand, knuckles swollen, and scars carved into his body like veins in a slab of marble. He finds you after each mission, wrapped in gauze and taped back together, and you are the one left to mend the untouchable pieces of him once the surgeons have done all that they can for the surface wounds.

“You should be more careful,” you warn him, hands reaching for his face to palm over his cheeks in worry.

Midoriya laughs, but it is cut short by a wince as he grabs for his rib cage. You lurch forward to steady his frame, but it is of no use, his palm already outstretched to keep you at bay. The frown on your face only deepens at his motions, your brow furrowing together to wrinkle the skin of your forehead.

“I’m fine,” he reassures you once he can stand up right to his full height again, “thank you, for coming and picking me up.”

The pads of your hands find his face again, thumbs pressed into his cheeks, fingerprints grazing over the speckled skin. It’s as if you’re counting them to make sure that none of them have been wiped away from the last time you saw him; like you could keep track of them like inventory if you tried hard enough. The furrow in your brow tells him that he hasn’t done a good enough job at reassuring you, so he steps closer, a knee between your thighs, “I promise I’m okay. They patched me up! All better now.”

All better now.

The words seem shallow, like they can’t possibly touch all of the broken pieces between the two of you. Every time he bares his soul on the battlefield, he comes away changed, a different person than you last saw. He won’t show the world, but at least he will show you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is cutting, patience wearing thin, jaw quivering under the sheer force of the bite of your teeth, “And what about the next time, when they can’t fix you?”

Deku does not have an answer for you then, the question weighing between the two of you like the world caught between your shoulders. At least the answer he can think up is not one that he wants you to hear, let alone one you might take in stride.

Instead of trying to babble on about the efficiencies of agency surgeons and statistics and whatnot, he takes you by the wrists, circling his fingers around your pounding pulse. A gentle laugh bubbles in his chest and it makes you forget about the pain he has to be in for but a mere moment as he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m a hero,” Izuku answers, voice grating against his throat as his eyes bore into you like he’s telling you some enormous secret you must keep to yourself, “and the hero always wins. No matter what.”

As much as your bleeding, apologetic heart wants to believe him, to lap up every word that he’s spewing to you like syrup, your mind can’t quite agree. You’ve spent too many late nights lying awake, wondering when you’ll get the call that he has fallen prey to a villain’s decaying touch, or when he will have been captured and tortured to the brink of insanity, a shell of the man he used to be all that’s left when they find him. Every horror story has played out on the back of your eyelids when you fall asleep, and yet you know there will never be anything you can do to put him back in the little box you first found him in, to protect him and keep him safe.

You push all of those thoughts away, knowing that they will only dampen your spirit for now, and you’d much rather focus on his darling freckled face while you take your afternoon walk. He insists, despite his injuries, that he won’t miss an afternoon walk with you. And it appears that he’s healing even as more time passes, the lingering effects of Recovery Girl’s quirk in combination with quirk-laced drugs mending his body after he’s left the operating room.

Taking in the sight before you – this beautiful, Adonis-like man, with golden cheeks and an innocent sheen in his glittering green irises – you’re overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, so you charge forward and do just that. Your hands find his neck, searching for the hairline lightning strike scars that litter his body from past injuries and fights.

Unbeknownst to him, you keep your eyes open so you can watch as his translucent lids flutter, orbs moving beneath the skin as he’s unsure of what part of you in his imagination to settle on. This way you’re able to see as the apples of his cheeks slowly start to burn deeper shades of red to match his ears and neck.

As you pull away, falling back onto your heels, you drink him in as the light glimmers down on his skin, making him look almost golden in the afternoon sunshine. There is a string connected to your heart that tugs whenever you see the man standing before you, and now is no exception.

“C’mon,” you slot your knuckles between his, tenderly brushing your thumb over the large expanse of scar tissue on the back of his palm, “let’s go.”

Izuku pulls you closer and it’s like another piece of him has fallen into place, your body slotting just right against his side, like you were made for each other. One to match the other, a balance to end all imbalances.

A complete set.

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The knock on your door makes you jump, shuddering beneath your fleece blanket.

You rub your eyes and stand to your feet, leaving the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It’s late, so you imagine it’s most likely just a package delivery.

You’re beyond surprised to see a bleeding Izuku Midoriya slumped forward, using his forearm to hold himself steady in your doorway. You gasp, your blanket dropping away from your shoulders to pool at your feet, launching yourself forward to catch him before he can topple to the ground.

“Izuku,” you gasp, tucking yourself beneath him so he can use you for support.

He laughs, but it turns into a wheezing string of coughs. You help him hobble through the threshold towards the kitchen, sitting him down close to the sink so you can clean him up. Tilting his head back, you look into his eyes and pray that they dilate. When his pupils shrink, you let loose a breath held captive in your lungs.

It’s hard not to think about the reality that this will add another scar to his tally. His whole body seems like a counter, really, with strikes and slashes marring his skin, turning it pink and keeping track of every battle.

Midoriya reaches up to cradle your face in his palm, fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of your cheeks, directly contrasted with his own rough complexion, “I needed to see you.”

“No,” you shake your head and squat down in front of him, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as you try to take in every part of him that’s bleeding, “you need to see a doctor!”

Before you can protest him any further, Izuku leans forward to crush your mouth beneath his own. He whimpers in pain as he kisses you, but it doesn’t stop him. In fact, it almost stirs him forward, spurring him to cup your face with his hands as tears track down to cut through the crimson lines on his cheeks.

Izuku Midoriya is nothing short of an enigma. Here he is, bruised and bleeding, but he wrought his way to find you despite all of the pain. You wish you could burden some of it on his behalf, taking up the mantle of his own personal Atlas, meant to shoulder the weight of his existence so he can catch a quick breath.

His forehead touches yours as he pulls away, a sobbing gasp parting his mouth, “I’ll be fine. I just need you.”

You brush his hair away from his eyes, forcing him to look at you with the tender turn of your wrist. His right eye is bruised and swelling itself shut, blood caked from his brow to his jaw, pouring steadily from the wound he’s got split open on his head.

The only thought running through your mind, creating a path of worn ground against your cerebrum, is that this will be but another one to add to the collection; another piece of art to hang in his mausoleum. Judging by the amount of blood caked in his hair and brow, and the depth of the wound, it will surely leave a tattered scar of flesh behind.

An errant thought crosses your mind then – will he have such painful memories of this specific wound? Or will he recall this one to be the scar that brought him back to you?

You can’t help it when your lower lip trembles. You can never be surprised at the story of this scar’s origin – it will be engrained in your mind forever. Despite your adoration for the hero, you share in his pain, your own body wincing as a new trickle of crimson stains his temple. You tense your jaw, the muscles in your neck quivering under the strain of your ministrations. Even if he remembers this night fondly, you know that every time you glance at the healed section of his body, you’ll remember his tears, his debilitating pain.

“I’m calling Toshinori,” you grit your teeth, steeling your will, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I let him know I was coming.” Izuku inhales in short bursts; it’s all his chest can handle before splintering pain streaks through his lungs like lightning. He winces as he shifts, one hand drifting to your hip. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric of your top, a shirt he recognizes as his own based on the size of it as it fully engulfs your figure. His logo is on the center, bright green text in stark contrast to the dark grey fabric.

A wave of pride swells within him, starting at the base of his back and building upward like effervescent champagne bubbles floating to the surface. He opens his mouth to set them free in the form of smothering kisses, his lips traveling to every available expanse of your skin he can find.

Deku is a force of nature, a whirlwind you cannot reckon with, so instead you succumb to him.

You allow him to swallow you whole for the first time, diving deeper into the eye of his storm until he is swirling around you and suffocating you. But you do not care. If this is how you have to go, with his tongue holding you hostage, hands like anchors on your hips, dragging you deeper until all you know is the darkness, then you are fine with that.

You’d gladly drown as long as he was the one holding you down.

But Izuku Midoriya is not the dark. He is anything but.

So, instead of burning your breath with his own oxygen, he fills you to the brim with light. He is a sunbeam incarnate, pushing through every crack in your bones to cement them with his kindness. His fingers, while biting into your hips, send a singing sensation up into your skin until you can’t help but smile into his kiss. They are rough with tattered flesh, scars of the past and present plaguing his body like a parasite, eating away at his skin until no longer has anything left to give.

Deku doesn’t wince when you sink down on top of him, settling your body against his thighs. Instead he wraps his arms around you to give you some kind of solace, palms searching your shoulders for the perfect place to rest. His fingers are warm beneath your shirt as his fingers seek out the curve of your spine.

The pure thickness of his body is not lost on you, not now. ­Your hands travel over his shoulders, his muscles rippling beneath the pads of your fingers. You shiver when he holds you closer, your chest flush with his, the tactile pleasure from his rough skin making your toes curl.

His shoulders are riddled with tiny, slicing scars, a light pink color in contrast to his standard tanned skin. You look for scar after scar, appreciating the damaged parts of him just as much as the smooth ones. You moan when both of his hands squeeze your waist, the pure size of him a gentle reminder as his palms engulf your ribs, his knuckles counting the bones as he runs his hands up and down.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs as he disconnects his mouth from yours, tears settled in his irises, making them glassy, “the villain I-I fought, th-they had a canceling quirk, and they almost got me.”

You know that got me is the safer, calmer equivalent of killed me. His kindness oozes like honey into every facet of him, filling the cracks like veins of marble. Your heart squeezes within your chest at the reality that he could have been lost to you, and suddenly the wounds on his body matter a little less.

No, now it is all about having him here, dense and hot beneath your body. Your fingertips tremble at the thought of him being a ghost of the past, something you once had a hold of, but now is nothing but a memory. You feel hot tears drip over your lashes, clumping up at the base of your eyelids as they flow freely. You sniffle, your hands finding the back of his head to cradle tenderly.

Izuku’s voice is soft, his cheeks gleaming red as he admits his next words, “You were all I could think about.”

Your voice breaks with a sob and you hold him tight around the neck, surging forward to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Izuku wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you snugly as he tilts his head for a better angle. You relish in the warmth he provides, his solid presence giving you comfort as you try to drink him in, pushing aside all the thoughts of potentially never having him like this again.

It’s not even about the way your stomach turns as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, or how hot your body grows as he engulfs you like a flame. No, it is something beautiful and pristine, something that curls around your spine and bolsters it, holding you upright with confidence. Izuku has given you something you haven’t had in so long that you almost can’t put a name to it.

Peace.

There is an undeniable calm that washes over you whenever he is around, whether it be by distance or severe closeness. He suffocates you in his light no matter how far away he is; purely by knowing that he is alive, your heart quiets in your chest. You feel safer as you walk down the streets, the very notion that he will always be there, watching from wherever he may be, builds your bones stronger so you can walk with confidence.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” you gasp, coming up for air. You don’t go far, your nose nudging over his cheek as you pant quickly, your chest heaving. “I-I can’t do this without you.”

“Hey,” Deku’s voice is calm, his palms reaching up the back of your shoulders to cover you entirely in his heat. All you want is to coat yourself in him from top to bottom, let him claim you however he needs to, so you never have to let this go. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You open your eyes as he nudges his nose over the bow of your lips, kissing your chin tenderly. Your pupils dilate as you take in the smattering of dark freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, painting his skin erratically so that you know he must be a work of art, a gift from the gods down to mankind. He is too perfect to be anything else.

Your forehead drops as you let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself with your grip on his shoulders. “I-I know, I just…”

Izuku repositions his hands so they’re beneath your top, the warm pads of his fingertips leaving a blazing trail of fire behind as he maps out the curves of your body. You watch as his ripped costume falls in tattered shreds on his shoulders, giving way to the pretty expanse of skin usually hidden beneath it.

The sight of his flayed skin, coated in scars and painted with beauty marks, makes your spine rattle within your frame. Your fingers drift to the bared parts of his body on instinct, a primal need settling in the pit of your stomach, and you trace over the white, lightning-like scars. Your thumb brushes over his collarbone, as if you could sweep away his freckles to leave behind unmarked skin.

Your mind wanders, thoughts branching out to wonder if there even is a patch of his skin that is pure, unmarred by any form of markings.

Izuku must follow your train of thought, because he peels his hands away from your body to tug his costume at the waist, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor before he pulls his shirt over his head, or what remains of it. The tattered fabric is in a bloody, dirty heap on the floor, but you barely have the wherewithal to notice when he is bared in front of you.

A gasp parts your mouth when you take in his nude torso. He is a plethora of contours and shadows, sinew holding his muscles together in a taut fashion. Your hands are hovering in front of his chest, darkened nipples piqued under the cool air blowing from the vent above. You have to force yourself to swallow, pent-up tension making your throat bob.

“See?” Izuku’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s holding himself back from tears, “I’m right here.”

Your eyes try to find a part of him that isn’t doused in speckles, the darkened patches of skin making him look even tanner. He has them sprinkled all over his body, clumps of them gathering together like tiny nebulas. Your gaze slowly drags down from his collarbones to his abdomen, the freckled dots like destinations on a treasure map, leading you to one central location.

When you make eye contact with the trail of dark hair that starts at his navel, thin and then growing thicker, you feel your stomach turn over. You lick your drying lips, a heat beginning to build up in your core. You would clench your thighs together, but the way you’re straddling him currently makes that impossible. Instead, you roll your hips forward so you can scoot further up his lap.

It’s like you don’t believe what you see in front of you – that he’s truly here, open and bare in front of you, vulnerable in every sense of the word. The wound on his head has stopped bleeding, but that doesn’t mean that he’s okay.

“Touch me.”

You tilt your head, confused by his forward command. Your cheeks burn bright with a blush and he chuckles at the sight of you so flustered. Midoriya takes you by the hands, guiding your touch to his chest first.

The tips of your fingers blaze when they find a ragged scar that stretches across the entirety of his pectoral, “I have so many of these ugly things.”

“How many?” you find yourself asking, the filter hard to find when he has you about ready to come undone like this. You feel yourself go lightheaded, hazy at the feel of his rough skin, his heart beating irregularly beneath your touch.

His voice is heavy when he answers, “I lost count.”

Your eyes snap upward to find the usual playful green color of his irises has faded to a pale jade shade, “Izu, hey-”

Deku swallows an emotional lump in his throat, eyelids fluttering at the pain of it before he inhales a full breath. His chest brushes up against yours and you have to withhold the whine that desperately wants to slip from your lips.

“I don’t understand why people are so fascinated with them,” his tone is teetering on the wrong side of angry, lips curled in a downward snarl. He glances south at the rest of his body, pale scars in stark contrast to the rest of his tanned body. “They’re just reminders of my failure.”

You are forceful when you pull his jaw upward, yanking him to face you before you kiss him harshly. Your intense kiss makes him gasp, his hips rolling up into you despite the pain he’s in. Your palms are bruising on his cheeks, but you don’t care because at least he’s kissing you. Deku’s fingertips finally make their way to your hips where he seeks purchase against your ribcage. His digits are tantalizing as he roams the expanse of your midsection.

“You’re my hero,” your voice is breathless and broken when you release him for oxygen. “Don’t you ever call yourself a failure again.”

Izuku’s throat bobs as he basks in your ferocity – eyes ablaze and fingertips harsh as you hold him in place. He finds himself nodding without really knowing what you’ve said, but he supposes that’s just the effect you have on him. You have taken root in his soul, the galaxy in your eyes blacking out everything else in his mind, allowing him not even a moment to let self-doubt creep in and steal away his faith.

After all, in his eyes, you are his whole world, shattered stars and all.

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“You picked dinner, so I get to pick the movie,” you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, your palms splayed against his chest as you press kisses into his shoulder blades.

You’re obsessed with his back, like some little secret you don’t get to see very often. Tonight the two of you were doing yoga before you ate dinner, so he’s currently clad in only a pair of compression pants that reach his mid-calf, leaving his entire upper body for you to appreciate with your gaze and explorative touches.

You nose over the curve of his spine, kisses open-mouthed as he washes the dishes in the sink. You hear his breath hitch and you wonder if now is a good time to start experimenting with how far you can go. Your eyes roam to the base of his spine, the two small dimples at the start of the swell of his ass making your mouth salivate. You relinquish one hand from his chest to dip your thumb into the cavity his muscles have created, brushing against a cluster of freckles.

It has been some time since you’ve seen him with his shirt off, and many times since then, but you’ve never been able to discover what’s below his belt. Your mind wanders as you suppress the itch in the base of your fingerprints, like the very code of you is designed to strip him down to nothing. You want to know how far his freckles truly go.

In your mind, you believe that he is sprinkled with stardust, paler patches of freckles sporadically placed along his body. He is a canvas, fresh and ready for the constellations to burn into his flesh. You want to swirl your hands over the galaxies imprinted upon him by the gods themselves; as if he were made of marble, ready to carve and curate however they may please.

You take a leap of faith when you dip your fingertips beneath the tight waistband of his joggers. The aborted stutter of his hips combined with the sharp intake of breath from his throat tells you all you need to know.

From here you can see clusters of freckles on the globes of his ass, concentrated mostly near the top, where sunlight can penetrate when he’s not in his hero suit. You have to catch yourself before you drip drool onto his curved backside.

The hand on his chest roams until you find his pebbled nipple, the crevices of your palm washing over the flesh until you hear a muted moan shake his throat. You lean forward, forehead tucked between the cartilage of his shoulder blades so you can feel the heat radiating from him even closer now.

“Can I-”

“Please.”

You’ve never heard him beg before, at least not like this.

It has been some time since your first date, since the first kiss, since the first confession. Your hands start to sweat at the thought of touching his salacious side, pricking with anticipation as you slowly make your way around his hip towards the bulge in his pants. Your tongue stills within your throat as you brush your thumb against the thick tufts of dark green hair at the base of his stomach beneath his navel.

His body is like a roadmap leading you to one desolate place, his skin singing with heat as you grow closer. You can almost make out a whine that he’s clamped his teeth down on to suppress, but that does nothing to deter you from finding a dozen other ways to elicit an infinite number of those same prurient sounds from his lungs.

When the outside of your palm brushes against the throbbing thickness held tight within his spandex, you feel your whole-body tense. Izuku gulps audibly and you have to hold in something that is a mix of a gasp and a giggle.

You reach your free hand down from his chest to pull at the band of his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. You can hear the bob of it against his stomach and you let out a heated breath that spills down over his spine. He shivers and you think that maybe you have him just as captivated as he usually has you.

The thought is thrilling. It bolsters your confidence and allows you the audacity to lean forward and slowly trail your fingers along the base of his cock, tickling him in the most tentative way possible. He grits his teeth and you can feel his buttocks clench in front of you as he tries his hardest not to buck forward and ruin your moment.

You kiss the smattering of freckles near the top of his right shoulder, lavishing the area with your tongue as you trail your thumb up the base of his cock until you reach the tip. You can feel the bead of pre-come beneath the print of your finger and you collect it with the ridges of your digit before dragging it downward to coat him before you begin to pump your hand.

He is thick in your hand, unforgivingly hard as his cock pulses within your grasp. You can tell that it’s taking all of his restraint not to throw his head back and release obscene sounds from his throat, like his desire is caged within his chest, begging to be let out with each erratic heartbeat.

Your tongue licks over his shoulders and you know that he must be imagining what your mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock based on the mewling whimpers that leave his tongue. You can hear him panting, but you want to see him, desperate and whining, so you tug on his waistline with your free palm.

It takes him a moment, his eyes glistening with bliss and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, but you manage to get him turned so he’s facing you. Your eyes drag slowly down the entire expanse of his torso, catching on his pert nipples, bright and pink as they shrink beneath the stinging touch of your fingertips. You catch onto the constellations of freckles drifting along his torso – if you look hard enough, you swear that they move. Your eyes cross when you look too closely, so instead you allow your attention to drop lower.

Izuku’s mouth is wide open as your eyes fall to the vee of his hips, the paler freckles placed there making you smile. You lower yourself to your knees, semi-uncomfortable thanks to the tile of the kitchen, but you don’t care. Right now, your focus is singled in on one thing and one thing alone.

You lick your lips and the closeness of your tongue to his cock makes Izuku blush in expectancy. There is a little line of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth if you blink your eyes free of lust. You pump him another time in your hand, collecting the new wash of pre from his tip to lubricate his cock. As you do so, your eyes drift to the base of him where his green pubic hair collects in a dark tuft. You can’t decide which part of him to focus on because it’s all too much.

Somehow, he has a scar that runs from the innermost part of his thigh upward, just beneath his balls. You wince at the thought of what had to have caused that, and how much it hurt. You allow one hand to drift over the scar as your eyes come into contact with the patch of freckles hidden beneath the trail of dark, coarse hair that is usually hidden by his clothing.

As you pump your hand down to the base of him, you use your thumb to brush some of the hair away, curious as to how dark the freckles are there. Izuku is completely maddened by your touch, fallen under the enchantment of your hands. He doesn’t even mind that you’ve taken a break from dragging your soft hand around his dick, his mind already blitzed from the short burst of ministrations you have already administered.

You hum as you kiss along the taut skin of his lower abdomen, dragging your lips and tongue towards the thick trail of hair that leads you to his cock. It’s almost like the freckled areas taste different, although you’ve probably made all of that up in your mind. And yet, you don’t mind that it’s more of a fantasy instead of a reality, relishing in the sweetness, nonetheless.

“Fuck,” you hear from above you, one of his hands hung in midair, unsure of whether to grab you or the counter. The other palm grips into his hair and the scalp, tugging to keep himself grounded so he does not float away at the gentle caress of your tongue against his skin.

The bow of your lips purses as you kiss upward to the head of his cock, bright red and teeming with pre-come. The silvery, pearlescent bud of arousal makes your mouth water and you find that you can’t help yourself as you encircle your lips around the tip of him.

Izuku is immediately broken from whatever resilience he was able to gather, his hips bucking forward as he slams both hands into the counter. Little broken bits of marble fall into your hair but you don’t care, instead indulging yourself in watching his reaction to your movements. Midoriya’s pupils are blown wide, completely taken over his usually wide irises. The green bleeds black, lust like a cloud misting in his line of sight.

As his upper body tenses, you’re able to see every contour of muscle, every cord of sinew, and you can’t help it when drool dribbles down your chin onto the tile floor. You moan against the head of his cock, taking another inch of him in as you slide forward to get more comfortable. The sound of his nails creaking against the countertop makes your cunt flutter from within the cotton of your panties, clenching around nothing as you imagine the thickness of him in your mouth against your glutinous walls, squeezing him for all the come he can produce.

You trail one hand around the curling scars on his thigh, thumbprint finding the ridges of the expansive scar, the raised skin making your heart ache for a moment before you refocus on his dick. Your eyes almost cross as you try to focus on the freckles now hidden once more by the thick green hair at the bottom of his belly.

As you retreat backward, your line of sight continues down the length of his cock to realize that he has a littering of freckles of varying shapes, sizes, and colors, scattered all along the entire shaft of his dick, and even a few on the tip. You can’t help it when you smile, licking at them as if they could be removed if you lapped at the skin harshly enough.

It is the small things such as this that make your time with Izuku Midoriya so enjoyable. You are learning something about him every day, something even more interesting and exciting than the last.

Before you can slip your lips further down his length, his hand reaches up to clean the debris from your hair, a broken apology parting his lips momentarily. You look up at him, the tenderness in his touch making your heart go soft.

“H-Holy,” his hips buck forward when you blink up at him, the base of his throat bobbing as he curses, “shit.”

As you pull away from his cock, Izuku’s chest shudders as he tries to regulate his breathing. He shifts his feet on the tile beneath you trying to keep himself from pushing up onto the balls of his toes so he can keep some semblance of control as you pleasure him.

Izuku turns away from you and you whine, your tongue licking the underside of his cockhead before you ask, “Why won’t you look at me?”

He can barely force the words out of his throat as he gazes down at you briefly, the sounds coming forth berated and bedraggled, as if he’d dragged barbed wire across the syllables, “I can’t, damn it. I-I’m gonna-”

You take advantage of the line of sight he has on you, opening your mouth wide and taking him in one fell sucking motion.

Midoriya chokes on his own drool, a little silvery string of it falling in midair until it creates a droplet on the crown of your head. He can’t even find the focus to apologize, his knuckles white as he grips the countertop to keep himself sane.

The word he squeaks out next makes you smile, your teeth grazing his dick: “-come.”

You take it as a challenge, gripping his thighs with your nails, digging crescent moons into his pretty tan skin, adding the shapes to his star-like freckled skin, creating a whole galaxy with a simple bruising touch. Izuku can’t help it as his hips stutter forward, the tip of his cock bucking into the back of your mouth to make you gag.

He’s not sure how you do it, with his cock jammed all the way into the back of your throat, but somehow you have the wherewithal to cup his balls in one hand as the other uses his leg like an anchor to stay hovering on your toes. You never cease to amaze him, even now as you’re on your knees and worshipping his cock like your life might depend on it.

“Touch me,” you whimper as you come up for air, “if you won’t look at me, touch me, please.”

Izuku licks his lips and barely has it in him to pull his hand from the counter, but somehow, he manages it. His hand threads through your locks, fingertips buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline and desire. The lust has his whole being singing with anticipation as you bring him to the precipice of arousal. He knows that he won’t last much longer, especially not with you drooling around his cock and bobbing your head in perfect rhythm. And now that he can feel you beneath his fingers, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to speak coherently when this is all over with.

His hands are exploratory in your hair, dipping in and out of your tresses like waves, finding your scalp to scratch lightly, eliciting a husky moan from your throat. The vibrations of your sounds make his cock pulse, twitching against your tongue as you suck him deeper. Izuku isn’t sure how there is anymore of your throat for him to fuck, but when you hollow out your cheeks, he slides further in, and the pleasure starts to coil around the base of his spine as he’s worked towards his high.

“Baby, I-I’m close,” Izuku manages to blurt when he’s coherent enough, your tongue sweeping down the vein on the underside of his dick. He gasps for breath, his head hanging forward, so his dark curls sweep over his lashes to hide his pretty orbs from you. He grunts, as he ruts up into you, “Real close, hell.”

You take it as a challenge, stiffening your posture so you can force your head up and down, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto your pants, but you don’t care. The way his hands grip into your scalp and the quivering of his thighs as he holds off his own release are but a war cry for you, begging your body to go further, to force that release from within his body.

“Come for me, Izu,” you whimper against his cock, the words muffled by the thick skin of him. You try your best to pout, looking innocent with eyes blown wide, “Please, I wanna taste you. So bad.”

His jaw falls slack, and you know that he’s close, his tip is practically rock hard against your teeth. You hollow out your cheeks and moan as you slowly suck him as hard as you can manage with your jaw starting to ache from the stretch of him. Your pussy clamps around nothing, begging for his girth within your walls.

A few heaving breaths stretch his chest, the muscles of his pectorals rippling in strain as he tries to hold himself back, to respectfully come undone instead of sputtering out like a teenager. You nod with his cock still in your mouth, your tongue padding over the sensitive underside. A wuthering whimper breaks within his throat and you feel his thighs clench one final time before he’s coming apart between your cheeks.

You try to breathe through your nose, his cock buried all the way in your mouth so his come hits in spurts against the back of your throat. You use your hands dug into the plush flesh of his ass to steady yourself, his body uncaring to the pain as long as he’s bucking up into your mouth. His hand in your hair goes tight before falling slack, gentle fingertips wafting through your tresses aimlessly.

You tilt your head back as he begins to soften within your lips, trying to keep his come from dribbling out the corners of your mouth. You catch most of it, the slightly sweet taste of it helping it to go down smoother. You suck him one more time, trying to pull the rest of the arousal from his slit, and a high-pitched whine breaks through the calm of the air like shattering glass.

“S-Sorry,” he moans as his eyes screw shut, one of his palms latching onto the countertop again.

A content laugh turns your lips upward and you kiss the head of his cock before he helps you rise back to your feet. Before you’re upright again, he bolsters forward to kiss you square on the lips. His tongue delves between your teeth, mapping out the curves of your gums as he tastes his spend in each crevice of your mouth.

The moan that reverberates from his chest makes your toes curl, your hands curling to fists against his chest as he presses further into you, trying to be flush with your entire body. You can barely breath as he suffocates you lovingly, bringing stars into your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands spread out over the plane of his chest, the tips of your fingers searching for his scars, the placement of them burnt into your mind like a map.

Deku pulls away with a panting string of apologies mixed with appreciation, his irises overtaking his pupils now that he’s come down from his high. His hands search your face and then your arms, taking in every inch of you as he kisses all over your face.

You giggle, wrapping your fingers around his neck to play with the sharp hair at the nape of his neck, the undercut style making his locks dense and coarse up to his ears where the straight line runs.

“What movie do you want to watch?” you ask breathlessly, scrunching your nose as he kisses the tip of it.

Izuku is winded when he nudges his nose against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t fucking care.”

You roll your lips together, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss his mouth chastely, “We might have to do that more often if I’m going to get whatever I want each time.”

The thought of you going down on him makes his heart stutter within the cage of his ribs, stars spread out and blinding against the backs of his lids. He can already imagine the sight of you on your knees, your lips around him as you moan and writhe while he holds your hair tight within his fist…

“Earth to Izuku?” you pat his cheek playfully. “You with us?”

His voice is stuttered as he answers you, a blissful glassiness still coating his irises, “Y-Yeah, I’m right here. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

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“C’mon, Princess, you can take it, I know you can,” he murmurs into midair, voice stern but breathy, sending a shiver down your spine.

You lick at the head of his cock, engorged and bright red, beads of pre-come bubbling out of his slit, awaiting you to catch them with your tongue. You lap over the taut, pinkened skin, eyes fluttering closed at the taste of him – a fine combination of salty and sweet. You can’t help the draw of your attention to the tanned splotches covering him like stardust, mapping out what would seem to be a different set of constellations every time you look too long.

Izuku’s hand is woven into your hair carefully, so he does not pinch your scalp, but he can still hold onto the makeshift ponytail he’s created with his fingers bunched around your tresses. You whimper, eyes torn from his freckled skin, as he guides your mouth closer to his cock, the head of him brushing against your closed lips.

His voice is thick with restraint, his throat bobbing at the sight of your pretty, jeweled irises looking between him and his cock, wondering how you’re going to take the thick of him between your plush little lips. Your eyes are almost crossed as you try to count his freckles, as if you could pay that close of attention when he’s got you on your knees.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, Angel?” Deku is patronizingly kind as he brushes his knuckles over the curve of your jaw. Your eyes zero in on the scarred stripes along his palm and forearm, your fingertips reaching up to slowly drag across the pale lines that tell a story you’ve heard a dozen times. Izuku makes an audible noise of consideration at your marveling, “You were just beggin’ me for my cock, and now you won’t even open your mouth for me?”

He sounds like he’s pouting, lower lip jutted out just enough for it to look convincing. You swallow your inhibitions, throat bobbing when he brushes his cock along the hollows of your cheeks, the head of him smearing what remains of his pre onto your skin. He chuckles as you gasp, your jaw hung open just enough for him to rut up into your mouth.

You gag around him, lurching forward as tears coat your lashes. You whimper, looking up to him like he might save you from what’s to come. But no, you asked for this. You begged him to let you taste his cock, to have him spill his fullest load onto your tongue and force you to swallow.

“Such a pretty girl,” his words turn to a moan as you take him to the base, forcing yourself to breathe evenly so you won’t gag around him again. His hand in your hair tightens and you take a deep breath, the short, stubbled pubic hairs surrounding his cock doing little to hide the freckles on his smooth skin.

You’re not sure why you love them so much – the freckles.

They are such a distraction that you don’t notice Izuku yanking you by the ponytail until you come off his cock with a loud pop. You whine, keening forward to try and lick at his tip, “I-Izu-please.”

“Uh uh,” he cinches his hand around your hair even tighter, tugging your skin backward until it burns. A smirk lilts his lips, “What’s my name, baby girl?”

Your eyes go wide, pupils swallowing your irises whole. Deku almost misses the color, if it not for the fucked out look that takes their place, telling him exactly what he’s done to you. He bites down on his lower lip, half-hooded lids considering you, “You’re already a mess for me, aren’t you baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Your cock,” you whine, squinting your eyes so you don’t have to feel his authoritative penetrating your very being. Your thighs tense, pussy clamping down around nothing but thin air, wet with arousal and begging to be full of him. Before Izuku can tell you to correct yourself with a simple syllable, you repeat yourself, “Your cock, Daddy.”

A satisfied expression smooths his features, the red of his cheeks doing little to hide the smattering of freckles to match those littered across his cock and thighs. You brush your nose against his navel, kissing the gentle swell of muscle beneath it. Izuku licks his lips, hips rolling forward so his cock brushes over the length of your throat.

“That’s’a good girl.” Deku purses his lips as you kiss down his shaft, your tongue lapping over every inch of him. Your eyes are level with his pubic bone, searching for the tanned droplets of sunshine incarnate on his skin, hidden beneath dark tufts of jade hair curled around the base of his cock.

Before you take him between your lips, you lick a stripe from the underside of his shaft up to his navel. You can’t help yourself as the dark smattering of freckles call out to you, a reminder that even though he is tainted by the war of the world, you still have these small victories to come back to. You worship his taut skin with your lips and tongue, the muscle parting your mouth to lick at his body.

Izuku’s fingers weave into the hair at the base of your head, eyes watching you closely as you pay special attention to the various patches of densely packed freckles. You nose over his hipbone, breathing slowly, the wash of warmth prickling his skin and forcing him up on his toes as he reacts to it.

There is a large part of him that wants you to stop. Not because he’s selfish enough to force you to pay attention to the throbbing heat between his legs, but rather because your praise is something that makes him feel even more unworthy. He is self-conscious of his body, both the discolored spots that he’s never able to be rid of in tandem with the ragged rips in his flesh that you seem to love so much. He has never understood your fascination with his body, but you are relentless with your affections.

It comes in many forms. At times it is the way you run your fingertips over his shoulders when you’re laying together, and other times it is your mouth finding his knuckles when you think he’s asleep. You are unashamed to lavish his body with unending passion, and even the smallest of deformities that he believes are his secret, you manage to find.

You loll your tongue out to let the collected spit pool over his length, sucking at the head when you get to it. Deku rubs his thumb against your neck, fingertips searching your hair for purchase. He’s taken aback when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking him deep into the heat of your mouth. His eyes go wide, but he’s thankful you can’t see with the way his head is thrown back.

“Fuck, baby,” his hand twitches against your scalp, “fuck, this mouth.”

He starts rolling his hips forward, pumping himself in and out of your mouth like he might your pussy. You feel drool seeping out of the corners of your lips but you don’t dare break away, because that would bring forth a punishment, and your cunt is already sopping wet with the anticipation of his cock buried deep within you. Deku grunts, his chest vibrating with the sound, and he holds you still with the hand against your head.

You reach up to find his free palm, lacing your fingers together at the knuckle, using him as some sort of an anchor to reality as the subservient headspace begins to take over. It washes through you like a balm, a warm sensation that feels like home.  Your eyelids fall over your irises, hiding your expression from him, but he can tell the way you feel by your ministrations against his hand and on his cock. You are desperate for him, one hand clutching his thigh until your nails dig in and leave tiny crescent moon prints behind.

You like to think of his freckles as stars, your marks making him more like the night sky with each grip. You moan as you hold yourself at the base of him, tongue lapping around his length from within your mouth. Your thumb finds a familiar scar on the back of his hand, knuckles marred from battle and bravery.

It’s times like these that you want to cry for him, for what his body has endured. It’s the reason you want to worship every inch of him, to give him what he deserves because god knows the world will never give him back what he’s due. So here you sit, perched in front of him like a little dove, eyes blown to hell and your metaphorical wings spread wide as you take him for all he’s worth.

Izuku can’t take it any longer – the tenderness of your touch mixed with the obedient look in your eyes. It’s all too much, making his head spin at your sincerity.

“C’mere,” he whispers, tugging you by the throat, gently but firmly.

And you follow him, like you would follow him anywhere.

You step forward dumbly, blindly going wherever he tells you. He guides you to the bed, turning you over so your face is pressed into the coolness of the sheets, your bright red cheeks thankful for the change in temperature. You angle your ass upward perfect, round globes ripe for his hands to lay into.

“Such a sloppy little pussy, baby,” he murmurs against the skin of your lower back as he kisses down your spine. His middle finger runs up and down the length of your slit, collecting the silvery strands against his digit, “All this just for me?”

“All for you, Daddy, all for you, promise,” you’re whimpering out, cunt desperately clenched as you try to trap his finger in your heat. “Please, I want you so bad, need your cock, Daddy.”

Izuku pushes his finger into your core, curling it up towards that special spot that it seems only he can find. His finger is thick, knuckle curved in just the right way that it drags along your walls salaciously, eliciting a loud, careening moan from your mouth. You muffle your sounds into the mattress, but Midoriya is having none of that.

He yanks you by the throat, fingers digging deep into your skin until you’re sure that you’ll have bruises, “Nah uh, little one. I want to hear you scream for me.”

Midoriya pumps his finger into you mercilessly, your arousal coating him down to the palm, making your thighs slick. You whimper, your lewd sounds echoing off the walls. You can feel the tip of his cock against your ass, throbbing with heat, and there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself from imagining it in place of his fingers.

“I know you can be louder, slut,” Deku pinches your neck tighter in his grip, “I want the neighbors to know my name when we’re through.”

You try to protest but it’s cut short when his finger rams into you, two knuckles deep, a sharp cry splitting your throat wide open. The sound morphs into a whimper, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes.

Deku leans forward to kiss between your shoulder blades, his voice hoarse with want when he speaks, “That’s my girl. Do it again.”

He relinquishes your throat to start slapping your ass, his eyes unable to fall away from your pretty skin marked red from his ministrations. You grit your teeth together so you can better withstand the pain, giving yourself something else to focus on besides his unrelenting spankings.

“Daddy, harder,” you whine, your ass stinging but not so much that you can’t follow through on your plea.

A dark chuckle reverberates throughout the room, Midoriya’s smirk from earlier returning. If you could see his eyes, you’d notice the way his pupils have completely overtaken his emerald orbs, giving way to the parts of him that want to make you hurt only so he can be the one to soothe you all better.

He indulges you, palm stretched wider so he can land harder smacks to your cheeks. Now he’s got two fingers in you, filling your cunt with his knuckles, the scars against them giving you friction that makes you see stars. He pumps you in time with his spankings, slow but merciless. Deku is careful not to go too far, no matter how difficult that might be with the lust that clouds his vision, painting his sight bright red.

“Good girl,” he rewards you by stopping, grabbing your plush ass in his fingertips, digging blunt nails into your skin so it stings even harsher.

You rut your hips back against his hand at the sudden jolt of pain, tears dripping from your eyelids to the mattress, staining the sheets a darker shade. You whimper, your mind unable to focus on any one stimulation – your ass, your cunt, or your throat.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” he asks, although you know it to be rhetorical.

You’re nodding your head anyway, desperately begging inaudibly for him to stuff you full, your cunt suffocating around his cock as he pounds into you. Deku slowly drags his hand from your pussy, words dripping just like your core, “What was that, Princess? I couldn’t hear you.”

Now you’re foaming at the mouth to force syllables from between your teeth, blubbering around tears. You sniffle, frustrated with your own headspace and timid with the thought of punishment for not answering quick enough, “Y-Yes, Daddy. I-I’m ready.”

“Hey,” he runs his hand, searing from the spankings, up the length of your spine, fingertips mapping out each vertebra, “you still with me, baby?”

You turn to look over your shoulder when he brushes his thumb over the little blooming bruises on your neck, evidence of his fingers claiming you for his own, “Yeah, I-I’m right here.”

A smile tugs on his lips, his fingers finally pulled from your sopping heat to coat his cock in your slick. You whimper at the loss of contact, cunt fluttering around nothing as you beg for him to fill you up again, any way he chooses.

And he obliges you, bottoming out within the first stroke.

You can’t help it when a fresh set of saltine droplets track down your cheeks, your head thrown back in pleasure as he holds himself steady, his pelvis flush with your ass. It still burns, the stinging of skin-on-skin doing little to quell the ache from his spankings. You lick your lips to try and soothe yourself in some way, your throat already crackling from use.

Licking your lips, you gently move back against him, encouraging him, “Daddy, I want you to fuck me. Please, won’t you fuck me?”

Deku sounds like he’s trying to hold back some sort of salacious sound, a strangled noise caught in his throat like barbed wire. You look back at him, chin pressed against your collarbone. It’s the sight of you that does him in, that wants to claim you for every ounce of what you’ve got to give. He wants to mark your body until there is no color remaining but bright purple and blue and red, bruises and scrapes alike adorning your pretty body, letting the whole world know exactly who you belong to.

The thought of sinking his teeth into every available spot of skin that he can find makes his fingers curl tighter around the supple skin of your thighs until you’re crying out for him. You writhe beneath him as opens his eyes, baring even your soul with his stare. His body squirms as he withstands the desire to launch himself at you, feral and promising with his teeth finding your pristine body and marring it for his own selfish cause.

At least then your bodies would match in their markings.

You’d be his own little galaxy; he muses as his hands massage into your thighs to keep himself busy, so he doesn’t follow through on the yearnings rolling around in his mind. He can see you stood next to him, your body littered in affections – hickeys that are blown out all around your body, little nebulas and planets with their swirling colors of purple and blue; long lines of bright pink scratch marks that streak forward like shooting stars curling around your muscles; pierced tooth marks that scatter across your body like stars.

Even though he’s the Number One Pro Hero, Izuku has never felt so whole until he’s balls deep in your pussy, the tip of him tucked up against your cervix so much so that you swear you feel him in your spine. He takes one palm to gently brush over your stomach, the bulge of his cock making his pride swell almost as much as your belly. You are his whole world, whether or not you are just as bruised and battered as he is. He will bear the burden of the scars if it means he can have you like this forever.

“Take me so well, Princess,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulders, leaning forward so his chest is pressed flush with your back.

He is hot, but not unbearably so. Almost in a way that reminds you he is still there, an anchor for your soul to latch onto in the darkness of the room, holding you firmly to tether you to this version of reality. You grasp the sheets in your hands, desperate to feel him but unable to from this position, so you settle for the thread count instead.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel you,” you beg him again, whimpers bubbling up into your chest like champagne bubbles. The effervescent feeling is almost too much, too overwhelming, as it rushes to your head quickly. You have to close your eyes, so you do not get dizzy. You see stars as your lids come down over your pupils and the sight of them reminds you of Izuku’s body. So much so that you want to look up at him again, begging him with your words, “Want to touch you.”

Deku obliges you, slowly pumping his tremoring cock in and out of your heat, coating himself in your slick before twisting your body around so you can peer up at him through half-lidded eyes, “Look at this slutty, sloppy pussy. Such a pathetic little mess for me, aren’t’cha?”

“Yes, Daddy, all for you.” You nod, blinking repeatedly to try and keep your eyesight clear so you can make out his beautiful travesty of a body. Despite the absolute adoration held in your pretty orbs, Deku notices that it is not his face you seek out when you first are turned to look at him, instead your eyes drift to the bared parts of his body that he hates most.

It would seem that each time you find him this way, with your hands mapping out his torso underneath your touch, you find a new part of him, a new marking that you don’t remember being there before. Your breath shudders from your lungs and it feels like thunder erupts in your chest when you breathe, “Please, Daddy.”

You are pouting as you start to run your touch up his arms, starting at his wrists where his palms are pinning your hips into the bed. You swirl your thumbnail around the familiar scars of his hands, those old marks from his time at Yuuei, pushing himself to be the best young hero-in-training there ever was. You recall watching the Sports Festival in his first year, the fight with Todoroki Shouto like a burnt ember settled in the back of your mind. You see the fire and the ice, the shuddering arena shaking with the imminent power of the teenager prodigies.

A hum buzzes in your throat as your fingerprints map out the way to his elbows, finding lengthy scars that make you shudder. Your tongue lolls out against your lips as you wish you could patch his body up with your kiss. You know that he does not marvel at the sight of himself in the same way that you might; you put him up on this pedestal, scars and all, and yet he only sees them as a weakness.

The rough patch of tarnished skin on his right bicep has begun to lose its rigidity as time passes. It was one of his first scars and has been worn down with time. Your hand still finds it, though, even as your eyes are screwed shut and he is angled away from you. It’s like you have a map of his body burned into the back of your eyelids, memorized from all of the times that you’ve fallen apart beneath him or comforted him with your touch.

He is patronizing when he speaks next, eyes blown to hell at the sight of you so far gone for him when he hasn’t even brought you to your first orgasm. He can feel you spasming around him, cunt flexing to try and coax him closer to the edge. He is nowhere near the precipice, holding himself off for your sake, wanton to see you come undone around his cock.

Your pupils try their hardest to focus, begging to be drawn to his bedraggled skin, the stark contrast between tan skin and pale scars heightened even further in your blissed-out state. Your palm flattens against the marking on his bicep, the flayed spot even more expansive than your hand in its entirety. You gasp as he ruts up into you painfully quick, your fingers digging into the rugged flesh, nails biting against the ridges.

When he stills within you, it gives you a moment to slacken your hold and trace the corners of the scar, pretending that he is a patchwork quilt, an antique that you’ll never be able to get enough of. You take a breath and use your free hand to find his chest, a lightning-bolt shaped scar that runs from his collarbone down until it fizzles out into a small scratch near where his taut pectorals meet.

Midoriya trails his thumb downward to your clit, brushing the rough pad of his finger against your sensitive bud. You mewl into the mattress, face turning sideways into the pillow as you no longer are able to hold yourself upright. You beg him to fuck you harder, faster, with something more that you know he has not given you yet.

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell Daddy exactly what you want me to do to this pathetic, slutty little pussy.”

You gasp out words, but he cannot make sense of them as they’re lost in the fabric of the sheets. He slams into you once before dragging his cock outward, slowly skimming the tip between your folds, “Louder. Or else I’m spanking you again.”

He thinks for a moment, tilting his head to consider you as he looks down his nose at you, “And I’m flipping you back over.”

“N-No, please, wanna-” You are begging for breath, your inflamed lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, and you can’t make syllables coherent enough for him to understand. You whimper, squeezing your eyes closed as the brunt of his hand comes down hard over your ass repeatedly until you’re screaming.

Izuku is holding you by the ass, both hands dug deep into the plush skin, “Did I fucking stutter?”

You are able to behold one last gaze of his ethereal body, skin marked like the night sky, before he has you with your face dug into the pillow, his cock and hips jackhammering into you from behind. He does not give you but a moment to breath, the fabric of the pillow stuffing your throat as you try to inhale through your mouth. You cough and it causes your cunt to squeeze around his dick. Deku stutters forward, a choking sound echoing in the back of his throat.

“Holy hell,” he mutters, leaning forward to drape himself across your back, reaching around with his hands to pinch at your nipples. “So fuckin’ tight, little one. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You whimper out something that sounds like a response, so he takes the lead and starts rutting into you again, the obscene sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing off of the walls. You can’t help the drool that spills from your tongue, wetting the sheets and sticking to your chin. You’re practically in tears as he abuses your pussy with his cock, it only growing as you feel the buildup of his power starting to swell from within him.

The air turns electric, but not nearly hot enough for you to know that he’s turned his quirk on. You force a glance over your shoulder, mewling out something that sounds like a pleading cry for him to turn you back so you can gaze up at him again.

“But I like taking you like this, Princess,” Izuku runs his thumbs over your ass, using the cusp of his power to strike small lightning bolts of seafoam color against the skin of your backside. You jolt at the pain, bucking your hips back into him and he moans, “There you go, baby.”

You whine, curling your toes against his hips from your position. He chuckles at the sign of desperation, sweat glistening down your back from exertion. His hips slam forward again, and you’re sure he’s bruised your cervix this time with how deep he has buried himself into you. There are ridges of scar tissue around his hip bones that you can feel even as he fucks into you from behind, the raised skin making your ass burn from where he has slapped you with the strength of his quirk.

“Daddy, I wanna,” you are panting like a puppy into the sheets, your pussy dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You huff out a breath and squeal when he splits your pussy open again with a particularly rough thrust forward, “Daddy!”

Deku pinches your backside with both hands, the biting touch of pain making your eyes water until tears are coating your lashes and staining the pillowcase, “What, huh? What more do you want, Princess?”

You know that Izuku is a sucker for your needs. If you whine hard enough, he’ll give you anything you want. So, with that in mind, you pout to give your demeanor an even more innocent aspect, “I-I wanna kiss you, p-please.”

As expected, he stills his hips from where he is bruising your ass with his scars and bones alike. You wonder for a moment if the imprint of his marred skin will leave an impression on you if you could carry around a little piece of him always.

However, this time when he yanks himself from you, a squelching sound echoes throughout the room in tandem with your mewling whine at the loss of heat, and he does not reenter you immediately. You are about to stutter out something akin to a protest, but you feel his fingertips dip into your sides and instead you let loose a yelp.

Deku takes you by the hips, easily yanking you upward and flipping you around so your back is flush with the mattress, the sweat on your spine making the sheets stick to you. Your eyes are wide, hands gripping into his marred biceps like claws sinking into his skin.

“What?” he is smirking as he nudges his nose against yours, the heat of his cock pressed into your folds but not penetrating just yet. “I like this angle better.”

He nips at your skin before pulling himself back, his hand groping your breast with purpose. He is tweaking your nipple under his touch while his other hand runs his cock against your slick heat, teasing you mercilessly. He watches the lips of your pussy tense when he gets close, wavering at the anticipation of his cock dredging into you with force.

“Plus,” Deku tilts his head, palm reaching up from your chest to grab your face between his fingers, “you never answered me.”

His thumb finds your clit again, dick teasing you by resting between your thighs, throbbing and dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his pre. His fingers are intense as they squeeze your cheeks together, lips ballooned out pertly. Deku chuckles at the sight of you, red in the face and begging him for more with the subtlety of your eyes.

Something twinges within him as he can’t keep your focus on his eyes, but rather on his body. He should feel pride swell in his chest at your adoration of his finely tuned body from years of hard work, but he knows that you are focused on the scars of his body and it gives him a sour taste in his mouth.

The thoughts in his mind flee from your pert chest and smooth stomach and instead he wonders what it is about his skin that you find so enticing. You run your fingertips over each ridged scar, finding the different colors of worn skin beneath the pads of your hands, showing them immense affection with just a gentle touch. His whole body shudders at the feel of you appreciating him with massaging motions and tracing, but he wants to ask you the questions he’s been begging silently for months, years even.

You are trying to form words, but the only thing coming from your mouth is spittle, drool seeping through the cracks of your lips until it coats your chin, cool beneath the air conditioning. Slowly your eyes roll forward so you can look into his darkened pupils, the middle of his irises resembling the darkest beauty marks that he has littered throughout his body. You smile at the sight of his intense irises seeking you out.

Midoriya laughs as the heel of his hand sops it up, smearing it back against your lips before cleaning his palm on the bed sheets. He leans forward, his cock sheathed fully within you as he grows closer to your face. Your palm reaches out to cup his jaw, the tips of your fingers finding the familiar pale lines of his skin to trace like it were a nervous tick.

“C’mon, now,” he kisses your nose, an innocent gesture in stark contrast to the intense motions he’s administering to your clit. “Tell Daddy.”

Your mouth splits wide open with the three words, a confession you know that he’s heard you utter before, but it does not come any less lascivious from your lips the more you beg, “One for All.”

He does not respond immediately, pupils dilated as he glances down at you. Your body squirms beneath his lack of movement, begging for some sort of friction on any part of you. The skin of your ass tingles as he presses you down firmer into the mattress, and you want to cry out but all you can blubber is those three words, again and again, as you plead for him to use his quirk on you.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you swear to him, nodding your head enthusiastically, “I want it so bad, Daddy, please, I want you to-”

Your begging is cut short by a sizzling in the air, the familiar popping of his quirk activating making your skin pebble with goosebumps. Your mouth runs dry at the sight of his skin lighting up with those familiar red lines, power coursing through his veins and making his hair stand on end.

Reaching up, you run your fingers through it, nails scraping at his scalp so you can feel the heat of his energy sparking against your fingertips. You arch your back upward to try and catch some of the wayward sparks, the salacious stinging of your skin only furthering the copious amount of slick between your thighs.

Deku tilts his head up to look you in the eyes, pupils shrunken down so his sea green irises can shine bright, glowing in the darkness of your bedroom. The entire room is aglow with his power, the very strength and resilience that has allowed him to build up so much intensity a conduit for your pleasure. His cock pulses against your thighs and you find yourself clenching around him, your body begging for him to stay close, too frightened at what might happen if he were to pull away.

“This what you wanted?”

His voice is deeper now, a rumbling timbre in his chest that makes your toes curl. You are panting at the expectancy of it all, sweat trickling down your temples and spine from the sudden change in temperature. The heat rises the longer he uses his quirk, so much so that you wonder if you could burn from it. The thought excites you, lights up your eyes until you cannot hold it in anymore.

You lean forward to kiss him on the mouth, slotting your lips between his. Pops of electricity stem from his entire body, sparking in midair before fizzling out with a gentle wash of ash. Deku licks at the seam of your lips, pressing his tongue between your teeth to map out every bump of your gums.

“Please,” you whimper against his tongue, “fuck me, hero.”

You have no more than spoken the words when his cock slips into your heat, coated with your arousal as quickly as he can rut forward. He grits his teeth to keep his composure, body trying to crumble between the use of his quirk and the feel of your tight cunt. You can’t help but notice the way he stretches you out even more so now than before, and you know that it’s in part to the fact that his girth has widened even further after he’s summoned his dormant power.

Deku reaches forward to press his glowing palm to your chest, rolling the bud of your breast between his fingertips as he starts to fuck into you. Your body is racked with effort, practically a ragdoll beneath him, all weak joints and jellied bones. And yet he is as powerful as ever between his mouth and his hands and his dick, every part of him built for your utmost undoing.

Lines of electricity fly from his body, bright green lightning strikes making the air pop all around you. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth when the first one stings your skin, lighting up the room in a flash of intense voltage. Izuku pauses, his hips stilling, “Baby?”

“Again,” you are panting, eyes half-closed as you revel in the pleasure from the shockwave. “Please.”

Deku has to focus on the electric side-effect of his quirk, closing his eyes so he can control the power radiating from his body. He starts to roll his hips into you slowly, once he feels settled with the coursing energy brought on by One for All.

You peel your lids back so you can watch as energy rushes through his frame, lighting up his body in such a way that reminds you of the pure power that he keeps hidden from the world most of the day. The light coursing just beneath his skin only serves to further draw out the beauty of his marred skin. His freckles are stars painted against the bright red and green patterns of electricity surging around his body like lightning bolts. You reach up to brush your thumbs against the apples of his cheeks, sucking in a breath at the sheer heat he’s radiating.

The reality that you have the very universe under your touch does not go unnoticed by you. You marvel at the constellations splayed out before you on his skin, giving you a small drop of the milky way right here in your home. It is overwhelming, the thought of it all dizzying as the heat thuds against the back of your eyes. And despite the boulder that sits on your shoulders at the burden of having to hold up his universe, you feel a jolt of exhilaration with the responsibility settling in your belly. You will be the one who he can crumble into when he’s tired of shining out for everyone else.

After all, a star can only be born after a nebula collapses.

Deku’s arms are strong around you as he holds you in place, cock sliding deep into your heated core, collecting your slick and his pre for easier lubrication, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft making you shiver as it drags against your walls. His biceps flex with the use of his quirk and the effort of holding you in midair to keep you snapped up into him and your hands are drawn to his bulging muscles all over again.

There is no doubt that he could keep you safe from any harm – one flick of his fingers, and a villain is rendered to a helpless annoyance.

The notion makes you shiver, reaching your hands up towards his shoulders, caressing his arms to feel the protruding cords of muscle rippling under the stress of his quirk. Your fingerprints find scars, puckered pink and marring his pretty tan skin. Other people might think that these markings make him weak, proving that he is fallible, mortal. But you think that every line on his body is a visible reminder that he has given so much to those who might not ever give it back. He has been beaten, bruised, and broken, and yet here he still stands, tall and proud in the face of danger.

Izuku knows that look in your eyes – wonder, awe, respect.

It swells his pride even further, his chest taut as he puffs himself up at the sight of you with adoration like stars in your irises. His thrusts are more intense now, guiding you closer to the cusp of pleasure, begging your body with the pulse of his cock to come undone.

“I-Izu, please.” You’re pushing your face into the pillow now, the burning hot pool building up steam in your belly becoming too much. He doesn’t even care that you’ve slipped up, not when he’s got you wrapped around him like a coil, working you from the inside out to drag the licentious sounds from your throat.

“Please what, Princess?” His hand sparks electricity around your chest, your nipple now pert with the fizzle of electricity as it creeps beneath your skin and into your veins. “Look at me, c’mon.”

He smacks the side of your breast, watching as the round flesh ripples under his ministrations. He breathes heavy, his chest inflating rapidly as his hips drill mercilessly into you. You clamp around him, quietly pleading with him to stay buried to the hilt so you.

When you don’t respond by turning your head, Midoriya grabs you by the cheeks, dominantly forcing your vision back to him. He’s almost regretful when you whimper, a shining trail of drool spilling from your mouth to pool into the pillowcase. The damp spot draws his attention and his cock twitches within your pussy, brushing up into your cervix and making you cry out, throat so hoarse that your voice cracks.

Izuku blinks hard, pulling his eyes away from the dark circle on the pillow to focus on your face, slipping his thumb into your mouth to press down on the center of your tongue. He smirks, his free hand holding you by the ass now, digging blunt nails into your flesh to create a conduit for his electricity to flow straight to your backside.

You whimper around his digit, the sound muffled by his finger, “G-Gonna come, Daddy.”

“Are you now?” he asks proudly, tilting his head to consider you. “Did I say you could come?”

You’re shaking your head as he grabs your ass harder, bringing tears to your eyes at the immense pressure combined with the raw feeling from his spankings earlier. As if to challenge you, Deku starts jutting forward, driving your hips deeper into the mattress until you feel like you might fall through.

The use of his quirk makes him so much stronger, his corded body trying to restrain from using its full power on you, despite calling all of it forward. He grits his teeth down so hard that you think you hear his jaw creaking, but you hardly have time to notice before you’re having to ward off your own pleasure. Using every ounce of One for All, Izuku bruises your cervix with the engorged head of his cock, the quirk enlarging every part of him.

You beg him with blurred words and hazy vision, whining and keening, until he’s leaning down close to your face, his hand now moved from your mouth to your throat, wet fingers wrapped around your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs with his nose against your cheek, lips dancing along your jawline to place feather light kisses, much in contrast to the otherwise bludgeoning intensity of the rest of his ministrations. “Such a pretty little thing.”

Your eyes find his face as he leans back to look down at you, the freckles dusted over his cheeks stark beneath his bright red streaks symbolizing the use of his quirk. You reach upward to tuck your palm against his cheek, cupping the skin burning hot with the coursing energy of his power. Your thumb brushes over the roundest part of his face and his eyes shudder closed at the feeling.

He kisses your wrist, bottoming out into your cunt with a harsh thrust forward. Deku turns his gaze to you, electric irises finding your soul through way of your pupils, “You gonna come when I tell you?”

“Yes, yes,” you’re practically foaming at the mouth, little spit bubbles at the corners of your lips at the thought of coming around his cock, your arousal mixed with his seed as he fills your core with his come. “Please, Daddy, I wanna come for you.”

Izuku nods, kissing your wrist again before falling back on his thick legs to grab you by the thighs, lifting you up off the mattress. It is just a display of his strength, his biceps bulging with effort, but it does what he intends for it to do when he feels your dripping arousal slipping from your slit down to drip onto the mattress.

“Fuck, look at your sloppy little pussy, Princess,” Deku moans at the sight of your silvery slick pouring out of you. He runs his thumb against the curve of your backside to catch what he can, running it over your clit before sucking his digit between his teeth.

Using his damp fingertip, Izuku begins to work at your clit, his other hand still pinning your thighs up in midair. He licks his lips at the sight of you on the cusp of pleasure, your body begging to come undone with the way your pussy clamps around his cock.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxes you with a kind voice, electric pops crackling in the air like fireworks. “Come for me.”

You quit holding back, letting your body rush with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure. Every part of you is on fire, from his touch mixed with the searing heat of his body and the green lightning that strikes your body to leave tiny pink pucker marks. The sight of you marked up by his teeth and tongue and quirk bring him to his own heightened arousal, unable to hold back when he feels you gush with come from within the confine of your walls.

The glowing iridescent light making the room fluorescent fades into the dark with every spurt of his come into your cunt until he is no longer using One for All.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek, “now let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

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You’re not sure what flips the switch within you – whether it’s the tight look of his uniform showing off the peaked buds of his nipples and the engorged head of his cock, or if it’s the blush on his freckled cheeks, making him look so much younger than the twenty plus years old he is now.

Whatever it is, it makes your mouth water and your fingertips buzz.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“B-But, the pad tha-”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Izuku’s thighs spasm at the authoritative tone of your voice and suddenly he feels about two inches tall despite towering over you no matter the situation. He tucks his head downward as he walks past you, down the hall towards the bedroom the two of you now share. Usually he is the one speaking those words as he stands over the top of you, his hand stinging red from spanking your ass as he orders you around, but the way they sound from your tone of voice makes his entire body quake.

The soft click of the door as it slips shut makes goosebumps rise on his skin, the stubbled hair on the back of his neck standing as upright as possible. There is a grunt from your mouth and a shuffling of your feet on the carpet as you kick off your shoes.

“B-Baby, I-”

Somehow you have shoved your foot into the crook of his knee, toppling him over onto the bed so he’s face first into the mattress, his ass perked upward as he tries to balance himself so he does not fall over. The globes of his backside are stretched tight within the spandex of his uniform, and you know the beautiful expanses of freckled skin that lay beneath the material.

Izuku looks over his shoulder, attempting to protest or ask you what is wrong, but you don’t want to hear it, so you lean forward and press your palm against his cheek, “You don’t speak unless spoken to, do you understand?”

He’s whimpering under your harsh touch, but the way his pupils dilate tells you that he’s enjoying it at least enough to test it out. You shove yourself backward, centered between his ass cheeks as your knees dig into the edge of the mattress. The tips of your fingernails run over the plush flesh of his backside, digging in to make him gasp and writhe beneath you.

Your heart hammers in your chest at seeing the up and coming Pro Hero wriggling like a frightened animal under your ministrations, and you’ve barely laid a hand on him yet. You run your knuckle up his spine, “Take your top off.”

The way he balances his head on the mattress and grapples with his shirt in an attempt to take it off is almost comical, so you crack a smile, thankful that he can’t see you. You lick your lips and drag your hand back down his back to rest at the base of his spine as he scrambles to take the shirt off, but he’s too flustered and it ends up bunched up around his neck and shoulders.

Finally, he gets so frustrated that he rips the fabric in half, shreds of thread falling against his skin and the sheets. You feel heat flood to your core, your spine white hot within your body, the tingles of heat spreading from the center of you outward until your fingertips and toes are blazing with fire.

You hum in appreciation at the sight of his rippling shoulders and trap muscles, his body shifting to dip back into the mattress, balancing all of his weight on his forearms as he leans forward. Your touch drifts from his shoulders to his obliques, the bumps of muscle corded beneath your digits. You watch as his body ripples with a shiver, every one of his muscles tensing as your fingers pad over his freckles, finding patches of darker skin to administer affection to.

It must be the pure anticipation that has his frame tense and quivering, the smallest of muscles twitching as you work your hands around his body. You settle your palms at his hips, flattening your hand against the expanse of skin at the center of his torso, “Baby, relax.”

You lean forward and kiss the dense smattering of freckles between his shoulder blades, “Now be a good little hero and take off your pants.”

The way you say it sends another wave of pleasure straight to his cock, the already throbbing organ about ready to bust from arousal and you haven’t even disrobed him yet.

Your feet pad against the carpet as you find your way to the edge of the bed, stripping out of your outerwear until you’re left in only a dark lace set, the filigree bringing out the beauty of your skin. Izuku goes dumb at the sight, turning his head just enough to get an eyeful of your chest area. His eyes about bug out of his head, wide and blown with lust as his tongue lolls over his lips, dripping a silvery string of drool onto the bed sheets.

“C’mon, Deku,” you force the word to come out in a patronizing tone, “strip for me.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing, but somehow manages to push through the aroused haze clouding his judgment to wriggle himself out of his tight-fitting hero suit. The bright green fabric is left in a pool on the floor, tattered clothes just the start of your destruction.

The head of his cock is bright red and there is a part of you that falters, wanting to beg him to take control and absolutely demolish your pussy with his harsh, controlling movements and his filthy mouth. It lasts but a moment, and yet he can still see it. There is a shift in his eyes, the way he considers you, and he leans forward to say something, but you’re grabbing him by the face, cheeks between your fingers, before he can speak.

“Roll over.”

Izuku does as told with little hesitation, flopping his shoulders around so his ass is once again in the air, primes and ready for your palm to lavish with spankings. Your breath shudders from your lungs and you lock your thighs in place by tensing them, centering yourself between his knees. The balls of his heels come into contact with your hips as he sways slightly, his mind dizzy from the promise of pleasure.

“How many?” you ask, your voice low and sultry, surprising even you with the depth of it.

A choking noise can be heard, but it’s muffled by the pillow. You chuckle, patting his ass prospectively, feeling the flesh ripple beneath your complacent prodding. Dipping forward, your chest falls flush with his back as you press feathery kisses over his midsection, finding the freckles like little gold pieces, adding each one to your treasure chest as you kiss it.

Izuku manages to spit out a number, something reasonable, and so you add a few more on top of it in your mind, smirking even though he cannot see you. You run the pads of your fingers down from the tops of his shoulders to the globes of his ass, the perky, round muscles making your stomach flip. You can’t wait to see the way his bruised ass mixed with the dark brown freckles of his skin – how beautiful the colors will be, how it might actually look more like a galaxy with shades of purple and blue as an accent to the brunette freckles dotting his skin like the night sky currently.

You reach your hands back and start to lay into him, counting the spankings in your head without keeping track of them aloud. You stop after you’re satisfied with his whimpering cries, his face buried deeper into the pillow with each endearing smack.

An errant thought crosses your mind and you can’t help but to dwell on it. If Izuku is already blubbering, how much farther can you take this before he’s crying into the pillow? The idea that you can bring one of the strongest men in the world to tears sets off a string of dynamite in your heart, the fuse triggering something akin to pride in your chest. You feel your whole body swell at the thought and you know that you must make it a reality tonight.

“How many was that?” you ask patronizingly, digging your nails into his ass to hear him squeak.

Your hands are already raw, burning at the feel of slapping his muscled backside repeatedly. Still, you knead your hands into him to elicit a pained whine. He writhes under you, his hands curling around the sheets until they’re beginning to rip under his tight grip.

“I-I dunno,” he blurts, a curt sob breaking his words. “I’m sorry!”

You chuckle and it comes out much darker than you originally intended. You release his ass, the thick of it jiggling as you let go. The pads of your fingers are gentle as you wash your touch over him, appreciating the way the redness of his freshly spanked cheeks brings out the deep color of his freckles, the splotches even more prevalent now that his body has been momentarily abused.

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry, baby,” you kiss each of his ass cheeks, flicking your tongue out to tease the heated skin, “you better start counting.”

Just as you punctuate your sentence with a sigh, your hands begin to strike him repeatedly. You struggle to keep count, desperately wanting to listen to his moans and whimpers as he gasps, mewling with both pain and pleasure as you lay into his backside. Midoriya is already misty-eyed, the feel of your domineering touch just enough to bring him to a subservient headspace, his spirit wallowing in the pain that your hands are doling out.

You barely have time to stop before he’s blurting out the number that matches the one you’ve counted. You smirk, leaning forward so your nipples scrape against his skin, “Good job, baby.”

The heels of your palms are what is stinging the most, so you can only imagine how his ass feels. You have a momentary relapse in thought, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, if maybe you’re going to push him to an edge he can’t come back from.

Although, when too much silence has passed and he is turning to gaze up at you over his shoulder, every inhibition you have flies directly out of the room through the crack in the door. His eyes are blitzed, lust making his pupils swallow the color of his irises, forehead crinkled in desperation as he attempts to form words to beg you back to him.

You rub at the pert skin, brushing your thumbs over the smattering of freckles on the roundest parts of his ass. Deku is whimpering beneath you, calf muscles fully flexed as he rocks back and forth in anticipation of your next slap.

“Such a good little hero,” you murmur, massaging your hands into his glute muscles. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Izuku whines, toes curling up beside your hips. He huffs but you can’t see his face to notice how fucked-out his eyes have become. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of his ass, and he preens, eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sudden stinging sensation.

You answer him with a resounding smack on his backside, making sure that your fingertips are curved just right, along with your palm, to make it sound much worse than it truly is, praying that you can manipulate his mind into believing that you’ve marked him for longer than a few moments.

The way the freckles on his skin trail from the top of his body to the bottom is nothing short of enticing. It brings about a certain innocence to him, something hidden that only you are allowed to know of. Your eyes can’t stop trying to put together a map of his body, begging to know just where the freckles begin and end. He is littered with them, his body darkening from time spent in the sun.

“P-Please,” his whole body is convulsing in pleasure. You can see his cock throbbing between his thighs and the mattress, his balls weighty with the impending excitement of his release. The bedsheet have a damp spot near the tip of his cock, most likely from his pre dripping at the sudden shakes of his body from your spankings, “I-I want more, Princess. Please!”

You smirk, hand hot from repeated spankings, “What’s your number?”

Deku pants, digging his nose into the mattress as if that might save him from having to answer. His hands are clamped around the sheets, nails threatening to rip into the thread count mercilessly, “I-I dunno, I don’t know!”

Your hand comes down over his ass repeatedly, unrelenting in your ministrations as you mark his backside bright red. You know that there will be little busted blood vessels to mix along with his freckled skin, purple lightning strikes that serve as a reminder to the way you broke down his resolve and conquered his body.

“P-Princess,” he whines, voice cracking in the midst of his sentence as he tries to beg for repentance, “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You curve your fingernails into his skin, uncaring to the way his body fully tenses, dips and curves of muscle and sinew on full display as he lays completely bare against the mattress. You want to strew yourself across him to feel the ripples of his muscles as he tenses under your touch, to know the reactions of his body as they are happening firsthand. A chill tremors down your spine at the thought of him, all dense and thick beneath you, and how you have complete and utter control over him. You hold his pleasure in your hands, he’s entrusted himself to you in this very vulnerable situation, and the reality of it almost brings tears to your eyes.

Instead you focus your energy into snarling around your teeth, sneering his name like slander, “C’mon, Deku, be a good little bitch and tell me what you think you can handle.”

He is verbally silent, the only thing you can make out from his face smushed into the sheets is mewling whimpers to match the way his body quivers. You teasingly stroke your thumbnail over the blushed skin of his backside, bouncing your touch from freckle-to-freckle as you scrape your nails into him.

Another couple of seconds pass by before you snatch your hand from his ass so you can slap him again when he spurts out an answer, “Th-Thirty!”

“Fifty it is,” you chuff, digging your fingertips into his buttocks in a massaging motion, preparing him for the next round of spankings. He pants, rutting his hips forward into the mattress for some sort of friction against his throbbing erection, balls weighty with his release as they slap between his legs.

You tap his hip, letting him know that you want him to readjust himself. Izuku bends at the waist, seething as the bruised skin of his bottom stretches with the motion. You resituate yourself between his knees, ass directly in front of your face. A gentle kiss is pressed to either of his cheeks, eyelashes daintily brushing over his throbbing flesh, and he jolts his hips back into you until your teeth graze his skin.

“Eager little thing,” you tut your tongue, grabbing him harshly by the hips.

You selfishly want to mark him up, to remind the world that he belongs to you no matter how much of himself he gives away every other moment of his life. When the sun goes down, when the bright sky bleeds into the night, he comes home to you and the both of you fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in one another’s arms.

Izuku’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, sweat dripping down his spine as you press up into him, “Such a slut for me, huh, honey?”

The next time he backs into you, you pinch his ass between your fingers on one side and on the other cheek you bite down hard into his skin. Midoriya bucks forward at the sudden jolt of pain, only worsening the scratches left behind by your canines. He grinds his face into the mattress, pressing the mix of his tears and sweat into the sheets, begging for a cool release from the heat of his body as he searches for it in the mattress. You swear that he sobs into the pillow, begging you for something, but you can’t quite make out all of the syllables.

You line up behind him, your lower abdomen flush with his round, freckled bottom, “You ready, baby?”

“Princess, please,” his voice is hoarse now, all jagged around the edges as he begs you for more, “I-I want you to be rough with me, please? I wan’ you to mark me up.”

On command, your fingernails dig into the flesh at the curves of his shoulders, raking down the length of his back in one elongated swoop. He cries out, throwing his head back so his green curls brush the piques of his shoulders, and he grinds his hips back into you. You can’t help the low growl that claws at your throat as you trail your index finger down over the ghostly sight that your nails have left behind. He seethes through his teeth at the burning sensation lighting his back on fire, but he still does not complain.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you handled, okay?” Your hands find purchase on the curves of his obliques, fingernails burrowing into the taut skin of his abdomen, crescent moon patterns left in the wake of you. “I’m gonna make sure all the other heroes know who you belong to.”

Your name bubbles from his lips, a prayer he’s pushing to the heavens, blessing the stars with his babbling. In the midst of one of his mutterings, you begin your next round of pert spanks to his ass. You give him little reprieve, counting in your head as you go along.

He’s a blubbering mess, all mismatched syllables and grunts and moans tearing his throat apart until he’s crying for you to mark him as yours, to claim him in a way that leaves no question as to who he belongs to. The echoes of please, please, please bounce off every wall, a cacophony of sound making the hair on your neck stand erect.

When you finish, your hands are stinging profusely, but you make sure to soothe your palms over his bottom, the flesh bright red and angry. His freckles look even darker now that his skin has been accented with the beginnings of purple bruises and crimson handprints left behind. You coo, leaning forward to kiss the center of his back, pressing your body into him so you’re flush with every inch of him that you can find, “What do you say, pretty boy?”

When Midoriya turns to look at you over his shoulder, his eyes blissed-out so his pupils swallow his viridescent irises whole, he gargles the words, “thank you,” in a cracked whisper. You nod, trailing a row over kisses down the dip of his spine, nudging your nose over his muscled body, silently telling him to relax.

“You want more?” you ask him quietly, your hands digging into any surface of him that you can find to try and release some of the tension built up from the time spent together. “Tell me what you want, baby.���

“Please, Princess, please,” he’s blubbering out the words, thick and heavy with the emotion pent-up in his throat, “I just wan’ be good for you, whatever you want.”

You tilt your head, brows furrowing in playful contemplation, “Whatever I want, huh?”

He’s nodding ferociously, his chin knocking into his chest with his enthusiastic actions. You know part of it is to make up for the lack of words that he can’t force through his teeth, so you merely chuckle and give him one final spank to his backside, “Roll over then.”

The speed with which he fumbles into rolling over onto his back is comical. You watch as a flurry of limbs wind together only to come apart again when he’s on his back. Izuku is wincing, the glassiness in his eyes reminiscent of tears and he’s trying his hardest to come across like he’s not in pain, although you see the way that he favors putting more of his weight on his shoulders instead of his ass so he’s bent at an odd angle.

“Whatever you want,” he is gasping the words out, puffs of exaggerated but necessary breath forcing his cheeks to inflate. “I’m yours.”

The words make your whole body puff up, heat starting in your core and creating steam that rises from your esophagus to your brain. It becomes muddled and you’re hazy now, drunk off of the power that he has given you with those five words. You reach forward and slide your thumb against his piqued nipple, licking your lips as you think of what you’re going to do to him not that you have him to use however you please.

“All mine?” you ask, your voice grating against the front of your throat harshly. You hum, “What do you want me to do to you then, baby?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose now, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, “I w-want you to use me, please, Princess, want you to use my pathetic cock to make yourself feel good.”

You reach forward and guide his scarred hand towards your cunt, “Touch me.”

Izuku is eager to please, so he’s fumbling forward until his thumb finds your clit, ministrations errant and disastrous. It’s adorable, really, the enthusiasm with which he seeks you out only doing further service to your ego. You feel your head grow dizzier as your core turns with tumultuous heat. You know that you do not want to drag this out too far as you already can feel the twitch of an impending crest of pleasure building from within you.

His thick finger slides up into your heated core and it takes all of your self-restraint to keep your moans between your teeth, holding the sounds captive like they might tell all of your secrets if you let them loose. You bite your lip, sucking the skin into the bite of your teeth, tilting your head back so you can close your eyes and enjoy the pleasure as it comes.

“Maybe if you touch me just right, I’ll let you feel my pussy on your cock, huh?” You have to face him, have to see his reaction, “How does that sound?”

Midoriya is bobbing his head, agreeing to whatever words you’re speaking, he can’t quite make out any one syllable with the way his brain is drowning with the sight of you straddling him. He’s not sure what it is about you, but he absolutely adores the idea of you holding your own against him, wrapping your body around him and denying him of whatever control he normally possesses.

And maybe that is what gets you wet too, because you know that he could fling you off of him with a simple flick of his wrist, and yet here he is, letting you demolish every last shred of his self-respect.

You can’t help it, with the way he’s already beginning to drool and the sight of his eyes drinking in your semi-naked body, you have to feel the soft heat of his mouth around your fingers. It is too quick, the way you jolt forward and press the pads of your digits against his soft mouth. He moans, realizing just what you’re trying to do because he’s done it countless times himself, and opens his mouth wide.

Your fingers slip inside the seeping heat of his tongue and cheeks, the muscle lapping at your digits until they’re soaked and knuckle deep. You lean down so you are but inches from his face, the squelching sounds that your pussy and his mouth make together doing little to still the erection pressed against your ass from behind and the absolute waterfall between your thighs.

Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to sink down on top of his twitching cock and let him have his way with you, to rock yourself along his length until you’re both finding that beautiful high together. But you know that if you wait, if you drag this out and force him to bend to your will, then it will bring you both to your knees.

“So pretty with my fingers in your mouth, Izu,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He attempts feebly to kiss you, turning his head, but your fingers catch on the corners of his lips and stretch the pink skin until it is pale. Your eyes flicker toward the bow of his mouth where a thin, white scar resides. You remember seeing this one when you first kissed him, and the memory of it makes you nostalgic, the years you’ve spent together built up much like his scars.

You lick a warm stripe up the column of his neck, feeling the muscles and veins throb underneath your ministrations. The heat of your breath combined with the slick of your spit makes Deku’s hips jut upward, his balls slapping loudly against your ass as he ruts into you painfully.

“Did I say you could move?” You are leant back now, your fingers still in his mouth but otherwise you are parted from him. Deku’s face pales, eyes widening in fear as he shakes his head, apologies tumbling in tandem with his spit from his lips, drool seeping down his chin until it is shiny.

The heel of your palm comes underneath his chin, so you have your hand wrapped around the lower part of his mouth, controlling his head with the simple turn of your wrist. You tilt his head upward so he can no longer see you, and pick up your hips to reposition yourself so you are hovering above him, just enough so you can start to tease the head of his cock against your slick slit.

He’s whimpering, “Please, Princess. I wanna touch you so bad, please, I wanna make you feel good.”

You let him beg for you, pumping your hand up and down his cock while you brush the angry red head over the gathering silver slick at your entrance.  You chuckle as his hips shuffle in the slightest, his discomfort obvious as he is practically vibrating with the desire to take over.

“What is it, baby? Eager?” You sink yourself down far enough to take the head of his cock within your walls, clamping down hard enough to make him whine. “I can’t wait to fuck myself on this pathetic little cock, Izu. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll have to call in sick tomorrow.”

Another round of blathering drivel is boasted into the air, his words muffled by your fingers, but he still forces them out, nonetheless. His tongue continues to curl around your knuckles and lavish the pads of your digits, sucking on them in between heaving breaths. You let a small moan shake your throat, rolling your hips forward to take another bit of his dick but not all of it, not yet. The enjoyment you’re getting from his stuttering whimpers and moans only heightening your senses and arousal.

“Princess, please, I-I think I’m gonna-” An aborted rut of his hips dies when you rake your nails down the entirety of his chest. Your fingers catch on the rigid edges of some of his scars, but otherwise you turn lines of his tanned flesh red from your scratching.

Izuku whimpers, his body arching upward as he tries to take it all in stride. In doing so, he sheathes his cock completely within you, the base of his shaft now flush with your lips. You cry out at the sudden stretch, throwing your head back in pleasure as a wave of white-hot arousal makes your thighs glossy with a new wash of slick.

When you come to, you lean forward to place a palm on either side of his head, holding yourself up so you are loitering over him like a shadow, praying that you are as every bit as menacing as you’re attempting to be. You grit your teeth and roll your hips several times, unbending to even his hands on your body, relentlessly fucking his cock until he’s screaming for you to stop.

“C’mon, little hero, I thought you’d be better than this,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug, “I thought you’d have more will power. You’ll never be number one if you can’t even last this long beneath me.”

Izuku shakes his head, “I-I can, I can do it, I-I promise. Please, just let-”

“I don’t think you understand,” your voice is low, menacing as you nudge your nose against the bridge of his face, nuzzling the freckled skin. The intimate act is far more tender than your tone, and it gives Izuku chills that you can display such dual sides of yourself simultaneously. “I’m not letting you do anything.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that there is nothing that he can do to change your mind, at least not in this setting. Deku’s hands still on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circular motions into your skin in a way that seems to be grounding him as much as it is stimulating you. You press a chaste kiss to his mouth before beginning to snap your hips upward and then back down onto his cock, clamping your walls around him when you feel the head of him press into that spongy spot hidden all the way in the back of your core.

You kiss all over his neck, finding clumps of freckles and stranded singular ones, lavishing the same amount of affection over each of them. Your mouth finds scars, both tiny, hairline fractures in the marble of his skin, as well as large, patchy ones that mar large splotches of his skin.

Even in these moments when you are the one doling out commands, you still find ways to appreciate his body. Your touch roams along the dips and contours of his torso, the rough ridges of your fingerprints searching for the matching ragged lines on his skin. You sigh into his throat and he slips a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, begging for you to come undone around his cock, praying that you’ll let him please you.

One of your hands wraps around his throat until you hear him choke, and then you speed up the pace of your hips until he’s begging through wheezes for you to relent. You lean back and he hikes up his legs so you can rest against his thighs, your body on full display in front of him. His eyes do not know where to land and neither do yours as you map out the various textures and colors of his skin – from the pale lightning strikes of his scars to the darker scattered splotches of freckles.

Izuku Midoriya is a vessel for the travesties of the world.

But you will spend the rest of your life trying to make up for its mistakes.

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One day it slips.

You don’t think much of it, because in the heat of the moment, with him buried at the hilt and you crying for release, the words don’t stick out very starkly against the other filth spewing from either of your mouths.

“Gonna stuff that pretty pussy full of my come, baby,” he bites your earlobe as he ruts into you mercilessly, “You’re gonna be so round and full of me.”

At the time, you thought he meant that you would be full of his cock and come, but after he starts to show particular attention to your stomach during sex, you wonder if there’s something else going on.

When he has you beneath him the next time, you drag his palm to your belly and look him in the eyes, “I want you.”

His freckles burn beneath his blush, much starker against his tanned skin thanks to the flush of warmth. Izuku tilts his head, the dark curls framing his forehead bobbing with the motion, “You have me, baby.”

You shake your head and whine at the lack of contact once he’s stilled. You bite your lip and push the heel of his palm into the gentle swell of your belly beneath your navel. He swallows, gulping so hard that his throat bobs. You lick your lips and take a short breath as he shifts above you, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of your body.

“I want you to come in me,” you murmur, tugging him downward with the gentle grip of your hand on his neck. You kiss him square on the mouth and his fingers reach to find your folds, middle and index finger parting you so they can slip inside to curl against your heat. You whine, the sound amplified as his tongue searches your teeth, “P-Please, Izu.”

Midoriya’s fingers thrust forward in you so intensely that he can feel his fingertips bulging your belly with the palm that’s pressed against your navel. His eyes widen at the sensation and it only spurs him into kissing you more fervently, teeth and tongue clashing as he tries to overwhelm every sense you possess.

You protest as he pulls his fingers from you, your eyes screwed shut as you whine. He tuts his tongue against his teeth, nudging his nose along the curve of your jaw as he places biting kisses along the bone, “Hush. Do you really think I won’t give you what you need?”

The authoritative tone in his voice brings you to silence, eyelids fluttering open so you can look him in the eyes as he leans back to balance himself on his thick thighs. Your touch is pulled from him as he goes further away, your fingers aching in midair for something to ground yourself with. Otherwise you just feel like you’re going to float away, your mind hazy with the effervescent bubbles of euphoria that travel up from your throat.

Before you have another moment to keen at the loss of his heat, he’s piercing your pussy with the head of his cock, butterflying your lips wide open so he can rut up into you with ease. The combination of his bubbling pre-come and your already slick arousal dripping from your cunt make the slam of his hips easier to take, easier to beg for.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Izuku coos in your ear, dropping his head to your shoulder to suck on the skin of your collarbone.

The jut of his cockhead into your core makes it difficult to think, let alone form fully coherent sentences. Izuku seems to relish in this, though, because he does not slow the drag of his cock or the flow of his words. He continues to goad you into begging for his release, for what you truly want, and it’s maddening. Your eyes cross beneath your lids at the overstimulation of it all until you’re blurting out the first thing on your mind.

“I wan’ you to breed me, Daddy!”

Izuku falters for a moment at the brashness of your words, but you barely have time to feel bashful before he’s rolling his hips again, growling near your ear with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him before.

“That’s my good girl,” he mutters while trailing his lips down to your breast. He lavishes your nipple with the rough pad of his tongue, lapping over the skin carefully so you’re begging him for more. “How am I supposed to breed you, honey? Tell me.”

The patronizing tone of his voice tells you that he knows exactly what you want, but he would rather hear the request coming in the form of panting words and wanton moans from your lips. You sniffle, your eyes watering at the bruising pace he’s setting. His hands drift down the tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing against the innermost part where your skin is the most sensitive. Your cunt clamps down around him, fluttering at the ghostly feel of his tantalizing touch.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unable to think of something to say to fill the void. You bite your lip as his mouth works at your chest, tonguing your nipple before biting at the mound of skin to drive a yelp from your lips. “I want you to c-come in me, Daddy! I want you to stuff me full o-of your come, please!”

He pouts around your nipple, leaving the small space he’s just sucked a hickey into in favor of your pert bud, “I already come in you, baby girl, what do you really want me to do?”

You bite your lip and fist the sheets at your sides when you feel frustration and embarrassment wash over you. Izuku nudges his nose along the swell of your chest before leaning up to kiss your chin, hovering like a menacing shadow. His smile does little to quell the bubbling intensity in your belly.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” he’s gentler now, breaking his more dominating side so he can reassure you, “I know you can. Just tell me what you want.”

The shining in his irises makes your knees weak but bolsters your spine to force you into uttering the next words, no matter how uncomfortable they might sit in your belly. You take a breath and look up into his eyes, “I want you to put a baby in me, Izu.”

“Good girl,” he manages to muster out the words with restraining the growl that aches at the back of his throat.

His hips cant forward, fingertips now just under your knees. Your breath comes in shaking pants, your chest shuddering under your confession. Izuku kisses your cheek and then your nose, positioning his hands while he has you distracted. His mouth ascends down upon your own as his fingers dip into the supple skin and muscle of your thighs, bruising the underside with the ghost of his fingerprints as he pushes your knees back until they’re almost touching your chest or the mattress.

You gulp in pain as his cock stretches you out in a whole new way with your body flayed out like this. You look like a butterfly, your wings spread so he can smother you with his movements. Deku licks at the seam of your lips and you gasp, your mouth parting so he can delve his tongue inside. Your whole body shakes at the intensity of his thrusts, your irises swallowed whole by your pupils as they dilate at the feel of your cunt trying and failing to clamp around his cock to keep him still so you can adjust.

“Say it again,” Deku encourages you, his voice breathless as he ruts you into the mattress.

Your shoulders and the curve of your ass are pressed so deep into the cushion that you swear you might fall through to the floor. You curl your toes and try to angle your hips forward to no avail. He has you fully enraptured in the way he wants, his body practically controlling the movements you’re allowed to make with how he’s pressed and holding onto every part of you.

“I-I want you to put a baby in me, Izuku,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

A pert slap lands on the outside of your thigh and you whimper at the thought you’ve done something wrong. Your eyes water and you look up at him, emerald irises glowering down at you with a mix of primal need and control.

His voice is nothing short of a growl when he commands, “Who am I?”

Your eyes go wide, forehead creasing at the realization of your slip up. You can’t form the words fast enough, scrambling within your subservient brain to find the right phrase. You bite your lip as his hips still upon your silence, practically begging him with your body to keep going.

The echo of another smacking of his palm against your leg resounds in the room, sending a shudder down your spine. A new wave of arousal coats his cock from where he’s buried within you. He smirks, “Such a sloppy pussy, baby girl. You’re so filthy, getting off on me smacking you around.”

He leans close into you, removing one hand from your thigh to frame your face, his thumb dug into the soft flesh beneath your chin so he can force you to look into his eyes. “Now, I’ll say it again, who am I?”

You gulp, your lower lip trembling at the sight of him, and your voice cracks when you speak, “D-Daddy, I-I’m sorry.”

Izuku kisses your bottom lip before showing the same affection to the top. His gentle ministrations are rather contrasting to the way your hips sting with the memory of his spankings. You blink slowly, taking him in from this close angle.

He’s so pretty, you know this even though your mind is hazy with subservient want. His freckles and scars stand out so pertly against his skin, showing you a roadmap to someplace you know you’ll get to someday. You reach up to frame his face with one hand, thumb brushing over the speckled spots along the bridge of his nose and cheek, marveling at the sight of his beauty.

Deku turns his face to kiss your wrist, “What’re you thinking?”

“You’re pretty,” you blurt, voice almost childish in the way you say it with such wonder.

The phrase stills his nose against your palm, his breath hot as it rolls down your wrist and forearm. You feel your pulse beat harshly within your veins at the change in temperature, emotion swelling in your throat until your neck bobs as you try to swallow it.

It’s not the stereotypical compliment that he might receive, however that does not change its weight. Izuku takes a short breath before he begins to kiss down the length of your arm, nuzzling your elbow once he’s pressed there. He looks up into your eyes and the absolute adoration that is settled into your irises, bejeweling them until he is wondering if they might actually be gems, gives him the effervescent sensation all over again.

Pretty.

The word plays on loop in his mind, until he has dissected all six letters of it down to their very essence. The combination of your tone and expression as you admit what’s truly on your mind causes his heart to tear into his rib cage with the speed at which it beats. He breathes in short, heaving gasps, the warmth of his breath spilling over your chest, nipples pebbling beneath him.

If you were to try and pin down his appearance, you might say it were bashful. You have seen several sides to Izuku, but the bright red tinge on his cheeks, creeping up his neck until his ears are burnt with the color, makes him seem much younger, much more innocent. It’s hardly innocent, the way that he’s bludgeoning your cunt with his cock, but you take this moment to remove yourself from that fact entirely, instead focusing on the wobble of his chin and the mist in his eyes.

In addition to the shyness, you also see doubt, conflict.

You push your fingers into the hair behind his ear, beckoning him closer so you can appreciate him closer. Your opposite hand presses against his cheek, the scar that runs along his jaw ragged under your touch. Midoriya’s lips part, the tip of his tongue hidden just behind his teeth.

“Pretty,” he echoes the word, unintentionally, you believe, by the way his face screws up once he realizes he’s said it aloud. Midoriya reels back from you, sitting back on his thighs, the tip of his cock twitching from within your core.

Your face goes bright red at the admission, your hand falling away from his face in shame. You gulp, readying yourself for another smack to your leg in admonishment at your confession. You wince, hiding yourself as best you can with him looking down at you in such an intimidating way by turning your face into the pillow, closing your eyes.

The wait feels like forever, as if he’s going to edge you with anticipation until you’ve gone blue in the face from holding your own breath. He surprises you with a gentle laugh parting his lips, screwing his eyes shut.

You take a chance and open your eyes, blinking slowly so you aren’t shocked at the expression on his face if it contrasts the giggle that sets off another round of arousal between your thighs. You lick your lips and bare your soul when you ask, “Y-You’re laughing?”

“You’re so cute, baby,” Izuku kisses your nose, his grip resetting to your thigh.

The bruising hold he has on you reminds you that even though he might come across as twinkling eyes and a mop of curls, he is the strongest hero alive, and he could crush you like a bug if he truly desired.

He tilts his head, “I think you’re pretty too.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

Izuku furrows his brow and leans back so he can study your face in its entirety, “No, Princess, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I-I just ruined the mood by calling you pretty,” you have the urge to ask him to put his fingers in your mouth just to get you to be quiet. Anything to staunch the flow of these ­superfluous words that won’t stop tumbling from your lips.

His thumb brushes along the curve of your jaw until his fingertip is pressuring your lip to stay open so he can study your teeth and gums, “Nah, you didn’t ruin the mood. Answer me this – who do you belong to?”

Instantly your thighs try to clamp together, knees wobbling at the statement and the firmness in his tone when he says it. You swallow, eyes blown wide, your tongue suddenly becoming very heavy in your own mouth. You want to whine, to cant forward and take as much of him as you can but he has you held still with a palm in the center of your chest, pinning you to the mattress as he waits for his answer.

Your hand covers his own, fingers slipping between his palm and knuckles so you can anchor yourself to him, even in this moment. Your middle and index fingers swipe back and forth over the back of his hand, finding the familiar triangular scars and tracing over them with purpose. They ground you, somehow, when your mind starts to flutter off into this subservient space and you can’t feel anything from your knees down.

“Y-You,” you manage to stutter, thighs wobbling with the stress of pinning him between your knees. Your eyelids prick with tears from the embarrassment you felt earlier, and Izuku tuts his tongue against his teeth, “Why’re you crying, pretty girl?”

You shake your head and he kneels forward to kiss you on the lips, chastely, “Or should I give you something to cry about?”

Before you can answer, he simultaneously lands a harsh slap to the inside of your thigh with one hand while pinning your neck to the pillow with the other, applying enough pressure that you wheeze. Izuku smirks down at you, watching as tears well up in your eyes and cause them to look like glassy marbles. He trails his fingertip along the inside of your thigh, your entire body quivering with the anticipation of when he will strike next.

His cock twitches within you and the movement makes your muscles jolt. Your hand smacks against his thigh as you dig your fingertips into the dense sinew. You breathe in heavily, your chest expanding, “Daddy, please.”

Izuku begins to rock back and forth slowly, dragging his cock salaciously along your inner walls, the veins and curves of his cock making your cunt flutter around his girth. You whine at the slow pace, your palms studying his skin as a distraction to keep your dirty mouth satiated. You want to beg him to go faster, to give you more friction, something, but you know better than to ask him for anything in this moment.

“If I’m Daddy,” he muses in your ear, his breath a hot wave of desire as it rolls down your neck to splay out at your shoulder, “then it’s only fair that we give you a name too, right, Princess?”

The suggestion he’s making sends a shiver down your spine and you clamp down on his cock as he slips all the way into you, the base of him flush with your lips. You grapple onto him for fear that he might pull out of you again, but you want him to be fully sheathed in you when he snarls out his next words.

In digging your nails into his skin, you find a new scar on his shoulder that you hadn’t noticed before. It is thin, just slight enough that it slipped from your radar. It is a single ridge of skin running from the back of his shoulder to his collarbone, streaking his skin with a pink color in contrast to his normally tan color. Your middle and index fingers focus on it, mapping out each bump like your life depends on it.

As his body tilts forward, your eyes catch along a patch of intense freckles at the tops of his shoulders, where the sun shines most concentrated. Your exhale, eyelids fluttering as you feel his weight press down into you the closer he comes. The palm of your hand travels to this smattering of freckles, digging into his muscles in a massaging way as you force your touch downward. Izuku’s breath hitches as you circle the pad of your middle finger tenderly over the flesh, eyelids snapping open so he can look down at you in something akin to shock.

He melts into your touch when your ankle digs into the dimples at the base of his back, yet another scar providing friction against your skin. You whimper as his hips buck forward on instinct alone, the pressure of your body pulling him forward.

Midoriya nudges his nose sweetly along the column of your throat, open-mouthed kisses placed against your main vein that leads him to your heart. He breathes slowly over your chest, nipping at the skin closest to your nipple, but far enough away that he won’t hurt you if he bites down too hard.

“Mm,” he hums as he dips his head further, curling his spine so he can kiss the top of your belly, above your navel. His palm pushes into the supple skin, thumb drifting over where your uterus sits beneath your skin, “I can’t wait to fuck you ‘till you’re full of me, Princess. Isn’t that what you want?”

You’re begging him silently with ferocious nods, dipping the pads of your fingers into his shoulder blades to pull him closer once more so he can rut into you with his strong hips. You feel the head of his cock brush against you from the inside, and that along with the added pressure of his palm pushing into you, makes you keen loudly, a whine rippling through your lungs.

At that sound, Izuku loses any and all control he might have had on his body before, one of his hands now holding your thigh up so he can dominate you from above, your ass not even flat against the mattress anymore. It’s a good reprieve from the suffocating heat beneath your back, but the only thing you can truly focus on is the way that his hips drive into you in midair, his knees bolstering him forward to fuck into you relentlessly.

“You’ll be so fuckin’ pretty with my come dripping out of this sloppy pussy,” Izuku’s voice is slurred with pleasure, his eyes closed as he ruts into you from above. You whine, your chin ducked into your chest at this angle, but it doesn’t matter that it’s slightly uncomfortable; the only thing you can pay attention to is the way he fills you up, stretching your pussy with his thick cock.

Pulling almost all the way out only to slam into you again makes your cunt clench when he’s fully sheathed to try and keep him captive. He’s too strong, though, and he pulls away easily, the added tension only providing the both of you with further pleasure. You both whine, Izuku’s head dropping so you can no longer see his eyes, forehead covered completely by dark curls caked with sweat and sticking to his skin.

Deku licks his lips and you watch as he tilts his head to gaze down at you, the primal need to see you full giving his eyes a deeper color, a green so dark it’s almost black. The sight of him so overcome with arousal makes your stomach turn, a fresh wave of heat coating your inner walls and slipping down his cock in the form of silvery slick.

He pants, his jaw hung open, “You want me to fill you up? Come in you over and over until you can’t take it anymore, until your pretty belly is bulging with my come?”

You don’t have the chance to respond when he bottoms out within you, stretching you out even further as his cock spasms with desire. It’s like he’s growing within you even more so now that he’s imagining your tummy swollen from his come. Your jaw hangs open even as you throw your head back, your hands flying to the comforter to snag what you can beneath your fingernails.

Izuku does not waste the sight of your neck, bare and open, practically begging for him to claim as his canvas. With his next stroke he is careening forward to latch his tongue and teeth onto the sensitive skin, your jugular pulsing beneath his mouth. Your hand flies upward to tug at the wild curls near the back of his scalp, your thighs held in place by his hips as he continues into you at a steady pace.

“I can’t wait to put a baby in you, Princess,” Izuku is panting in your ear now, the lewd sounds of his hips bucking into yours the only other sound you can make out. Your shoulders shudder underneath his weight but he is holding you like an anchor, so you know that you are safe in his embrace. You turn your head, so your cheek is pressing into his, leeching the heat from his skin until your own flesh is burning.

“Fuck,” Deku laps at your throat aimlessly, as if he can’t quite get where he wants, but he doesn’t know what else to do, “Gonna fill you up every time I get the chance, breed you until you’re begging for me to stop. Pump that pretty pussy full of my come until you can’t walk straight.”

Your cunt spasms around his cock and he knows that means you’re close to coming. He’s pushed off his own release in favor of coming in tandem with you, so he starts to pump into you faster, drifting a hand down to your clit to try and stimulate you closer to the precipice of pleasure. You’re whining, nails dragging against his biceps unforgivingly, “Daddy, c’mon, I want you to come in me. Please, won’t you come in me? Fuck me full of your come, please!”

The entirety of your mouth is sandpaper dry with your insistent begging. You lick your lips at the feel of his cock spasming within your core, the tip of him brushing against your cervix in a bruising manner. “I-I wanna make you a Daddy for real, please, won’t you put a baby in me?”

A feral growl parts his lips at your request, and your body clenches from head to toe at the sound. You can’t breathe, your entire being is suffocated by the essence of him – body, mind, soul. He is everything and it covers you like a hot blanket, searing into your skin until you’re branded for him.

“You want this load?” he asks breathlessly. “Want me to breed you up good?”

He is barely able to look at you when you whimper out your response. Goosebumps cover the expanse of his body as he thinks about what you’d look like, swollen with the imminent promise of his baby growing in you. Something digs into him at the base of his spine, something that makes him ache with the need to see you waddling around, unable to see your ankles as you rest your palm on the top of your tummy. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut so he can listen to your wanton desperation, sweat making the two of you stick together at every juncture.

Deku grunts one last time before all his resolve floods from his body, “Here you go, Princess, don’t waste it.”

The angle he has your body in, folded up like a pretzel, would usually make it hard for you to waste any of it, but the sheer amount of come being pumped into you makes you nervous. You feel the familiar seeping of his seed from your cunt and you reach down to try and sop it up, but Izuku beats you to it. He uses his thumb to collect the milky fluid, rubbing it over your clit to use as lubricant as his dick continues to pump the rest of his load into your abused hole.

“Good girl,” he whispers absentmindedly as he fucks you through his aftershocks, the pad of his thumb driving you crazy as you squirm beneath him. Izuku can tell by the sheer force with which you’re clamped down on him that you’re chasing your own high, your eyes squinted closed so you can focus on orgasming until you’ve coated his cock with your arousal.

Izuku fights through the bliss that’s clouding his mind to lean down and kiss over your face, “C’mon, Princess, come for me.”

When your eyes split open, the first thing you notice is the scar that cuts from his hairline down over his eyebrow, separating the tail of his brow from the base. You reach up to brush your fingertip over it, your heels dug into the curve of his ass to bring yourself closer to him, if that were at all possible. Your mouth hangs open as your thumb maps out the scar, ragged flesh the very opposite of the remaining smooth plane of his body.

“I love you,” you whisper, silent silver tears leaking from your eyes as the combination of all of your senses being stimulated pushes you over the crest, drowning you in the waves of pleasure he creates by rocking into you.

It has taken years for Izuku to understand that you paying attention to the jagged parts of his body does not mean that you would not love him if he were any less broken.

Your vision passes over each inch of his body, taking inventory of the markings on his body – freckles, blemishes, scars – as if they might have changed since the last time you looked. Your hands roam over his shoulders, finding the pale scars and dipping your fingertips against them to feel the ridges against the rough pad of your digits.

Midoriya melds his mouth against yours, lost in the taste of you as his cock spasms within your tight heat. Your entire bodies are coated in a mixture of tears and sweat and slick, but you don’t care as he lowers himself down on top of you until you’re flush with one another from shoulder to ankle.

His tongue is mapping the curvatures of your teeth when he responds in kind, “I love you, too.”

He slows once he realizes you’ve both been milked of whatever else you might have left to give. Your body is gently placed back down on the bed, hot sweat sticking to the cooled sheets. Izuku kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, lavishing each inch with the utmost affection, it could make you cry.

Your hands work through his hair, curls falling silkily between your knuckles. You lean forward and kiss the spot on his forehead where his brows are furrowed. At the feel of your affections, his expression softens and the creases on his skin soften into nothing but fine lines. Izuku smiles up at you, nuzzling your cheek, “You did so good, baby, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm, you make it easy,” you croon into the shell of his ear as he tilts himself forward, still buried in you even as his cock goes soft. You tilt your head, curling a finger around a lock of his hair, “W-Were you serious?”

Izuku catches a glint of the diamond on your left hand, a proud grin bringing out his dimples, “You’ll know in, what, four weeks?”

The whole thing is too exciting, and you know that even though you’re still on contraceptives, it could happen. He doesn’t move to correct himself, instead waiting on your answer.

“F-Four weeks,” you nod, your tongue sitting heavy and dry in between your teeth.

Midoriya catches your hesitation, “We won’t change anything, except how many times a day I bury my cock into that pretty little pussy of yours. We’ll see if I can beat out the statistics on your medication.”

You know he’s talking about the one-in-whatever chance that your birth control doesn’t work, but the way he says it drags shivers up your spine. You curl both hands into his hair and swallow the thick emotion pent up in your throat, “You meant what you said?”

“Four weeks,” he echoes as if it should be an answer. Izuku knows better than to have a permanent conversation with you when your eyes are still glassy like this, your mind still submerged in that headspace he puts you in when the two of you fuck this way, rough and merciless. All he can do now is remember to talk to you about this once you’re both calm and rational.

Your eyes fill with a fresh set of tears and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the base of your throat, “I’m gonna fill you up with so much come, baby. We might have to get you a plug.”

You tighten every orifice of your body, fingers dug deeper into the muscle of his shoulders. Your thumb catches on the curve of one of his particularly deep scars, slicing into him like veins on a marble slab. In your heightened state, it’s easy to feel like you’re floating in midair and might never come down, but the tactile reminder of his body beneath your fingertips gives you that anchor that you need to keep yourself from drifting too far.

Methodically, you drift the pads of your digits back and forth, a melody playing in your head that you play out against his body. The rigidity of his form, strong and barring as he loiters over you, only adds to the calm that you feel wash over your frame, settling into your bones like stardust. You feel lightheaded, but in a giddy way, the warmth of Midoriya’s body just as soothing as the patterns you’re marking into his body.

Two tears drip over the edges of your eyes and you look up at him, bringing a thumb up to brush his hair out of his eyes, “I-I wanna make you a Daddy. For real.”

You think back to the day you first met – how he stole your heart with one simple look. He has always been it for you, that you now realize. From the first syllable to now, he has reigned you in, held you beneath his thumb in such a captivating way that you don’t ever want to escape.

You want to give back to him what the world never could – a little hero of his own.

It’s a blank slate, a place to start anew. Something that the burdens of Izuku’s past can never bury under layers of scar tissue and regret. The giddiness that makes your heartbeat in a frenzy only gives you more confidence to reach forward and wrap yourself around him like an animal begging for comfort. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, “You deserve this, Izu, you deserve to be happy.”

“Hey,” he calls down to you, upturning your face with the gentle pressure of his thumb underneath your chin, “I am happy, here with you.”

Your face grows hot at his confession, and you wonder if you misconstrued your words. You swallow, rolling your hips upward to reconnect your bodies at the waist, trying to convey that you can give him so much more, that you’re offering up your body to be a martyr. Your eyes water as you link your hands around his neck, thumbing at the crest of his undercut.

“Please,” you whisper, voice broken but beautiful as your single syllable speaks volumes even in the quiet of your shared bedroom.

There is a growl that erupts in his throat and he lunges forward, sucking and licking at your neck. You whimper, falling slack in his touch as you try to keep yourself anchored to him with biting, blunt fingernails. Your jaw hangs open just enough that he can see the pink of your tongue if he leans far enough back.

As Deku reclaims your mouth in his own, the primal thing burning deep in his belly spurring his cock to go for round two, he can’t help but think to himself that he’s going to make you a momma, no matter how hard he has to try, or how long it takes.

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“Why are you so enamored by them?”

You still your hand over his bare chest, your index finger tracing the ridge of one of his biggest scars – a rippling cut straight through his pectoral, the tip of it disappearing in the curve of his muscles as they meet in the middle.

When you don’t answer, Izuku swallows the lump in his throat and sits up a little straighter, leaning his shoulders back against the headboard. He looks down his nose at you, shallow breaths making his chest inflate quickly, “I guess I just don’t understand what could be so fascinating about them. Why do you like to touch them all the time?”

You turn so you are strewn across his abdomen, your chin rested in the seam of his pectorals as you look up at him, “I guess they make me feel things.”

“F-Feel things?” Izuku’s face scrunches up in confusion, the wrinkles of his nose making you smile.

Tenderly, you brush your thumb over the creases of his forehead until he relaxes, and then you start mapping out the scarred lines on his face and taking inventory of his freckled cheeks. You sigh, chewing on your lower lip, “It depends on what’s going on, but when I look at you, I feel any plethora of things – sadness, joy, horniness…”

“My scars make you horny?”

You let out a laugh and drop your forehead down and bury it in his chest to hide the blush on your cheeks. Your palm falls from his face to his collarbone, gripping his shoulder as best you can. Midoriya joins you in laughter, tucking his nose into the crown of your head so he can plant kisses into your hair. He is always so soft and kind with you, especially in these moments after you’ve been conjoined by the hips for hours on end, your heart beating in time with his as you lay pressed flush against one another. There are moments when you are a cage of limbs and you do not know where he ends and you begin, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Seeing you all roughed up just does something to me, I dunno!” You tilt your head back so you can look him in the eye, “I like knowing that you can handle yourself, and each scar has a story and we’ve been together for years and I still don’t think I’ve heard them all.”

It looks like there is something on his mind, with the way his face tenses up as soon as you stop laughing together. You rub your ankle against his calf and force him to look you in the eyes with a gentle nudging of your knuckle against his jawline, “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

Izuku is not normally speechless or lacking in things to say. In fact, more often than not, you have to gently place your hand on his shoulder to remind him that everyone can hear his loud mutterings, or that sometimes there are more appropriate times to speak your mind. This time, his tongue lolls around within his cheeks as he tries to come up with the right thing to say.  The pattering of your heart grows faster the longer he is silenced, your pulse thudding like thunder in your ears as you anticipate what could possibly be plaguing his mind at a time like this.

Your thumb brushes against a scar near his ear and he circles his fingers around your wrist, “Would you still love me if I didn’t have them? If my skin was perfect, like Kacchan or Todoroki?”

“First of all, Todoroki has a big ass scar on his face, so jot that down,” you tease, pushing yourself up to kiss him square on the lips. You pull away from him but not entirely, still brushing your nose along the bridge of his cheeks, “And Bakugou has a stupid quirk that gives him great skin, so he’s an awful example.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes and shoves your hand away from his face, sitting up even further so you fall away from him, curling yourself into the sheets. His countenance looks overly contemplative, and it’s beginning to worry you. You sit up in the bed, grabbing his shirt off the nightstand to cover yourself with, tossing it over your head with ease. The fabric pools at your waist but it smells intoxicating, just like him, his warmth from earlier in the night somehow still sticking to the fabric to provide you comfort.

“You know what I mean,” he grits his teeth, unable to look at you as he poses the question, “I-I just…I wonder if you love them more than you love me, sometimes, is all.”

It does not take long for you to redirect his attention back to you, turning his face with a rough yank of your wrist. You look him in the eyes, and he is but a broken little boy in this moment, begging for you to piece him back together.

The thought that he is nothing more than patchwork put back together by the scars on his body makes you feel hollow inside. How can a man who has given up so much feel like so small in a moment of pure reflection? Does he not see all the good he brings to the world, and yet how little it ever dares to give back to him?

“Izuku Midoriya,” your voice is stern, and you watch as he bolsters his spine as if he were talking to a Pro Hero, “I would love you if your whole body was covered in scars or if you had perfect skin. Why would you say something like that?”

Before he can give you some long-winded answer, you throw a leg across his lap so you’re straddling him and he has nowhere to run to, nowhere to divert his attention. Your palms are on his face, cupping his cheeks and making sure to look him dead in the eyes as you give him a dose of the truth. Still, you fear your words may not be enough to satiate his wounded pride, his blistered ego.

“When I look at you, I see how much the universe has stolen from you, how much of your body the world has taken, and how everyone else just takes you for granted.” Your voice grows heavier with each word, the threat of tears sitting in your eyelids, making your face warm. “I see a man who, time and time again, gives everything up to save the world, and all it does in return is take.”

You intake a short breath, trying to calm yourself because this is his moment to ache until his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. Now it is your job to soothe his burning soul with the salve of your reassurance, mending his inner turmoil with a metaphoric touch that you pray can seep into the cracks of his resolve until he’s full once more.

Brushing his hair away from his face, you lean in closer so you can speak softly, “You once called them ugly. I think that every single scar is a reminder of something that happened in the past. I love to hear your stories of how you got them, each heroic act displayed on your body like a little lightning bolt of truth.”

A sigh parts your lips and you drop your gaze to his chest, finding the familiar ridges of flayed skin easily. You lick your lip and trace your thumb over a few of them, relishing in the quiet moments before you have to speak again.

“I don’t love your scars, I love you.” You press your palms flat to his chest so you can cover the expanse of his pectorals beneath your hands, the heel of your palm against the swell of his chest, “I would ask you for all of your stories even if I never touched a single scar, even if I never saw one. I’d ask you because I want to know you.”

Your hands travel north towards his neck, delicately roaming over the thin skin of his throat before winding into the hair at the back of his head, “I’m so fascinated by them because I want you to know that I don’t think any less of you for them, that I don’t believe you to be weak just because you’re marked by your experiences. If anything, I think it’s beautiful, that you’ve been given this burden like Atlas, to carry around the weight of each on one your shoulders.

“But even though it’s beautiful, that does not mean that it’s right,” your voice turns cold, hard and jagged as you speak through your teeth, “How much more can you be expected to give? Does the universe not see what it’s done to you? What it’s asking of you to continue doing? I just can’t imag-oh.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his hands traveling up your spine beneath your shirt, palming at the skin of your shoulders. Izuku nips your lower lip and you are melting in his touch like always, “I love you.”

You tilt your head, gasping as he starts down the column of your neck, biting kisses in a warm, wet line as he descends. You echo out the sentiment in return, barely able to make out syllables with the salacious way his lips and tongue are working at your skin. Your hands twist in his hair and he pulls you flush with him so he can nudge the collar of the shirt aside to show your collarbones the same attention as your neck.

“Oh!” you pipe up, your voice hardly more than a squeak, “And I love your freckles too. They’re so cute and I love how they’re literally everywhere, even your dic-”

“Less talking,” Izuku takes you by surprise, tackling you back into the mattress, “more kissing.”

And you happily oblige.

Besides, you have the rest of your life to tell him how much you love his freckles.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

a/n: all right. that’s it. never writing deku fic EVER again. phew. kacchan, please don’t be mad, honey, it was for a friend, i swear!!!!!

also it’s almost 4 am when i’m posting this so if the last section doesn’t make sense i’m sORRY!!!

taglist: 

@tui-lah @viviankennedy @bnha-homeroom @frogsmarch @anxietys-a-bitch @succulent-momma @albuquerquemalu @ali-on-reverie @iamthe-leaf @kamehamethot @hoe-biscus @ux-l3ee @lovelustdollsworld @bigbootyconnections @alexandria-selina @eianthedumbass @sanguinekeigo @desia2 @loveydoveythot @shoutosplaything @thatloserweeb @kittysocks20 @jayetheanimefreek101 @toastedpopsicles @riotfuckery @spidrskarma @panbaigel @unsafetypin @peltho @mes-bisous @ee-blue @mildlyman @moondust-and-starlight @ihaileysenpai @hijackedreese @vampiregirl70 @gwizzpanda @powderedjellidoughnut @salemthewitch​ @unknown-girlie​ @mea-100​ @crystal-is-in-the-digiworld​ @phantomjeans​ @lozmarton​ @bananayogurtbitch​ @wwhndsome​ @violeteyedkeith​ @pumapurman​ @stfucanunot​

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku smut #deku smut #deku x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #izuku x you #midoriya x you #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #morgan writes bnha #my writing

[arcturusreads]

Hi are you still accepting prompts? if you do here’s one: Hayes doing something special for Meredith’s birthday.. No pressure though take your time writing you are such a great writer💕

Celebrate - Merhayes

Thank you so much, that means the world! Hope you enjoy x

Meredith Grey had never been one to celebrate her birthday. Ellis had never bothered with birthday parties for her little girl, the day was never made a fuss out of. By the time Meredith had moved out and one to college, she didn’t see the point in celebrating it. It was only after meeting Derek that her own birthday began to have special memories attached to it. He’d pestered her for months about when her birthday was and was mortified when she at last told him and had found out that he was two months late. The date was now permanently etched into his brain and he made sure that regardless of how lowkey the celebration might be, Meredith would always celebrate another turn around the Sun. Ferry boats, dinners and long drives had become the tradition and Meredith found herself looking forward to it.

Since her husband’s passing though, Meredith had stopped bothering again. Whilst she made sure she went all out for her kids, she would stop her sisters and friends from doing anything that resembled celebration for her. Maggie had put her foot down and yelled when Meredith tried not to accept the present that’d been gifted to her though. Her kids would bake her a cake with the help of their aunt’s, with homemade cards and presents and Meredith thought it was perfect. That was all she needed for her birthday. That and a good surgery.

After six months of dating Meredith and having celebratedhis own birthday with her, Cormac was beginning to get curious as to when Meredith’s was. When he had asked her once before she just laughed it off, saying that he would have to find out himself. So, he’d een on a hunt to figure it out. It seemed that Meredith had briefed the entire hospital staff on not letting him know her birthday.

Hie’d asked both Amelia and Maggie multiple times but neither of them would let up. Amelia seemed to enjoy watching Cormac’s torture over not knowing the date whlst Maggie seemed pained that she couldn’t say anything, reminding Cormac every time he asked that she was not willing to face her sister’s wrath .

Cormac and Maggie were stoof across each other in the OR when he tried one more time. “You know, I wouldn’t let her find out that you told me…”

Maggie knew exactly what he was on about without having to ask. She just shook her head as she continued to work. “I’m the first person Meredith would come to if she found out that you knew. She knows that I’m terrible at keeping secrets. Remember when you two told me you were dating.”

It had be pure tiorture for Maggie not to say anything to anyone else. She was fit to burst with happiness for her sister but she hadn’t been allowed to say a word for three months. She’d spent way too much time ranting to Ameliia about why she wasn’t able to understand the reason that Cormac and Meredith wasnted to keep their relationship a secret. When the couple had finally told everyone, Maggie had felt a weight lift off of her shoulders and Meredith wsa pleasantly surprised at how well her sister was actually able to keep a secret.

“Why are you so desperate to know about her birthday, anyway?”

Cormac gave her a flat look, “She’s my girlfriend, Pierce. I feel like it’s something that I should know.”

“It’s not like you’re going to be able to do anything with the information. You know that she doesn’t like to celebrate.”

Cormac gave her a knowing look, “That’s because you’ve always given her an option.”

After a touch-and-go surgery, Cormac headed up to his office to grab some files before a consult. As he stepped into room, he felt shoe slid against something on the floor. Not the usual grip the carpet would give him. Looking down, he saw a small sheet of paper. As he picked it up to take it to the bin he saw some writing on it.

‘September 19th but I didn’t tell you -M’

Cormac smiled, he owed Maggie big time. Making a mental note of the date, Cormac knew it wasn’t one that he would forget anytime soon, he scrunched up the paper and tossed it into the bin. Plans began to form in his mind as he went about his day. He had two weeks and that was more than enough.

***

When September 19th rolled around, Meredith was treated to breakfast in bed courtesy of her kids with a side of birthday cake. Meredith arched a brow at the cake and looked at Amelia who just shrugged.

“It’s your birthday, you can have cake at 7am!” She defended quickly as the kids crawled up on the bed next to Meredith.

After opening her cards and presents and sending the kids off to school, Mer headed straight to the hospital. She had a whipple at 9 AM that she was looking forward and a fully booked day of surgeries after that. There was nothing more that she could have wanted for the day.

The entire day had gone by and Meredith thought it was strange that she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her boyfriend. Even on their most busy days, they would end up finding time to at least have a coffee together but he hadn’t even messaged her. A younger Meredith would have worried that something had gone wrong, that he was angry with her for some unknown reason but these days, she was able to be a little more rational, if not completely. He must just be busy with consults and surgeries, or maybe the boys had something on that had slipped her mind when he mentioned it. Whilst Cormac didn’t know it was her birthday and she wasn’t planning on celebrating, it would have been nice to see him for a minute.

After getting changed back into her street clothes and grabbing her bag, Meredith made her way out of the hospital, ready to get home. She was a few steps away from her car when she felt a arm slip around her waist and a kiss pressed onto her temple.

“Sorry I haven’t had a chance to see you today,” Cormac’s Irish lilt immediately ebbed away any tiredness she had been feeling as she leaned into his side. “Forgot I had a meeting with Bailey this morning and then had back-to-back surgeries.”

Meredith took a second to breath in familiar scent of her boyfriend. It never failed to make her feel safe. “Was everything okay?”

“Mostly, got a 10-year-old boy in the ICU right now but Schmitt will page me if anything happens.”

Meredith suddenly realised that during the course of the conversation, Cormac had veered them away from her car. “Uh, my car is back there.”

Cormac have a light squeeze to her waist, “I know but I haven’t had a chance to see you today so let me take you home.”

“My car though…” She trailed off, not really bothering to put up a fight. Meredith had missed him wasn’t going to say no to being able to spend a little time with him on the drive home.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and you can take it home after your shift.”

“As long as you don’t mind…”

Cormac rolled his eyes at her, smiling, “I wouldn’t offer if I did, come on.”

As Cormac drove away from the hospital, Meredith leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a minute. She slowly opened them as she felt Cormac’s hand rest on her thigh and gave him a smile.

“Wait, where are we going?” Meredith looked out the window to realise that this wasn’t the usual route home.

Cormac grinned at her quickly before looking back at the road, “Just thought we would take a detour.”

“A detour where?” She asked, slightly sceptical.

When Cormac didn’t reply, she decided to continue pressing for answers. “You know I have kids at home? Alone, right now?”

“Well, I know that’s a lie because I saw Winston before he left two hours ago who said he was going to your house to keep an eye on the kids.”

“Hmm…” Meredith both admired and hated how Cormac had an answer for everything. It was infuriating at the best of times but he was one of the only people she knew that could match her toe-for-toe.

After a while, Meredith saw that they were out of the city limits. “You know, if you don’t want to be with you just have to say, no need to drive me into the middle of nowhere to kill me and dump the body.”

“Oh ha ha,” Cormac laughed drily, “Like you would ever make it easy for me to kill you anyway….”

Meredith smirked at him, a wicked glint in her eye, “As long as you know.”

The car had now left the main road, and trundled along a dirt road, the only source of light coming from the headlights of the car. Meredith had no clue where they were or what was going on.

“Seriously, Cormac, where are we going?”

“Seriously, Meredith,” he jokingly mocked, “Can you be quiet?”

“Fine,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

It wasn’t later when Cormac turned the car engine off and turned to Meredith. “Come on,” he jumped out of the car and jogged over to her side to open the door.

Taking his hand to step out, she looked around. “Whe-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” He grinned at her, stopping Meredith before she had the chance to say anything else. “Just trust me.”

Meredith let Cormac take her hand and guide her. She wasn’t entirely sure how he could even tell where he was going in the dark.

“Are you taking me up a hill?”

Her question found no answer and all that there was left for her to do was to huff out a breath and follow Cormac. Eventually she saw some light up at the top of the hill and squinted, trying to make out what was going on. When they were finally close enough to make out what was going on, Meredith stopped in her track to take everything in. Trees were sparsely dotted around with fairy lights hanging from all of them. In the middle was a black pickup truck. The bed of it was covered with pillows and blankets with a picnic basket nested in the middle. Stretched between two trees was a canvas sheet, projected on it were the opening credits for ‘Maid in Manhattan’, one of the few movies that Meredith was able to time and time again.

“What is all this?” She turned to look at Cormac who had a sheepish look on his face.

“Happy birthday, Meredith,” his voice was a gentle whisper.

“You did this for my birthday?”

“Look, I know you don’t like celebrating it and I know you really didn’t want me to know but,” Cormac rubbed the top of his head, “You’ve survived so much, Meredith Grey, and that deserves to be celebrated. I deserve to have the chance to celebrate you. So, you can’t yell at me about this.”

Meredith stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around her neck, “How can I argue with that?” She grinned at him before pulling him in for a kiss.

#merhayes #meredith grey #cormac hayes #cormac x meredith #mcwidow #grey's anatomy #excuse me whilst i rearrange the alphabet

[heartlessfujoshi]

*Gently caresses you with a butternut squash* my darling. How much must I pay for a fushiguro x itaodri fic?

You don’t have to pay me anything!!! (BUT WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID SO YOU FAILED :V) I would be more than happy to write these two for you. <3 I hope you’ll like what I came up with, friendo. 

Title: ‘Monsoon Season’ Fandom: JJK Pairing: ItaFushi (Fushiguro Megumi x Itadori Yuuji) Rating: Mature ( Mild Smut and Feels) Word Count: ~2,580 Summary: Monsoon season has arrived in Tokyo, which brings an abundance of humidity that Megumi can’t stand. Yuuji, however, has the best cure to beat the heat - eat some ice cream. 

***

“Let’s go get some ice cream!” 

Megumi looked at Yuuji with a blank stare. “What. Why?” He shook his head, not interested in anything sweet right now. 

“Because it’s a bajillion degrees outside right now?” Yuuji fanned himself, as if that was going to make a difference at the awful humidity that was plaguing Tokyo right now. Monsoon season was here, and while it wasn’t raining today, it sure felt like it was with how thick the air was. “Why do we need an excuse to eat ice cream? You should be able to eat ice cream any time. I mean it - morning, noon, night - doesn’t matter. Ice cream is top tier food.” 

“It’s not food.” The more Yuuji was ranting about it, the more he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to convince Yuuji that they didn’t need it. Sighing, he put his notes away and looked over at his friend, who he could see was already smiling as he knew what he was about to say. “Fine. Let’s go get some ice cream - but not because you want to.” 

“You don’t want any!” Megumi stepped back as Yuuji jumped up from where he was sitting. “I don’t want to share any of my ice cream with you.” 

“Then don’t.” He rolled his eyes, but turned his head to hide a small smile. Yuuji’s attitude was quite infectious, even when he didn’t want it to be. “Come on - there’s a place up the road that serves pretty good soft serve.” 

“Ooooo - look at you, knowing where to get the good stuff!” Yuuji laughed, then started to walk ahead of him. “Which way was it?” 

Megumi pointed his finger towards the west. “How about you let me lead us there.” 

“Okay, okay! Sorry, Fushiguro.” His friend bowed his head as if actually humbly apologizing to him. He’d definitely been spending too much time around Gojou-sensei if he was acting like this already. “Let me buy yours, okay? To make up for it?” 

“First you said you don’t want to share, and now you’re saying you want to treat me.” Megumi pushed his hands into his pockets, even though it was sweltering outside. He really hated when the humidity spiked as it could be unbearable at times. “I have money. I can buy my own ice cream.” 

“That you didn’t even want.” 

“That I didn’t even want.” He smiled as he listened to Yuuji laugh. 

They hadn’t had to fight any sort of curses the last few days, and it had been nice to relax a little. He knew it wouldn’t always be like this - but he was going to take it for what it was worth. Looking over at Yuuji, he could see him kicking a stone along the sidewalk, keeping it rolling as they walked. He didn’t stop until they came to a stop in front of the ice cream shop. “Whoa!” Yuuji exclaimed, clearly excited by what he saw. “This place is cool!” 

“I hope so, because I don’t really want to have sugary soup.” Megumi’s joke fell flat as he opened the door, and felt a blast of cold air hit him, making him sigh in relief. Maybe coming to get ice cream hadn’t been such a bad idea. “Let’s get some?” 

“Yeah!” 

Putting in their orders took a little bit of time, as there were multiple choices that neither of them could really choose what they truly wanted. Megumi finally decided on a chocolate vanilla swirl cone that was dipped in chocolate, and then saw Yuuji get an all chocolate with the ice cream dipped in a caramel sauce that hardened as the air hit it. He wound up paying for the both of them, and then they sat at a little table for two to enjoy their treat, not wanting it to melt which it surely would have done if they went outside and ate it. 

“This was a good idea.” He commented, taking long licks of his treat, his mound of ice cream now down to where the cone began. 

“Sometimes I have them.” Yuuji grinned, his mouth saturated in caramel and chocolate. Megumi reached for a napkin, and passed it to him. “Oh, thank you.” Patting his mouth, Yuuji went back to licking his cone, Megumi’s eyes struggling not to stare as the long tongue swiped up the frozen treat. “Fushiguro - your ice cream is melting.” 

Crap. He took a look at his hand and saw that his fingers were now covered in the melted chocolate that his ice cream had been dipped in. He carefully licked them off and saw Yuuji watching him. It wasn’t too difficult to notice the flush that appeared on his face, Megumi experiencing the same sort of embarrassment as he stopped licking his fingers and instead opted to use a napkin. Stupid, shouldn’t have done that. He wiped the rest off with what felt like sandpaper against his skin, then resumed eating, avoiding any sort of eye contact with Yuuji. 

The sweet treat was gone too soon. Megumi suggested they leave before they were kindly asked to leave, even though he really didn’t want to vacate from the glorious air conditioning. Yuuji agreed, and they found themselves walking back to the dormitory together. 

“Shower?” Yuuji asked, as they stood in front of their doors. “Meet you back out in the common area?” 

“Guess so.” 

“Or, we could go and find a public pool?” 

Megumi shook his head. “No, it’s probably better if we stay here. What if we wind up finding a curse?” 

“Good point.” Yuuji waved, then opened his door. “See ya later!” 

He wanted to say something else, wanted to spend a little more time with Yuuji, but the words wouldn’t come. His shoulders dropped as he started to open his own dorm room. It was nice to know that Yuuji was right next door, but it was also sort of bad because he felt guilty about doing certain activities with him in such close proximity. Not that it mattered - he didn’t really have any drive to do those sorts of things right now. He had to focus on becoming a good jujutsu sorcerer, and that took up more energy than anything else. 

Taking a cold shower offered little relief to his overheated body, the cicadas screaming loudly outside his window. The air felt damper than it had outside, and it was making him feel miserable. Keeping only a towel wrapped around his waist, he went back to his bedroom and decided that it was too hot to do much of anything. Picking up his phone, he sent a text to Yuuji. “I’m staying in my room. Too hot. Might nap.” 

“Want a napping buddy?” 

Yuuji always had a knack for asking crazy things that always made Megumi second guess himself. Like right now. What was he supposed to say? Yes? No? If he said yes, would that mean that Yuuji would come to his room and sleep next to him? He wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with knowing how close he was. Never mind how gross it was in his room - add another body to this oppressive heat and it was bound to end in failure. But before he could really second guess himself, he began to type an answer to his friend. 

“Sure.” 

That meant he was going to have to put underwear on. Megumi shuddered as he grabbed a pair from his dresser and put them on, keeping his damp towel draped over his shoulder. A quick knock on the door had him walking over to it, and pulled it open. “Hey.” He greeted Yuuji, feeling his pulse quicken as he walked into his room. 

“Here’s hoping we can sleep, huh? It’s so hot.” Yuuji complained, but didn’t sound all too bothered by it. “Your bed is so much bigger than mine!” 

“What? No, it’s not. They’re all the same size.” Megumi set his towel over the chair tucked into his study table, then went over to the bed and sat on the left side. “Your bed is the exact same size, Itadori.” 

“No way. Yours looks so much bigger.” The bed bounced as Yuuji dropped down onto it, now stripped out of his clothes and only wearing underwear. “I hope if I snore it won’t bug you too much.” 

Snorting, he fluffed his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “I doubt you will.” Yes, he had no doubts that Yuuji would bug him because he knew as soon as Yuuji was laying next to him he was not going to nap. The heat from his body wasn’t too noticeable, but just the fact that he was mere inches away from his own body was the cause of his current anxiety. Too close. Not close enough. Both of these thoughts occurred simultaneously in his mind as he tried to keep a calm and cool exterior. 

“You sleeping?” Yuuji asked about ten minutes later. 

“I guess you’re not either?” Megumi asked. 

“It’s weird, right? I was super tired in my room, but now it seems like my head won’t shut off.” A hand touched his wrist, Megumi freezing as Yuuji’s fingers landed right on his pulsepoint. He felt Yuuji’s fingers slide down to his hand, and without really thinking much about it, he flipped his hand over so that their palms could touch. “Tell me I’m not crazy, Megumi.” 

“You are, though.” He smirked, hating how his heart seemed to skip a beat when he heard Yuuji call him by his first name. Their fingers were now laced together, palms glued together from the humidity. Or maybe Yuuji was feeling the same kind of anxiety he was feeling, but he somehow doubted that. “Certifiable.” 

“Shush.” Yuuji rolled onto his side, Megumi doing the same so that they could look at each other. More screeching from the cicadas could be heard outside, but the noise seemed to fade into a white hum as his eyes locked onto Yuuji’s auburn ones. “Don’t be so mean to me, Megumi.” 

“Can’t help it.” It was an easy thing to tease Yuuji, but right now it didn’t feel like it was bad teasing. Their hands were still stuck together, Megumi refusing to think about how close their hands were to a certain body part. He kept his eyes on Yuuji, unable to tear them away. “You know I’m not being mean, right?” 

“I know.” He could smell a hint of caramel on Yuuji’s breath, wondering if his own smelled like chocolate still. Yuuji took his hand away, finally, and then he felt it touch his hip. It felt like ice touched him, gasping softly at the quick touch that soon disappeared as it seemed he had the wrong reaction. “Sorry.” 

Not wanting him to apologize again, Megumi did what he thought would be best. 

He kissed Yuuji. 

The kiss was quick, almost as quick as the touch Yuuji’s fingers had made on his hip before they retracted so fast that Megumi had to do what he was doing. By some miracle his lips had found Yuuji’s, and with a quick peck he pulled his head back. But then something came over him, and he returned his lips to Yuuji’s and kissed him again. And again. They kept kissing until their mouths were joined together, their tongues somehow finding a way to touch and caress each other in a way that Megumi had only seen in movies before. The humidity no longer seemed to be bothering him as he kept kissing Yuuji, his body moving on its own as he laid on top of him. 

Megumi wanted to ask if this was okay, but lacked the motor function to do so. He felt Yuuji roll hsi hips, which told him that yes - this was okay, and gave a small roll of his own hips to match him. He could feel how hard Yuuji was, his own erection becoming somewhat painful, but then that annoyance went away as Yuuji kept rolling his hips. It was easy to find a rhythm that seemed to work for the both of them, their breaths becoming a bit more labored as they started to chase after that pleasure one got when engaging in a sexual activity. 

His knees pushed into the bed, his lips coming back to Yuuji’s as their kisses became somewhat frantic, both of them bucking their hips as they got closer and closer to an orgasm. Megumi pushed his face up against Yuuji’s, groaning low as he felt himself start to come, his underwear becoming damp with his release. He felt Yuuji shudder underneath him, and then felt another wet spot appear on his underwear as he knew Yuuji had found his own happy ending. 

“Let me get my towel.” Megumi pressed a kiss to Yuuji’s lips, then peeled himself off of him. His underwear was damp in two very distinctive spots. Grabbing his towel, he quickly wiped himself off, then tossed it to Yuuji to let him clean himself up. Once they were both done, he dropped the towel and returned to laying on his side, looking into Yuuji’s eyes. “Happy?” 

“Unbelievably so.” Yuuji grinned, and nodded his head. “But hey, there’s one thing.” 

He looked at Yuuji, whose face was becoming paler and paler, the markings under his eyes looking more pronounced now. Megumi’s tongue wouldn’t work, the ability to speak somehow disappearing from him as he saw a trickle of blood start to leave the corner of Yuuji’s mouth. Looking down, he saw that there was a gaping hole in his chest, panic now reigning supreme in his mind as he was stuck unable to do anything about it. 

“Live a long life, okay?” 

***

Those words rang in Megumi’s ears as he sat up with a sharp gasp of breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest as his hair stuck to his face. It was almost two in the morning, the memories of a time when he’d been happy somehow turning into his everyday nightmare. It took a bit for his breathing to return to normal, and once it did, he got up from his bed and walked over to the window. 

The cicadas were no longer screaming, the humidity long gone from the air, the monsoon season done for the year. Reaching up, he held his hand over his chest and sighed. He hated that Yuuji was gone. He was trying his best to live, but it wasn’t easy without him around. He carried this unbelievable sadness with him everywhere he went. Having to witness the person that had somehow stolen his own heart be murdered by the strongest curse in existence - that was a pain that was constantly with him. Every night he would have these wonderful dreams that were memories of his time with Yuuji, and then the memory of what his reality was would corrupt those dreams, and force him awake. 

“I’m trying, Yuu.” He put his hand right over the same spot where Sukuna had torn out Yuuji’s heart. “I promise, I’m trying for you.” 

Making peace with his mind, Megumi returned to bed where he fell asleep fast, this time with no dreams or memories haunting him. Just a perfect blankness that gave him a few hours of peace. And tomorrow, he would wake up with little recollection of the nightmare and carry on with his new, somewhat less colorful life now that Yuuji was gone. 

XxX

Cross-posted to AO3

#itafushi #my writing #fanfic #jjk #lavendartwine #THANKS FOR THE REQUEST MY FRIEND ;A; #Anonymous

[hockeylvr59]

It Started with a DM || Jake Debrusk

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Just another little something that demanded to be written. I was honestly debating on whether or not to write it and then JD went live today and obviously it was a sign.

Warnings: features quarantine as a setting, some cursing. 

Word Count: 3,828

~~~~~~~~~

Being quarantined alone was well, to put it simply, lonely. As a freelance photographer, you were for the most part out of work. You didn’t have a significant other to keep you company, there wasn’t space at your parents’ for you to go home, and your apartment didn’t allow pets. On top of all of that, sports were canceled. Specifically hockey. 

The combination of all of this left an empty hole in your heart and lots of time on your hands. Missing hockey was the whole reason you started watching twitch streams. If you couldn’t have hockey at least you could have hockey players playing video games. You’d started with Zach Hyman and Mitch Marner because Toronto was on a shortlist of teams you were fairly indifferent about. But after a week or so you found yourself watching David Pastrnak because he was on almost daily around dinnertime and it gave you something to listen to while you cooked. Watching Pasta’s streams had led to your introduction to Jake Debrusk and it was silly how the sound of his voice and his laugh brought a smile to your face. It was even sillier because you were absolutely not a Boston fan. Especially not after they knocked your Hurricanes out of the playoffs last season. 

Still, each time that your phone received a notification that Jake had come online you immediately stopped whatever you were doing to watch. You weren’t part of the group that regularly played with him and Pasta, nor did you even really participate in the chats, you just watched. And for a couple hours each time, you felt a little less alone. For weeks this continued, with you only popping in to chat to wish Jake’s sister a happy birthday when he let her take over his stream for a little bit. To be honest you were just grateful for something to do. Never did you expect to log on one day to find a whisper sitting in your inbox. 

Jdebrusk: Hey. Saw you’ve watched quite a few of my streams. Just wanted to reach out and say thanks. 

You weren’t shocked by the fact that he could see a list of viewers, you kind of expected that. What shocked you was the fact that he actually cared enough to reach out to some stranger who he had never actually interacted with before. You weren’t sure what had pushed you to respond, maybe it was the Southern friendliness or maybe it was something else but after typing and deleting a response multiple times you finally pressed send and then immediately closed your browser in a failed attempt to not freak out. 

Yourusername: Pretty sure I should be thanking you for sharing your time with us and making things a little easier. 

____

With no one you followed coming online to stream for a few days, you didn’t even check the site to see if Jake had responded. But when you next logged on and saw a message notification once again you found yourself getting nervous for no reason as you opened it. 

Jdebrusk: Well you’re welcome. Feel free to join in the chat anytime. Streaming has helped keep my family from driving me insane.  

Yourusername: I’m more of a lurker. It’s just easier. And family can be a lot but be grateful you aren’t just staring at 4 walls every day. 

Stepping away from your computer you grabbed your camera and attempted to go for a walk to take some aesthetic shots. As you slipped your memory card into the computer a while later, you noticed another notification. 

Jdebrusk:  Fair enough. You quarantining alone? 

Yourusername: yep. But I guess it could be worse. I could live where it’s snowing in May. 

Jdebrusk: Can I ask where you’re at?

For a split second you debated giving up this information but it didn’t seem like giving away your state could hurt. 

Yourusername: North Carolina. 

Jdebrusk: Nice! Cool state. Been there a few times. 

Yourusername: I’m aware. No need to rub in sweeping my team, Debrusk. 

Jdebrusk: And she’s got a sense of humor ladies and gentlemen. Well, or he...I guess I don’t even know that. AWKWARD. 

Yourusername: She works. 

Jdebrusk: Cool cool. So a hurricanes fan huh? 

Yourusername: Yeah. My family would probably disown me if they knew I was talking to a Bruin. 

Jdebrusk: Yowza. 

Yourusername: So if anyone asks I’m only here for Rocky appearances. ;)

Jdebrusk: She’s only here for my cat. Got it. 

You couldn’t explain why talking with Jake felt so easy but it did. When he came on to stream next you chirped him through whispers the entire time and seeing his reaction in real-time as he read them had you giggling uncontrollably. By the time he got off, you were just waiting for his comments to come streaming your way. Instead of some long-winded rant brushing off all your jabs you just got a single comment in response. 

Jdebrusk: It’s not fair that you can chirp me and I don’t know anything about you. 

Yourusername: What do you want to know? 

Jdebrusk: I mean your name would be a good start. Age might also be important...you’re not like 12 right? 

Yourusername: Would I be quarantining alone if I was 12? I’m 24. Y/N. 

Jdebrusk: right. Right. Y/N from Carolina. Who likes cats. Got it. Are you a student or…?

Yourusername: Freelance Photographer. 

Jdebrusk:  Alright. Nice. Do you do like weddings or nature stuff or what?

Yourusername: A little bit of everything. @wildflowerphotography is my company name if you want to go on insta and see some of my work. 

No reply followed and you tried not to dwell on it. Instead you poured a glass of wine, lit a few candles, and settled into your bathtub, trying to relax for bed. Still nagging thoughts lingered in your brain. Was sharing your company page too much? He probably wasn’t asking for you to promote yourself, he was just being polite right? Though you hated yourself for letting it bother you, you were the type of person who overthought everything...which thinking about it was probably why you were still single. 

Your anxious thoughts lingered and you tossed and turned all night before finally pulling yourself out of bed the next morning. It was only as you dug through your company dms, responding to a few potential clients that wanted you to take socially distant photos for them that you stumbled upon a familiar username. 

Jdebrusk: You took all of those? Holy shit that’s talent. 

The timestamp showed the message was sent only twenty minutes after you gave him the username and you sighed to yourself before chuckling at the fact that Jake was too lazy to switch back to twitch to respond. 

Wildflowerphotography: Thanks. I’m really proud of them all. 

It was still early in the morning so there was no way he was awake with the two hour time difference so after making yourself some breakfast you took another short walk, trying anything to get your mind off of the loneliness that felt worse today than most days. Your mood had definitely been a rollercoaster recently with higher peaks and lower lows than normal. It was something you were trying to manage the best you could but sometimes it was just hard. 

With the rest of your afternoon spent binging a random tv show you didn’t even look at your phone until dinner time, but waiting for you was another dm from the Canadian hockey player. 

Jdebrusk: You should be. 

Jdebrusk: So listen...this is probably weird but can I get your number so I can stop wading through a bunch of dms and whispers I don’t care about and just talk to you? 

It was a fair question but to be blunt, today was probably the worst day for him to ask because your anxiety-riddled brain kept wanting to know why he even cared about talking to you. You didn’t know what he was looking for from all of this but your mind immediately assumed the worst. So instead of just being open with him, you blew him off, completely ignoring his message. And when he logged onto twitch next, though you wanted to watch, you forced yourself to avoid that as well. 

Three days passed before another message appeared. 

Jdebrusk: You okay? You didn’t watch the last stream. I’m sorry if I fucked up. I’ll back off if you want...I just want to know that you’re okay. 

The concern he was expressing was honestly something you didn’t expect and you found yourself crying as you read it over and over. Jake was nothing but a joyous person and the last thing you wanted was to bring him down with the mess of your own mind. 

Wildflowerphotography: you didn’t fuck up. I just...this is all on me okay. 

With your phone left open to your message string with him you watched as little dots appeared before vanishing repeatedly. Eventually a new message appeared simply containing a string of numbers composing a phone number. Jake was putting the ball in your court and a few minutes later the part of you that was aching to hear his voice won the mental war and you found yourself dialing the number. 

“Y/N?” Jake questioned the second he answered and a shaky sob slipped from your throat at the sound of him speaking your name for the first time. “What’s going on?” He murmured and by his tone you could tell he was both confused and concerned. You wanted to speak, wanted to pretend everything was fine but you’d already gone over the edge and it was too late for that now. Another sob spilled through your body and you faintly heard Jake mumble a curse. “Do you want me to just talk to you? I’ll just keep talking okay and you can hang up if you want.” He offered. And talk he did, you weren’t even sure what he was telling you, you were more focused on the grounding sound of his voice itself rather than the content of the words he was speaking. Eventually your breathing steadied out and the elephant sitting on your chest lessened allowing you to murmur his name. 

The second he heard your voice he paused mid-story.

“Thank you.” You whispered into the phone. 

“Are you okay?” He inquired, his voice tentative like he was worried anything he said would push you back over the edge. 

“Better.” You admitted. “Not great but better.” 

“I’ll take better.” He insisted. “It’s nice to actually hear your voice.” He added, causing your cheeks to flame up unconsciously. You opened your mouth to apologize again for your breakdown only to be stopped as he insisted you not do so. “But really...are you okay?” He repeated his question and you sighed. 

“It’s been a rough few days mentally for me.” You admitted. “But I will be okay.” You added. 

“Okay enough to stop ignoring me?” He teased and when you let out another shaky breath he backtracked. “It’s okay, I get it. I was just worried. You don’t have to talk to me ever again if you don’t want to.” 

“I do want to.” You breathed. “Talk to you that is.” As if he sensed you had more to say, Jake remained quiet, only the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. 

“I guess...you should probably know that I tend to overthink things. I want to talk to you. Hearing your voice makes my entire day. I just...I guess I’m just confused on why you want to talk to me. What your intentions are, etc. And you...you don’t have to answer that just...that’s where my head is at.” 

Jake was silent for a minute before his voice reached back through the phone. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what this is either. But I’m intrigued by you and I guess my intention is just to get to know you better if you’ll let me.” Jake’s honesty was refreshing and you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “And if I can make your day just by talking...well that’s a pretty sweet bonus.” 

______

Quarantine continued to drag on, paused only by some carefully planned photo sessions with your distance lenses getting extra abuse. You continued talking to Jake, mostly through text but with the occasional phone call. He’d whine about the crap he was getting from his sister when he’d disappear to talk to you but he’d insist that it was worth it in the next breath. Between the streams, the phone calls, the texts and the memes he’d send you, suddenly you felt a lot less alone, at least emotionally. 

A month since your first phone call had passed before Jake sent you a text that made your heart stop. 

JD:  So how come I send you pictures all the time and yet I still don’t know what you look like? 

For weeks he had been sending you photos of him snuggling with Rocky or hanging with Jordyn and there had even been a shirtless workout pic or two which had left you debating whether a cold shower was appropriate. At the same time, you hadn’t worked up the courage to send him any photos in return other than ones you took of nature on your walks or snippets from photoshoots you’d done. Trying to downplay it all you sent back a teasing response. 

YN: What can I say I’m a behind the lens person. 

JD: Y/N...c’mon I just wanna see how beautiful you are. 

Leaving him on ‘read’ you sighed and bit your lip not sure how to respond. You were afraid if he knew what you looked like that he wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore and you weren’t sure what you’d do if you lost something that had sort of become a saving grace in this crazy time. 

JD: Is this one of those insecurity things? Is that why I haven’t seen you yet? 

It was starting to amaze you how well Jake could read you. It had been a long time since anyone was able to see through the walls you put up, see behind the camera that you hid behind, but it had only been a month or so and already Jake was starting to read the silences between the words. 

JD: Do you want me to get Jordyn to pump you up? A picture isn’t going to change what I think of you…

YN: You don’t know that. 

JD: C’mon YN give me a little more credit than that. You know I’m not that shallow. I like you okay. I like the woman that chirps me. I like the woman that listens to me and always knows what to say. I like the woman that sees me as Jake and not Boston Bruin Jake Debrusk. And since none of that is based on your physical appearance I’m going to like you no matter what you look like. 

YN: Promise? 

JD: Yeah Y/N, I promise. 

Scrolling through your camera roll you attempted to decide on which of the few photos of yourself made you look at least somewhat pretty before biting the bullet and attaching it to the text conversation. The moment you hit send you winced and your anxiety didn’t ebb until your phone rang in your hand. 

“You’re stunning.” Jake’s voice breathed lowly the second the line connected. “Just as beautiful outside as you are inside which I wasn’t sure was even possible.” By now you knew when Jake was trying to play something up versus when he was being genuine and his voice now was 100% the latter. But taking compliments about your body was never something you’d been good at so you didn’t know what to say in response. 

“I hope you believe me.” He added. “I knew you wouldn’t believe a text even if I sent it 100 times so I hope you can believe me, hearing me say it.” 

“I...thanks Jake.” You finally mumbled. You did believe that he was being honest, he had no reason not to be with you living thousands of miles apart, but at the same time, you still felt uneasy about it for reasons you’d never fully be able to explain. 

___

Tearing down the last barrier of anonymity seemed to open up a new world between you and Jake. If it was even possible you communicated more frequently, adding facetime calls to your usual methods. Seeing the way he looked at you while you talked sent heat flooding through your body and you quickly came to the realization that you were falling hard for him. 

That knowledge was terrifying and once again you wanted to pull away, protect yourself from getting hurt. But then Jordyn stole her brother’s phone and called you, raving about how when all of this was over you had to agree to meet her brother in person because she had never seen him like this over anyone. Talking with Jordyn reminded you that Jake didn’t have to go to all of this work, didn’t have to deal with your crazy emotions if he didn’t think you were worth the time and effort. It may be a pandemic but surely there were women in Edmonton willing to break social distancing rules if it meant scoring someone as wonderful as Jake. But yet each and every night he was on the phone with you, taking the time to get to know all of the things that make you tick, your likes and dislikes, your hopes and dreams. 

And it wasn’t just Jordyn that knew about you. You’d been on the phone with Jake when both of his parents came outside and when he’d asked them to come back in a minute because he was talking to you, they just called out your name in greeting and waved. 

“Your parents know my name?” You’d asked and Jake ducked his head shyly before replying. “I mean yeah…” He stated. “My mom can’t wait to meet you.” You were sure from Jake’s point of view that it was probably comical how wide your eyes went at his statement. 

“Jake what...what is this...are we just friends or…?” It wasn’t a question that you ever anticipated asking but it was out there now. From the other side of the screen, you watched Jake adjust his ball cap over his overly long hair. 

“Fuck...Y/N…” Jake started and you opened your mouth to assure him that friends was fine, that it was what you wanted too because if you didn’t put your heart out there than you couldn’t get hurt. Before you could speak though Jake continued. “No...we’re not just friends. I think you know that as well as I do.” He admitted. “I don’t know exactly what we are. I...I was hoping to meet you in person when I asked if you wanted to be my girlfriend. I know...I know that none of this is ideal because even when this is over there’s going to be the whole long-distance thing but...I can’t deny that I have feelings for you y/n. I don’t want to deny it.” 

“I don’t want to deny it either.” You said softly, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean...if you’re willing to put up with my emotional baggage…” You shrugged. 

“You have feelings for me too?” Jake questioned, his normal confidence suppressed. “I have no problems supporting you through dealing with your baggage if you’re willing to do the same with mine. I know I’ve fucked up in the past as a boyfriend and I don’t want to do that to you.” 

“I think I’m kinda sorta falling for you.” You stated anxiously, unable to meet Jake’s gaze through the screen until he breathed your name. 

“So can we agree we’re something more than friends and that we’ll figure out the details as part of returning to the new normal?” 

“Yeah...we can agree to that.” You nodded. 

_______

The new normal had finally arrived and that meant that you were going to see Jake in person for the first time. The two of you had been “more than friends” for what felt like forever now but had realistically been a few months but with each passing day you knew you wanted more. You still didn’t know how it would all work with him playing in Boston and you owning a company in North Carolina but you were ready to figure it out together if it meant that you could finally have him for real. 

Jake’s plane was scheduled to land in ten minutes and you were running so far behind. Your senior picture photoshoot had run over and traffic was a mess. You’d texted Jake apologizing but upon getting your text he’d quickly waved your concerns off declaring that he’d just get an uber and meet you at your apartment. It would be a better first meeting anyway because you wouldn’t be time-restricted by parking or pick up zone rules. 

When you finally pulled into your parking lot you checked your phone to see if Jake had arrived yet. It wasn’t until you reached the front steps of your building that you noticed someone sitting there, bags beside them. He looked up at the same time that your brain processed that it was him and he was really there and tears instantly prickled in your eyes. As you rushed to close the distance, Jake stood to catch you as you threw yourself at him. 

No words needed to be said as you tugged his mouth down to your own, kissing him for the very first time. It was nothing like you had expected but at the same time it was everything and at that moment you knew that this was it, you were in love. It had been such a long wait, but the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, his lips against yours was well worth it. It was cheesy but you knew that the physical chemistry was only this strong because you already knew each other inside and out and now that he was here, now that he was finally yours, things could only get better. 

Being with Jake despite the distance wouldn’t be easy but now that you knew the way he felt, the way he tasted, the scent of his cologne, you were willing to do whatever it took to make it. If you could fall in love during a global pandemic, you could do anything and it would make a great story to tell the grandkids one day about how they only came to exist because of a direct message on a streaming site while the world was quarantined. 

#jake debrusk #jake debrusk imagine #boston bruins #boston bruins imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #bbruins #030 #tw: quarantine

[pudding-head-kenma]

Wear Your Name Proudly [ Konoha x Reader ]

Request: Fluff with Konohaaaaaaaa we all need it(I feel like u probably know who this is now lmao)

A/N: number 1. i’m too stupid to know who this is 👉👈🥺. number 2.... i guess this could be taken as angst?? but there’s cuddling, mutual trust and taking care of a loved one, and i consider that fluff 👉👈

You knock on the door for the third time in the last few minutes. For the first time, you hear ruffling inside, and slow footsteps approach you.

You and your boyfriend had planned to hang out today after his practise was over, since they were – for once – going to leave early, meaning you could use the rest of your free evening to have a date. He hadn’t texted you by the time practise was meant to be over, but you paid no mind to it, instead deciding to head to his house.

After the first knock, you figured he just wasn’t home. It wasn’t unlikely that they would stay just a little bit longer at the gym if they were finishing a practise match, so you decided to take out your phone and call him.

You heard buzzing inside.

Okay, that’s weird... So you knock again. By the second knock, you wonder if perhaps he left his phone at home, so you decide to text Bokuto and ask if they’re going to take long. He seems confused by your text, and lets you know that practise ended a while ago. You ask if perhaps Konoha had decided to practise a little more, and he tells you he went home before everyone else.

Okay, that’s weird.

Now you’re worried. If he’s home, why isn’t he answering the door? Or his phone? Did something bad happen to him, is he hurt?

Your third knock is a little more assertive, and you have your phone on your hand, ready to call someone if he doesn’t reply this time.

But you heard the ruffling and footsteps, and you immediately relax. He’s okay.

Well... him being okay is arguable. He’s alive, anyway.

“Aki?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you’re barely even sure why you’re calling out for him, unable to think of a single thing to say.

He looks exhausted.  His hair is ruffled in every possible direction, and you take note of how his eyes are slightly puffier than usual, his nose a little red. He looks... cold, emotionless. The entire house is dark, all blinds and windows closed even though it’s the middle of the day. At first, you wonder if he’s sick. Maybe he caught a cold and tried to go to practise but ended up overworking himself and decided to come home. However, you can see it in his eyes – he’s just going through a bad time.

There are times Konoha gets like this. Despite being a little sarcastic and even provocative with his team, which gives off the impression that he’s always a little mischievous and seldom sad, he tends to hide his pain away most of the time. This results in him exploding at random times, engulfed and overwhelmed by his own worries. By default, he doesn’t call anyone. He deals with it alone, and he’s back to being himself the next day.

It has been a while since the last time you saw him like this. You faintly remember it being about a particular game they lost that really took a toll on them, and he kept ranting about how Bokuto had gotten into one of his  moods at the worst possible time – he’s clearly very frustrated about that particular subject, as you’ve come to learn. He loves the guy to death, but it leaves him anxious to know their ace (not to mention captain) could just break at any time during a game when he’s meant to be the rock of the team.

Immediately recognising his mood, you drop your bag and wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug. He barely moves at all, letting his arms hang by his sides for a few seconds before moving them up hesitantly, wrapping them loosely around your waist. He probably tired himself out crying, and you’re not sure if it’s frustration, anger, or sadness, but it doesn’t matter. You know you need to take care of him today.

The first thing you do is take him to his room. He’s attached to you, but he’s not exactly dead weight. He’s mostly clinging to you desperately, like you’re the only thing currently keeping him together. All things considered, that’s probably not far from the truth, given the current situation. You make sure he lies down on his bed comfortably, pressing a kiss to his forehead in promise of being back soon before heading to the kitchen to brew some tea for him. It helps calm him down to talk over things over a warm beverage, you know that now.

A few minutes later, you’re able to help him sit down just enough for him to take the mug, and he immediately seems to relax from the shift in atmosphere – he doesn’t feel good, you can tell that much, but he seems a little calmer now that he has company.

“I’m sorry.” It pains you that those are the first words to leave him a few moments later – he has nothing to apologise about, and it frustrates you that he would feel the need to.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Aki. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I ruined our chance to have a date. We probably won’t get any free time for a while.” He has pretty much ignored your reassurance – he doesn’t do it on purpose, he’s just focused on other things, lost in his own head.

You reach forward and gently cup his cheeks, making him lift up his gaze. When he gets into these moods, it’s not rare for him to be looking away, lost in thought while glancing at the floor, zoning out while focusing on a pillow. So you know that you need to snap him out of him from time to time, bring his attention back to you, back to reality.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. We can have more dates in the future, it’s not important. Your well being is more important to me. Right now, and always.” You explain again, this time a little slower, making sure you don’t break eye contact. He needs to hear it, and you need to say it – not because he needs it, but because you mean it.

He freezes for a few seconds, overwhelmed with emotion once again. So used to taking care of his team, it’s likely that he forgets to take care of himself. To have someone else, someone he cares about, do it for him must feel like a dream. He relaxes into your touch, and his eyes close as he takes a sip from the tea, before he’s able to mutter out something again.

“I’m tired of being seen as the weak member of the team.”

This shocks you. You’ve seen their practise multiple times, and not once did you ever think he was the weak member at all. In fact, you can’t think of a single person who would be able to think that; in fact, he’s probably one of the strongest members, even with the whole team being very powerful in general.

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone thinks I’m weak.”

For a second, you think he’s just exaggerating – not that it would invalidate his feelings, but when we’re stressed we tend to think others think badly of us. However, the way he speaks... He talks like it’s something he has come to accept a while ago, not only during this stressful breakdown. It sounds like he has been told that before, and it makes you feel uneasy. Was the team perhaps being unfair to him? You couldn’t imagine such a thing, but...

You don’t have much time to wonder before he speaks up again.

“I don’t know, I think- I thought I was pretty good, but they just don’t agree. I’m tired of that stupid nickname. I get it, I’m not fucking perfect at anything, I’m not a perfect setter like Akaashi nor a perfect spiker like Bokuto, but I’m trying. I’m really, really trying Y/N.”

It clicks.

You know exactly what he’s talking about. Through the years, the team had given him a nickname – you can’t remember exactly, but it’s something along the lines of ‘Jack of all trades, master of none’.  Like that popular saying. You believe it happened overtime, as he consistently showed his ability to take on any position just fine, even subbing in for Akaashi once when the time called for it. You know the team doesn’t mean any harm, but you never thought about how much it affects Konoha himself.

“I get that I can’t be the best at any of the positions, and I get that it’s ridiculous. I can’t just be a very good setter, a very good spiker, a very good libero, I can’t be a very good anything. I’m just average in all of the options. But why do they have to keep reminding me of that? I get it, I set the ball when Akaashi couldn’t reach today, but why do they need to remind me that it doesn’t work for me?” He’s getting more agitated as he speaks, likely as he recalls the events of today’s practise. You stay quiet, allowing him to vent, to let go of what’s bothering him.

“ ‘Ah, Jack strikes again!’ I’m sick of it. Why do they have to word it like that? I get it, I’m going out of my way, and I’m not even that good at what I do originally, but just- why? Why do you have to keep telling me that?”  He seems to be done talking. He brings his hands up to his hair, roughly tugging at it before covering his face, the tea long forgotten on the table next to him.

You understand. You never thought about it before, but you definitely understand. So, setting your tea down as well, you gently shove his shoulder. He’s pliant under your touch, trusting, expecting you to know how to help him, believing you can help him. You lie him down again and climb on the bed behind him, attaching yourself to his back immediately. He relaxes, melting into the warmth you bring, and his breath starts getting regular again.

“I think you’re misunderstanding. It’s not an insult at all, Aki.” He tenses up, but doesn’t speak. He’s willing to listen, even if he’s already objecting and formulating other possibilities in his head, other ways it has been used as an insult. You don’t give him the time to go into detail, speaking up once more in a gentle voice.

“Granted, it’s a nickname that bothers you, and that’s something worth bringing up with them. However, I’m sure everyone means it in the most flattering way possible. You know that saying continues, right?” That seems to peak his interest, because he’s shoving you away gently, only enough for him to turn around and face you. True to his name, any cuddling position works just fine for him, but he does have a preference for the ones he can see you.

You bring him in closer, allowing him to rest his head on your chest. You’re taking care of him today, and you want to show it through actions just as much as words.

“Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one. That’s how the saying goes. It’s a compliment. You’re a generalist more than a specialist, meaning you’re better at resolving issues than someone who’s very good in a specific department. You’re versatile and able to think on the spot, instead of being stuck to your element.”

He seems to tense up a little at that as well, but this time it’s different. It’s not a pained tensing up, not a worried or anxious one, but more of a realisation. He realises that it could be interpreted like that as well, and fears he might have let his insecurities get the better of him. His grip around you tightens, and you wrap your arms even harder around him, a quiet promise that you’re protecting him.

“Do you know why you have such a good team, with such amazing specialist players? Because you’re there. If you’re there, they can focus on getting better and better on their own position, knowing they always have you. You always have everyone’s backs, Aki. You have Bokuto’s back when he’s being blocked, you have Akaashi’s back when he had to touch the ball first during a receive, and you have everyone’s back when Bokuto goes crazy and they need to depend on you to score. It’s because they have such an amazing generalist on their team that they can focus on being specialists. You’re their most important player. You keep the team together.”

By now, you can tell he’s crying. You don’t think you’ve really said all that much, but it must be very important for him to hear this. He has likely been doubting himself for quite some time, so it must be reassuring to be praised. It must be hard; Konoha is extremely into volleyball, and sometimes he gets really competitive. If he thought that nickname was used as an insult to tell him he wasn’t as good as the others on the team who excel at what they do, it must have really hurt him. You wish he had brought this up with you sooner.

No other words are exchanged between the two of you about the topic; you keep him close to you, gently combing through his hair in hopes of calming down his sobs, which now have gotten louder. He’s letting them pour out, and it’s for the best – his frustrations, his shame, his anger, they’re all pouring out with them, being instead replaced by confidence, understanding, and pride. He should wear the nickname proudly, because that’s the only way his team would ever mean it. He knows it, of course, knows they would never insult him in such a way, but sometimes he can get too much into his own head.

That’s where you come in. Your gentle touches and kind words are a silent promise of help, of compromise to him, to always be with him and help him through this. In the same way he helps you through your own issues.

At the end of the day, you two have each other, and will always have each other.

So you remain quiet, basking in each other’s presence, lucky to be together. Lucky to be able to count on one another, thankful for the time you’re allowed to spend by the other’s side, grateful for the wonderful memories you’re able to create.

And another day goes by, and you both end up sleeping the problems away.

When Konoha shows up confident the next day, now laughing along at the mentions of the nickname, nobody seems to notice.

But as you sit and watch them practise, you know. He has changed again, grown to accept himself even a little more, and you were there to see it.

And you sit there, hoping you’ll get to see it again.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyū!! #hq #hq!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #konoha #konoha fluff #konoha akinori #akinori fluff #konoha x reader #konoha x you #akinori x you #akinori x reader #fukurodani #konoha angst #hehe couldnt resist sorry

[thatdamncutegirl]

My Neko Queen - Chapter 2

Warnings: Cat Fluff, mentions of an abusive past relationship, protagonist planning world domination, Karen-shaming,

Pairings: Alpha Clark Kent x Omega Cat shifter!Reader

Author’s Note: Okay, before you kill me for this late upload, hear me out. Scholl work+ Mental Breakdowns made me late. Sorry now enjoy.

Do not post my work anywhere with proper permission or credit. Reblogs on Tumblr are welcome.

Read and review.

Enjoy.

The day was bright and shining. But overly so. The world was waking up, country by country, for another day. And they all woke up with a reassurance that they will be safe today. No one will kill them today. Because there was a group, waiting to be called. For help. And this group was the infamous Justice League. But what they failed to understand that they were also real souls. That they were not public slaves, but just people with good hearts. But now it was human nature to take everything they had for granted. Be it their own families or the heroes who can always choose to take over the world.

 Around 2, Diana heard a scream. A man was screaming. Multiple actually. As soon as she rushed there, she was astounded. In country A, there was a group of people, protesting for Student rights. In front of them, protected by a team of police officers. And every form of security possible was invested to protect the group. The students mainly consisted of Religious, Racial and Sexual Minorities. They were apparently being discriminated against in their university. Whilst the board of directors, mostly men, were looking at them in disdain. Once the teens saw her, they got louder. The sight made her happy. The fact that her presence made them stronger. They were just peacefully protesting. She was about to leave when one of the directors signaled one of the officers. They pulled out a grenade and removed its key. As soon as they lunged it at them, she caught it and threw it in a calculated throw. And she was correct. The blast occurred in water. And quickly wrapped all the directors in the Lasso and carried their screaming bodies to the court. Where Alfred had already given the details of the almost attack. As soon as they were put down, officials carried them away to the trucks, to stuff them in jail. The one rule that was instated all over the world was that if the JL reports any crime, the punishment should be given immediately. Failing to do so would remove the country from their radar. Any issues that are usually detectable on the radar gets ignored. Once a few countries got removed, they came back crawling, begging. When she went back, to a high up tower with allowed her to here and sense things, she again heard a scream. A woman this time. But she knew the Tone of that scream.

“bloody Karens”, she muttered, and rushed to that location. And just as she suspected, there was a woman in her mid forties, acting all classy while acting like a ragged bitch.

“Oh finally. The slut hero is here. Here, take tis bitch away from me”

“Fuck off you bitch. What is your problem with her?”

“Excuse me. How dare you?”

“Get on the point. Why are you acting like a petulant child?”

“huh. This forsaken woman first parked her car in MY spot. I asked her to remove it and she bumped my car when I was moving my car in. and then refused to apologize.”

Diana turned to look at the other woman. It was brown woman in her twenties. She was looking at her with an irritated expression. She turned to the older woman and warned, “listen here. The world has more important thing than your old ass. And your car. If I try to remove the stick up your ass, and put another one before even the first one is out, will they bump or not?”

With that, she gave a wink to the brown beauty and shot off. After carrying on with her day, she went back with a mood to rant for hours about the ungrateful humans

 JL HEADQUARTERS

When she reached there, everyone was there. Except one. Kal-El. The one she was looking forward to after such a long day. When asked, turns out he had gone home early. She changed quickly and went to his apartment. When she moved through the window, she found him laying on the bed. But what threw her off was the small baby kitty on his chest. She was all smiles and meows. She was extremely small, half the size of Clark’s hand. And the fact that such a small cat was placed on such a giant man, she was roaming around on him like she was in a playground. She smiled. Trust him to be completely emotionally wrecked and still take up as much responsibilities shoved on him.

“She was following me all day. Came in the building. She had sneaked herself in someone’s bag. Came to me when I was working. Tried to ignore her and she crawled into an empty box on my worktop. She spent all day, sneaking here and there. Somehow climbed on me and started licking my face. In the end, she came home with me. I am naming her Juno”

Diana scoffed playfully. She also sneaked into the bed, keeping his head in her lap. He moved happily. She was the sister he never got. But looks like Juno did not share the same sentiment. As soon as Diana placed her hand on his head, the feline ran and bit her. as soon as the offending hooman hand was gone, she started patting his head with her paws, trying to massage him.

Diana was shocked. Not only was this kitty really possessive but also really smart. While Clark chuckling. Or trying to. Her legs were on his lips and her paws on his head. She was licking his head and trying to give him a massage. He gathered her in his arms and placed her in the scruff of his neck. She settled there and spent a good amount of time trying to get as much as Hooman contact as she can. When she was satisfied, she placed her face on his neck. Within moments, she was out. They both smiled at her for some time and then fell silent.

“You know, I have realized something. The humans will neve accept us. For them, I am an outsider. You are a magical witch type being. Arthur is an animal for them. Bruce and Barry are Mutants for them. And Viktor is a mere machine for them. Lois also said it. That no matter how much we do for them, we are always going to be outsiders for them. And we need to do something to keep ourselves safe too.”

“hmm. But the only way to do that is make some new rules and defenses for ourselves too. And that will give us power. And with power comes hunger. For more. What if we succumb to it and become power hungry?”

“Then we have to accept that hunger. We have to. You saw the war. I have seen how these people are divided by countries. They treat each other like dirt. And we are just giant trees for them that they will cut down, as soon as they see a flaw in us.”

“Then maybe, for the people we love, our friends and family, we have to do this. We have to take control. But what will we control”?

“The world”

Diana and Clark stared off in the space. They knew that this was the ultimate solution. Control. They wanted control. And if they have to dominate the world for it, they will.

 With the same thought in their minds, they fell asleep.

 After a few hours, Juno the Kitty woke up. She looked at them for a few minutes. And then slowly sneaked out. She went to the window and jumped out. When she was in the air, she started glowing and turned into a white ball of mist. And when she landed, she was no longer a feline. The place where she should’ve landed, there stood a beautiful young teenager. Around 17 in age. She had smooth hair and beautiful eyes. She looked up at the window with pity and love in her eyes. And with a small delicate voice, she whispered.

“Alpha. I know you have suffered. But no more. Ill help you. To keep yourself safe. And you will no longer get hurt. But for now, I have to do something.”

 And with that, she turned back to Juno, the small kitten. And ran to a house she had tracked today. To do something. To take revenge.

The next morning, Diana dropped Clark to his office, and went to meet Perry. She had been wanting to buy some shares in the daily planet. It was quite a useful company. When they both stepped out, they were met with a funny scene. Lois, was dressed in a full-length skirt with a long top with full sleeves. Usually she wore really short pencil skirts and tight shirts. And her hair was up in a cap. And when Clark one of his colleagues what it was, they laughed. Turns out, a small cat broke in her house. First the cat cut of her hair in all sorts so her hair was worse than a tattered cloth. And scratched her all over. So much so that her entire body was covered in scratches. Even tough the duo found it amusing, they didn’t comment on it. They were on their way to Perry’s office when they heard a mewl. It was Juno. She was running towards Clark and jumped on him. But as soon as Lois saw Juno, she quivered and moved back a little. They quickly connected the dots and stared at Juno. When they gave her a raised eyebrow, Juno moved her head as if she was nodding in response.

Diana: wow she’s………smart

Clark: Damn right she is.

Clark placed a small kiss on her forehead and placed her in his pocket. While the little kitty was enjoying the sight of Lois. One of their mates, Tasha, realized what must have happened, as she knew what Lois did to Clark. And since then, it became a rule, no one would mess with Clark Kent. As they did not want to wear full clothes and tend to deep scratches like her.

#henry cavill #Henry x female reader #henry x reader #romantic #My Neko Queen #alpha clark #alpha omega dynamic #neko #cat shifter x human #Cat shifter x Clark #superman #cat shifter x Superman #clark #clark kent imagine #clark kent #kal-el #cute #funny

[doitforstamets]

A fanfic..!

Edit: AO3 with more chapters!

Star Trek Discovery Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets Before Discovery General audiences / Not beta read

Paul sits in the dim hotel lobby, tapping on his thigh with one hand and mindlessly browsing a PADD with the other. There is text on the screen he doesn’t read, and pictures he glances over but doesn’t look at.

His heart jumps at an incoming message.

“Be there in 20 minutes”, Hugh writes.

Paul is frozen staring at the message pop up until it disappears. His hand stops the nervous tapping to grab the PADD from the glass table, and to write back.

“Can’t wait.”

And he really can’t. 20 minutes, still? Paul feels like he’s been waiting for weeks – and technically he has. But he’s only sat in the hotel lobby for a while, just long enough to finish a cup of coffee and go trough his presentation one more time, sloppily. Hardly a way in which he does anything, usually. He takes pride in being very particular about his work.

But not this weekend.

After an unexpected encounter on Alpha Centauri 6 weeks ago – Paul checks in his head, yes, it really has been 6 weeks since he met Hugh – they’ve only been in contact via video calls and messages. Not that it hadn’t been nice – it’s been very nice – Paul was starting to get impatient with not being close to Hugh, physically.

For a while, he had been afraid to say anything, in case Hugh felt differently. He had tried to focus on his work, only messaging Hugh once or twice a day compared to the earlier long daily conversations and calls.

He didn’t mean to get so lost in the research, but that’s just who he was. One day, he had forgotten to message Hugh completely. He had spent his entire day calculating and testing yet another idea for harnessing the potential of the spore drive. It didn’t work.

He returned to his apartment, overlooking the research station on Deneva, defeated and annoyed. He had frustratedly kicked off his shoes, thrown his jacket on the couch, rest of his clothes leaving a messy trail to the bathroom. He didn’t pay much attention to anything while showering. He’s pretty sure he had washed himself.

Stepping out of the bathroom to be met with the warm glow of the Denevian sunset, Paul sighed.

Instantly, there was a muffled vibration coming from somewhere near the entrance to his apartment.

Oh shit, Paul realized. He had not looked at his personal PADD all day.

Quickly making his way to the entrance, he tried to grab the jacket he wore today from the coat rack. It wasn’t there. He turned around, remembering throwing the jacket on the couch, only to realize the buzzing was coming from his feet.

Paul grabbed the PADD from the case on the floor, almost instinctively answered the video call, before realizing he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Hastily, he grabbed the nearest shirt he could find, struggled while putting it on trying to simultaneously hold the PADD. He took a few steps to the couch and answered the call while flopping down on the couch.

Hugh’s face appeared on screen, his brows furrowed a bit, but his mouth turning into a faint smile at the sight of Paul.

“Hey,” Hugh greeted in a soft tone.

“Hi.”

“Where have you been?”

Paul had realized his mistake just moments before, and took a second to think of the answer, no matter how obvious it was.

“In the lab,” Paul answered sounding a little exhausted.

“Of course,” Hugh smiled. “Anything exiting?”

Paul sighed again, turning his gaze to look at the sunset taking its final breaths in the horizon.

“Not really. Another day spent with algorithms and experiments only to prove myself wrong.”

“Oh,” Hugh exhaled with an apologizing look. “That sucks.”

By now, Hugh knew better than to answer Paul’s disappointment with the previously tried encouraging facts, like “that’s part of the research. You’ll get there eventually.”

Instead, he had noticed, Paul took comfort in him just agreeing that sometimes his work was a pain in the ass.

Looking at the pale man on screen, direct sunlight hitting his face and hair, illuminating it even lighter and bouncing off his blue eyes with a beautiful glow, Hugh definitely agreed that right now, he would rather have Paul not so invested in his research. Maybe they could spend some time together, if it wasn’t for their distance and both of their demanding jobs.

Hugh sighed smiling, studying Paul’s white-appearing eyebrows, now furrowing a bit in a way that had become quite familiar to Hugh. Paul quickly turned back to face the screen.

��I don’t really want to think about it,” he huffs. “How was your day?”

“I missed you,” Hugh answers without hesitation.

Paul is taken aback by the honest statement. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you,” Paul murmurs, realizing there are at least a few notifications unread on his PADD from Hugh.

“I know. You were working.”

“Still. I could’ve at least messaged you,” Paul goes on to say, genuinely annoyed at himself for ignoring Hugh for a full day. He meant to keep his distance, but not this much.

“Yeah, you could’ve,” Hugh admits, flashing a grin that almost melts Paul.

Hugh is still in his white Starfleet uniform, although the jacket is open, revealing an undershirt with a far more giving neckline. Paul tries not to stare.

“But I had a busy day too,” Hugh continues. “I have time now.”

“Good,” Paul smiles, although he’s a tiny bit uncomfortable remembering that he isn’t wearing any pants.

“You’re home?” Paul asks an obvious question. He’s seen enough glimpses of Hugh’s quarters to recognize it.

“Well,” Hugh looks a little surprised. “I guess.”

Paul raises an eyebrow as in asking Hugh to elaborate.

“It still doesn’t feel very... homey.”

Hugh had lived in these quarters on this starbase for about six months now. He’d gotten used to it, and felt physically comfortable where he was, but he had never referenced to it as “home”. Maybe because he spent so much time on duty outside the starbase.

“I get that,” Paul answered. He in turn had lived in this apartment for almost 6 years. It was a place to sleep, eat and shower, above anything else. If there was a place he’d consider home, it would be the garden in the lab.

Both men startle slightly, as Paul’s PADD receives a message. Paul furrows his brows and purses his lips, opening the message. Hugh recognises the look from previous calls, often followed with an apologetic Paul having to head back to the lab.

Paul groans at the message in frustration. He places the PADD on the coffee table, disappearing from the screen.

“What is it?” Hugh asks while grabbing something off the screen himself. Might as well fill some reports if Paul must head back to work.

“Umm,” Paul huffs from outside the screen. “It’s Straal.” He reappears wearing grey collage pants and scuffing his damp blonde hair with a towel.

“Back to work?” Hugh asks with a tender smile.

“No... Well, not right now,” Paul answers, reading the message again. He scoffs. “He’s bailing on me for a conference next weekend.”

There’s an annoyed look on the man’s face, as he dismisses the message and leans back on the couch, defeated.

“Fucking Straal,” he hisses, just audibly for Hugh to hear. He chuckles to himself, trying to hide a smile.

“Where is it?” Hugh asks, apparently while writing some notes on another device in front of him.

“Betazed.” Ugh. That’s far.

“Really?” Hugh raises his brows and opens a new tap on his PADD with a swift touch. Betazed is closer than Deneva, that’s for sure.

“I’m so tired of having to act like an idiot at these things,” Paul starts ranting. Hugh nods, but is still flicking trough tabs on his device to look at something else.

“I don’t know anyone, or even if I did, I don’t care enough to remember them. Most people don’t actually care about the research and are there just for the show and... gossip,” Paul huffs. “Who goes to a science conference for gossip?”

Hugh glances at Paul and gives a small chuckle. He’s reminded of what often goes on during Starfleet Medical personnel seminars, after and in between the lectures...

“I know some people,” Hugh laughs. He’s dug up a file listing his work shifts, displayed in thick boxes of multiple colors for multiple sites and types of shifts. He scrolls down to next week.

“It’s obnoxious. Would be fine if it was just the presentations, but there’s always some afterparty you’re expected to attend if you’re to actually make connections and get sponsors. Escapes me how my social presence has anything to do with the research...” Paul rants on.

They’ve had this conversation before, a few weeks ago, when Paul was getting ready for another one of his trips across the galaxy to present his genius research to much less interested audiences. It was clear Paul wasn’t much of a people’s person. He was a convincing speaker, though. Hugh had been intrigued from the first moment he saw Paul give his presentation. Intense, captivating and so excited about his own work, it was hard not to be. Or so Hugh had thought. Apparently, he was in the minority.

“Why does Justin just get to inform me he’s not coming. I better be in a hospital if I were to skip one of these things."

Hugh looks at Paul on the screen, his face now more frustrated than annoyed.

“Please don’t hurt yourself for that,” Hugh kids. Although there’s a slight chance Paul actually might be that stupid, he admits.

Paul smiles back at him softly. A moment passes in silence, before Hugh continues.

“You know... I have vacation days saved up. I’ve always wanted to visit Betazed.”

________

GAHH. I have not written fanfiction in years..! Please be gentle, I know I also change the tense halfway trough, sorryyy. But also, this needs a name I guess?

#culmets #paul stamets #hugh culber #paul stamets x hugh culber #stamets #culber #dr culber #star trek #star trek discovery #star trek disco #fan fic #fanfic #mlm #star trek fan fic #fan fiction #my fanfics tag #star trek discovery fan fic #fic #*

[scxrlettwxtches]

worn out jackets pt.2 | hwang hyunjin

Genre: badboy!hyunjin x class president!reader, fluff, angst

Warnings: violence!

Word Count: +10.0k

Description: Hwang Hyunjin and you were now what were considered to be very good friends, but that doesn’t mean your relationship was a smooth sailing as the two of you wanted. The fact that you’re head over heels in love with him also doesn’t help that much.

Author’s Note: hahahaha remember when i said this would be posted in like a week? i lied. im so so sorry this took literally a month to write and im still not totally satisfied with it, but i really hope everyone enjoys it!! as always, my ask box is open to rants and comments about my writing, since there are little plot lines that i didn’t have time to fit in. :) 

Part 1

i.

After that incident with his parents, Hwang Hyunjin walked you home. Whether he was trying to be a gentleman or just paying back the favor of you comforting him, you couldn’t tell. He didn’t say anything during the whole journey, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

It seemed your mother had stopped by the house that day, since the spare key was back where it was supposed to be: under the door mat. Hyunjin stood behind you silently as you opened the door, but it was a comfortable silence, not like the suffocating aura from before.

“Thanks for walking me home, Hyunjin,” you said softly, bowing politely. Hyunjin’s posture looked relaxed as he smiled gently, waving off your thanks. You waited for a second to see if he would say more, but he didn’t.

You shut the door, threw your backpack on the couch, and were well on the way to taking a nice long nap when you heard Hyunjin call out your name.

“Hey, Y/N?” Startled, you moved back to the entrance, your hand on the doorknob when Hyunjin spoke again, “D-don’t open the door.”

Frowning, you obeyed and waited for whatever he was going to do or say. 

“I’m too much of a coward to say it to your face,” his voice was muffled by the object between the two of you, “but from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything that you do for me.”

By the time you had snapped yourself out of whatever trance you had fallen in (because The Hwang Hyunjin was thanking you what the fuck—) and flung open the door, the boy was already gone. With the street empty and gloomy, it was almost as if he was never there to begin with. 

ii. 

From that point on, the rest of the detentions with Hyunjin were actually quite pleasant experiences, if you had to admit. Despite still being infamously late to every one of his classes, he always seemed to arrive to the detention classroom before you did. He’d walk over to snatch a large stack of papers from your bag, and the two of you would work silently for the hour and a half. You never asked him to help you, but you couldn’t say no to the possibility of getting yourself some decent shut eye when you got home. 

Neither of you said much during these detentions, though Hyunjin would occasionally walk over and tease you about how strict you were with your grading. In return, you’d chastise him for giving Minho passing grades when it was clear that he had failed, but would flunk Jisung just because (“he drank the rest of my apple juice without asking!”). 

Just like that, Hyunjin’s week of detention ended, and so did your reason to spend time with him.

You couldn’t help but be a little disappointed about this. In a week, Hyunjin had broken past the tall, unyielding walls of your heart, and it scared you that he now had the most ideal opportunity to just walk out of your life, never to come back. 

However, to your relief (and delight), Hyunjin stayed.

It wasn’t a dramatic change, at least not at school. Both of you still lived in completely different universes that never crossed, but it came in the form of a fresh bento box in your locker that you definitely didn’t make, or half of your work being magically graded and slipped into your backpack during lunch break. You weren’t sure how Hyunjin managed to figure out your locker combination to sneak in your lunch or steal some of your teacher’s paperwork, but you knew it was him.

Because of this, you decided to show that you were there for him too. Yours came in the form of class notes that you would slip in his bag when he wasn’t in the room, or the secret pieces of paper you’d slip in his locker to warn him about which teacher was close to giving him detention. True to your word, you had removed his detention from the school system (and maybe even a couple more).

It wasn’t the ideal friendship you wanted to have with him, but it was comforting to know that someone was watching over you. 

Once out of school, however, Hyunjin was a totally different person, clinging to you like a koala to their favorite tree (you were the tree, sadly). After the detention week, he had never once failed to walk you home, always making sure you were safely inside before leaving. 

Now, three months later, he was still waiting for you outside the school like he was every other day, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, eyes closed as he was lost in whatever music he was listening to through his earphones. With the winter sunset as a backdrop and the relaxed expression on his face, Hyunjin seriously looked even more handsome than normally did, and you didn’t even know how that was possible.

Pushing down your embarrassing thoughts, you quietly walked up to him and kicked his shin lightly. You honestly didn’t know how the “bad boy” Hyunjin persona was so ingrained in the school population when he would literally lose his shit if someone so much as tapped his shoulder without him knowing they were there.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” he groaned, bending down to rub his leg dramatically, “I wait for you until six o’clock to walk you home, and this is how you repay me?” 

You raised your eyebrows in amusement, “Didn’t you say you had to model for the photography club after school, and that’s why it was only ‘convenient’ that we went home at the same time?” 

Hyunjin blushed, “Yeah, of course. That’s what I meant, dummy,” he said defensively, and you wondered if he knew how adorable he looked with his cheeks puffed out in a frown.

“You’re the dummy,” flicking his forehead as he was still crouched down, you began walking to the school exit, “Photography club doesn’t even meet today.” 

Imagining Hyunjin’s face with glee, you kept walking, knowing that the athletics god would catch up to you in no time. Whenever your Class President duties caused you to stay after school, Hyunjin always found a stupid excuse to stay after as well. To say they were stupid was an understatement, since he had reused the same one multiple times and had even once mentioned joining a club that didn’t even exist anymore. But you guess it was kinda cute, seeing how determined he was to walk with you even when it meant cutting into his personal time.

Hyunjin caught up to you with a brisk walk (which shows just how fast he was and how athletically incompetent you were), huffing. His cheeks still had a dash of pink on them as he complained, “Could you stop embarrassing me like that?”

“I’ll stop embarrassing you when you stop lying about having reasons to stay after school other than to walk with me.”

“Me? Walk you home?” Hyunjin’s face contorted into a mock horrified expression, “Preposterous.” 

You couldn’t hold in your laugh this time, and you sent a weak punch to his shoulder. These were your favorite times with Hyunjin, the moments in life where neither of you had to worry about your status, your friends, your daily troubles. It was like nothing else mattered in these moments except you and Hyunjin.

As the two of you rounded to the school bus station, you felt two fingers gently graze against the back of your hand, sending electricity up your arm. It was these hints, these subtle actions that cause you to wonder if Hyunjin was actually trying to make a move. Yet, the thought would leave in less than a millisecond, because his fingers have never made it to the palm of your hand, much less to the point of lacing them together with yours. 

“Why didn’t you say you were home alone yesterday?” he asked, leaning against a pole and silently offering you the only seat at the station.

“Okay, I’m one hundred percent convinced that you hired a spy to stalk me at this point,” you accused with no bite in your voice, “How in the world did you know that?”

“Jisung saw you walking to school this morning, and your mom always drops you off if she was home.”

“So, Jisung is your spy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, with a strange amount of bite in his voice, “Like I would spend money to employ Jisung. I wouldn’t even accept his services if they were free.”

“Did something happen between you and Jisung again?”

Now that you were objectively friends with Hyunjin as well as Jisung, it didn’t take long for you to see the evident tension between the two. From what you’ve heard from both sides (and Jeongin, because Jeongin can get all the tea with his dimple smile and puppy eyes), it’s a lot better than before, but you couldn’t help but sense a sliver of agitation in Hyunjin’s voice whenever your conversations led to Jisung.

The boy turned away from you, staring at the pavement, “Not exactly,” he grumbled, and you decided not to push, since Hyunjin was the type to come to you if he needed your advice. It was clear that there was something, though, and you were thinking about how you could squeeze it out of either Jeongin or Jisung when the bus pulled up abruptly. 

Seeing that it was already quite late for a school day, the bus was pretty empty, so Hyunjin and you got your pick of seating. As always, he offered you the window seat, apparently because “it’s farther away from the aisle where strange men could bother you.” It was a pretty valid reason, you had to admit, and you slipped into the seat without much protest. 

As the bus chugged on, passing multiple stops, you began to notice that Hyunjin’s normally excited eyes were dropping slightly, as if he were about to fall asleep. That’s weird, you thought, because Hyunjin did look a bit tired in his classes, too. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you saw his head fall for a split second before he caught himself and stayed awake for a moment before falling back into an uncomfortable slumber. 

Still, no matter how much he tossed and turned, he never seemed to lean to your direction. It was too obvious to be a coincidence and you wondered why it felt like Hyunjin was subconsciously trying to avoid falling asleep on you. 

Gently, you tapped his thigh to get his attention, but not in a way that could wake him up abruptly. God knows that’s the worst thing you could do to a person.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered ever so slightly at your call, “if you want–um, if you want to lay your head on my shoulder, you can.” 

If he were fully conscious, you were sure that he would’ve refused, making some stupid excuse while trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. It was always a mystery to you, why Hyunjin, who soaked up physical interaction like a sponge, would always seem to shy away from it whenever it came to you. Were you just so out of his radar that he doesn’t even want to give you the false hope? 

But in that moment on the bus, Hyunjin was probably too sleepy and too delirious to think about your words carefully, because he accepted your offer by snuggling against you. Snuggling. You. He rubbed his head against your shoulder, his soft black hair tickling your face, and his arms snaked around yours, holding it tightly. You thanked your lucky stars that he was fast asleep, since your face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. 

As he slept on, you finally got an up close look at his face (not that you didn’t have the chances otherwise, you just always found yourself looking away whenever he got too close), and you frowned when you noticed a pallid yellow looking bruise on his left cheek, skillfully masked with makeup. You also take note of the scar under his eye, not covered with any foundation but still blending in with the rest of his complexion. You remember when he got that, about a month ago, because he had knocked on your door with a sheepish smile and a dark shades of purple mottling his face. 

Naturally, you had freaked out, dragging him into the kitchen to nurse his wounds. You eventually learned that this wasn’t a one time occurrence, especially since he began showing up at your door on various days with some sort of bodily injury. 

Hyunjin never told you where the bruises came from, except when he reassured you that they weren’t from his parents. It was no secret that bad boy Hwang Hyunjin got into fights, came to school with bruised knuckles and cuts on his cheeks, but now that you knew him, now that you knew Hwang Hyunjin wasn’t all just thorns and sharp edges, you worried for him. 

In the back of your head, you wondered if the boy knew how much you cared, or if he even bothered to know at all. 

The bus soon neared your stop, and you sadly had to break up what was quite a comfortable position for both of you. Shaking your shoulder lightly, and brushing the hair out of his face, you whispered, “Hyunjin, it’s time to get up.” 

The boy groaned, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder stubbornly, but you began pulling away, “Idiot, we’re gonna miss our stop!” 

“Okay, okay,” Hyunjin mumbled a reply, obviously still only half conscious, but awake enough to sit upright just as the bus pulled into the stop. A little worried that he might collapse, you kept a firm grip on his arm even as the two of you stepped onto the street. It wasn’t until you could feel him steadying himself that you let go. 

The two of you walked in silence, falling into routine. The streets in your neighborhood were relatively empty like usual, which got a little unnerving when you had to walk home yourself. Even with Hyunjin walking home, you still found yourself on high alert whenever you heard a strange sound, or felt the chill of someone watching you. 

“Oh my god,” Startled, you whipped around to glance at Hyunjin, who brought his hands up to cover his face in mortification, “I fell asleep on you, didn’t I?”

You nodded silently, trying to act more casual than you were actually feeling. The blush on Hyunjin’s face could be seen through his fingers as he visibly panicked, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would—“

Waving your hands frantically, you dismissed his worries, “It’s okay! I asked you first.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were curiously wide, “You did?”

You laughed off your embarrassment, nodding, “Yeah. It was pretty cute, to be honest,” you added as an afterthought.

(You didn’t know, but this was the moment Hyunjin began to think—began to hope—that maybe his feelings were being reciprocated. If you were at least half as in love with him as he was with you, he would be satisfied.)

As the house came into view, the embarrassment of the moment died down, and Hyunjin began to grow talkative again, “Are you home alone again?”

“For a little,” you said, staring at the pavement, “My mom’s coming home really early morning.”

When you unlocked the door, Hyunjin silently keeping watch of the street, you started hesitantly, “Do you want to come in and chill?”

This wasn’t the first time you’ve asked, and Hyunjin has hung out at your place multiple times. For a moment, you thought he would say yes; you could see it in his eyes and his body language that he wanted to stay. 

“Nah, I can’t today,” Hyunjin said sadly, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve got work.”

You felt a sudden pang of annoyance (and hurt, because Hyunjin didn’t have to lie just so he didn’t have to spend time with you), “You and I both know you don’t have a job, Hyunjin,” you tried to keep the taste of bitterness out of your voice. 

Despite your efforts to hide your growing disappointment, it was at moments like this where it was clear that Hyunjin could read you like an open book. Immediately, he moved towards you, his expression apologetic as his hands twitched, almost as if he was holding himself back from reaching for you.

“I really wish I could stay,” Hyunjin tried to look you in the eyes directly to convey his sincerity, “It’s just, Channie-hyung wants us to do this thing tonight, and I really can’t ditch this time.” 

You shook your head, “It’s fine, really” you said, and you genuinely wanted to believe it was. It wasn’t your place to be clingy, you reminded yourself, and it certainly wasn’t your place to be disappointed that he wouldn’t stay with you. 

Hyunjin could only stare forlornly as you entered the house, the air between you thick with a tension that hasn’t existed since you first started interacting. Before you closed the door, you managed a smile as you said, “Tell the boys I said hi.” 

iii.

What a disaster. 

The moment you shut the door on Hyunjin, you sank to the wood floor, your head in your hands as you sighed dejectedly. Three months. Three bloody months, and the two of you still faced the same problem as you did when you hated each other. 

Why was it that when it came to Hwang Hyunjin, you were just unable to voice your true feelings?

It was easier for a while, when you had finally learned to look past his expensive clothes to see the vulnerable boy underneath. It was easier back then to be true to yourself, because the two of you shared a mutual understanding that made you close. You found a kindred spirit in a world full of lies and expectations, and he found someone who was willing to accept him for who he was. 

Now, you found yourself just as flustered, as helpless as when you first met him, because in just three months, it was not an exaggeration to say that Hwang Hyunjin held your heart in his hands. It terrified you, because every time you spoke to him, it felt like every casual conversation, every brush of the hand, every giggle meant the world to you. And the worst part was that he probably didn’t even know. 

Hwang Hyunjin made you speechless in the best way. He made you laugh in a way you didn’t even know you could. He made you forget about the unpaid bills, the upcoming exams, the college applications that had consumed every moment of your life. He freed you from your own anxiety, calling you late at night just so you wouldn’t be up alone studying. He helped you with everything that you had always thought you would have to bear alone, and that was only a portion of why he was so special to you.

Maybe, just maybe, you were ready to accept that you were in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

After what felt like an eternity, you pushed yourself off the floor, wiping some wetness off your cheeks. Not even a boy like Hyunjin was going to distract you from doing your work, and you got quickly lost in your house chores while blasting your “sad girl hours playlist.” 

On top of your seemingly miserable love life, there were a lot of things that you worried about as a senior in high school. Your mom still worked three jobs, and after taking on extra hours for one of them, you barely ever see her any more. If you were being honest, you had been mulling over the idea of not applying for colleges and just going straight to work. After all, any university would cost a shit ton of money that you didn’t have. 

People would be mad, you thought amusedly, if you made it known that you weren’t planning on applying to universities. Your teachers would be most furious, not because they actually care, but because their star student dropping out after high school would be absolutely scandalous for their reputation. Jisung would be mad too, because he knew how much you studied throughout high school and knew how much you wanted to graduate with a degree. 

And Hyunjin—Hyunjin would probably offer to pay for your education if you so much as mentioned that you didn’t have the funds to attend a university, and that absolutely could not happen. You didn’t want his pity money, and you certainly didn’t want to feel that you were leeching off him. 

As much as you wanted a diploma to hang in your house, you’d rather work right after high school than beg for money from anyone.

So, it really looked like you were going to be a post-high school dropout. 

Awesome. 

You slaved away over your housework until it was well past 10 pm, which was when you realized that it was a good idea to sit your ass down and eat some dinner. With some effort, you put together a gourmet meal of ramen and some leftover bulgogi, and were eating contently in the kitchen when your phone buzzed. You jumped at the sound, because it’s rare that anyone would be calling you at this hour.

Without even glancing at the caller ID, you picked up, knowing that it was probably your mom (or a panicked Jisung who forgot what the homework was), “Hello?”

“You picked up,” a familiar voice replied, sounding relieved. The line cracked slightly as your heart skipped. 

“Hyunjin?” you asked, standing up already, “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a moment of silence, and you were literally one second away from dropping everything you had to run to Hyunjin’s house when he spoke again, “No, everything’s fine. Just—“

Hyunjin trailed off before speaking tiredly, “I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.” 

“I’m flattered, I really am,” you said, blushing slightly even though he couldn’t see you, “But something tells me there’s more to the story. Where are you?” 

“I’m—,” there was a strained groan, and you immediately grew alert, “I’m actually on your street. Do you think I could crash at your place for a bit?” 

You were stunned for a moment, too shocked to say anything, and Hyunjin immediately accepted the rejection with a bitter chuckle, “Guess not.” 

“No, no, no!” you said frantically, “I was just caught off guard. Of course you can stay. I’ll come let you in right now.” 

“Wait,” Hyunjin spoke sternly as you walked to the door, “Don’t open the door until I knock on it. There’s some drunk people walking around here.” 

“There’s always at least a couple drunk people on this street,” you said mildly, but did whatever Hyunjin asked of you anyway. 

“I know,” he replied, “but I’m still allowed to worry.” 

His voice sounded close, and you could very faintly hear his real voice through the door as you heard someone shuffling around before knocking lightly. You hung up the phone and took the deadbolt out of your entrance. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” you started as you pulled open the door, “but what exactly warrants a visit at ten—oh my god, Hyunjin.” 

Standing in your doorway was a sheepish looking Hwang Hyunjin, more bruised, battered, and bloodier than ever. 

iv. 

“I know I’ve looked better, but can you please stop staring at me like I’m turning into a llama?” 

There was no time for small talk, at least for you. Without so much as an indication that you had heard him, you yanked him into the hallway by his jacket, shutting the door quickly behind you. Hyunjin yelped, but followed you obediently and without much resistance. 

Shoving him unceremoniously into a chair around the dining table, you immediately began fussing around him, cupping his face in your hands to check for cuts on his face, running your hands through his hair gently to feel for bruises. You didn’t have any idea what you were thinking at the time, only that Hyunjin was hurt, Hyunjin is in pain, why is Hyunjin bleeding. Then, you attacked his leather jacket, taking it off rather roughly when you observed that he didn’t seem to be majorly injured. Your hands then dived for his white t-shirt before you regained an ounce of self control and held yourself back. 

“Can you take your shirt off?” you tried to push away your embarrassment as you gestured to the white piece of clothing. Hyunjin had never been injured enough for you to have to do any work on his chest or abdomen, and now you were being faced with the alarming prospect of seeing Hyunjin with his shirt off for the first time. 

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, “You seemed well on your way to do it yourself just earlier,” he sounded rather amused, and your cheeks flushed bright pink.

“I’m not going to take your shirt off for you, Hwang Hyunjin,” you snapped, and turned away to grab some disinfectant wipes and bandages. You heard Hyunjin chuckle softly as he wriggled out of his t-shirt. 

In any other occasion, you would’ve been flustered beyond belief, blushing and making a quick exit. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had never been close with many boys, certainly not to the point where you’ve seen any of them up close without a shirt. And it wasn’t a surprise to see that Hyunjin was really fucking hot. 

But that day, all you could see were the dark purple bruises mottling his body, the thin slashes that looked eerily like knife cuts. The embarrassment dissipated, and you could only stare in horror because why why why—

Hyunjin had grown silent as well, watching you carefully as you knelt down in front of him and began cleaning his wounds. He didn’t flinch when the antiseptic touched his open cuts, and you found your hands uncontrollably trembling as you dabbed as his wounds. 

You could feel frustrated tears pooling in your eyes as all you could focus on were those injuries, those god forsaken injuries, and—

“Hey, hey,” you felt a large, gentle hand over yours as they stopped your movement, “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?” 

Blinking the tears away, your hands fell limp in his, and you wanted nothing more than to sink into Hyunjin’s embrace, “Why are you showing up like this again?” you whimpered, trying to keep your voice steady, “You were literally here last week and now it’s even worse—“ 

“Well, I never asked to get beat up,” Hyunjin snorted, and his indifference to his own health hurt you. Is he completely oblivious to the fact that every injury he suffers pains you too? 

“Where are you even going to get this hurt every week?” you finally find it in you to ask, because you’ve had enough of Hyunjin showing up with wounds that you didn’t know how he got. 

Hyunjin tensed, you felt his hand stiffen over yours, “I...can’t say,” he spoke slowly. 

“Why not?” you asked, frustrated. You turned your hand over to lace your fingers into his, a gamble on your part, but Hyunjin reciprocated easily, holding your hand as if it was the only thing he wanted to do.

“I just can’t,” Hyunjin repeated tiredly, looking at your intertwined hands intently with an emotion in his gaze that you couldn’t read.

“Are you not allowed to tell me, or do you just not want to?”

Hyunjin groaned, a twinge of annoyance in his voice, “Why are you so caught up about where I was?”

His tone of voice set you off the wrong way, and you retracted your hands as you replied defensively, “Well, if you’re going to be bleeding out in my kitchen every week, don’t you think I have the right to know?”

Suddenly, the look in Hyunjin’s eyes changed. He was no longer the open, vulnerable Hyunjin you just saw a moment ago. The air around the two of you was electric with tension, and his expression grew ever so slightly colder as he asked quietly, “Am I not welcome here anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hyunjin,” you replied simply. You will never reach a point in your life where you wouldn’t drop everything to help Hyunjin if he ever needed it, maybe because in your heart, you knew he’d do the same for you.

“You’re never unwelcome here,” you stated honestly, before gesturing to him and the pile of bloody wipes and bandages on the counter, “but this has to stop.”

From his posture and his expression, you could tell that Hyunjin was far from calming down as he scoffed, “And what exactly is this?”

He was deflecting, you knew it, but you weren’t so infatuated that you were going to let him walk all over you, especially since he was the one coming to you for help, “What I mean by this,” you hissed, “is you coming over with bruises and cuts that you can’t explain. It’s you showing up at ten in the night and expecting me silently patch you up without asking you questions. It’s you,” your voice cracked ever so slightly, “coming with injuries that just get worse by the week, and you still won’t tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Hyunjin stood up abruptly, his expression so icy that you could feel a strange chill just by looking at him, “You’re not my mother, so stop acting like one,” he snapped. Hyunjin seemed to regret his words the moment he said them, it was a flash of guilt in his eyes that was instantaneous and sharp, but he didn’t apologize, gritting his teeth as pride got the best of him.

“You’re right,” you heard yourself say, walking over to him slowly. Grabbing the set of bandages and antiseptic wipes, you shoved them into Hyunjin’s arms, “I’m not your mother. I thought I made that crystal clear the day I lied to her just to protect you.”

“That should be everything you need,” you give a quick glance at the materials in Hyunjin’s arms, “I’m not going to tell you to get out. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. You know where everything is, since you invite yourself over so much. But I’m done helping, at least until you start being truthful.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes lost their intensity as he watched you swing your bag over your shoulder. Putting the bandages on the counter, he asked in confusion, “Where are you going?”

“Out.” 

“It’s ten in the evening,” Hyunjin retorted, moving to put on his leather jacket as well.

“That didn’t seem to stop you.”

“That’s totally different.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Of course, everything’s different for you.”

“Stop being difficult,” the boy sighed, as if he was tired of fighting with you, but that only infuriated you more, because why was he speaking like you were the one making things hard for him?

“Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair then,” you said humorlessly, pulling open the door to welcome the biting cold. It seemed like it was only then that Hyunjin realized that you were being serious about leaving, because his eyes grew wide as he stretched out his hand instinctively.

“Wait, Y/N—,” you slammed the door shut before Hyunjin could finish. You could hear him making his way towards you, walking as fast as he could down the hallway, so you ran.You sprinted down the street, turning corners by instinct to get as far away from Hyunjin as you could. 

Congratulations, you told yourself as tears dripped down your face.

You just pushed away the only person you had ever desperately wanted in your life.

v. 

By the time you made it to Jisung’s house, you were probably bawling. He lived pretty close to you, which was actually the reason the two of you became friends in the first place. Unlike Hyunjin, Jisung wasn’t wealthy. He wasn’t even well off, and you knew his parents were often out late at night to work double shifts, just like your mom. So, there was a high possibility that Jisung was home alone.

You punched the doorbell with unnecessary ferocity, your arms crossed tightly to defend yourself from the cold. To your luck, Jisung was still awake, and you heard him shouting as the door unlocked.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?” He asked worriedly, pulling you into a quick hug, “It’s so late and—are you crying? What happened?”

Jisung dragged you into the house, sitting you down in the living room as he wrapped you in a thick blanket. His immediate kindness only made you more emotional, and you continued sobbing into your hands. Jisung had disappeared for a few minutes to return with a cup of hot tea, since you were freezing.

“Woah, woah, what’s going on?” 

Gently, he pulled your hands away from your face. You must’ve looked like a mess, red-faced with tears all over, but Jisung didn’t mention anything, only crouching in front of you while gently comforting you. 

“I fought with Hyunjin,” you said when you could finally breathe properly.

Jisung frowned, “Was Hyunjin at your place?”

You nodded, “He comes over every week whenever he’s all bruised up and hurt, a-and today I guess I was just really sick of him coming to me but he won’t ever tell me what happened and then everything just blew up—“

“Y/N, breathe,” Jisung stroked your hair to calm you down, because you were hyperventilating at that point, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“He hates me.”

“I don’t think Hyunjin will ever be capable of hating you,” Jisung let out a chuckle, as if he knew something you didn’t, “As cringy as it is to say, that idiot cares about you more than he cares about anyone else in the universe. He was probably was just too riled up from earlier to think about what he was saying.”

“What happened?”

Jisung looked conflicted, and for a moment, you thought that he wouldn’t tell you either, “He got into a fight,” he said cautiously, as if he were treading on thin water.

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but scoff, “Really? I thought he just fell down every single staircase he walked on.” 

Jisung cracked a smile, looking visibly relieved that you were able to joke around, “Hyunjin…has a knack for pissing off the wrong people, and that tends to get him in trouble.”

“He’s also the son of some really fucking rich parents, so there’s eyes on him wherever we go. Whether he wants it or not, people will know who he is,” Jisung continued, moving to sit beside you on the couch, “It didn’t help that freshman year Hwang Hyunjin was angst embodied in an attractive, athletic body and he was able to punch people left and right but still relatively get away with it.”

“As much as he got away with it before, that shit catches up to you eventually, and now there’s a lot of pissed off people that want to settle the score with him.”

“What, so he just hosts a fight club where everyone lines up to kick his ass?” 

Jisung laughed, “I think you’re underestimating Hyunjin, Y/N.” 

“Well, he’s the one showing up beat up every week, so I don’t have much to go on,” you replied sarcastically.

“Trust me when I say this, Hyunjin knows how to throw a punch,” Jisung said, and the truthfulness behind his voice slightly worried you, “And Hyunjin doesn’t really look for trouble anymore, at least not like before. If anything, he’s getting caught up in shit mostly because of us.” 

“Us?” you frowned, “Who’s ‘us’?” 

“Did you really think that Stray Kids was just a dumb posse name we made up to be the next Mean Girls of high school?” 

“Absolutely, and you will never convince me otherwise,” you said, deadpan.

Jisung rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair, “Can you stop deflecting? I’m trying to be serious and answer your question,” a smile betrayed the corner of his lips, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter just spending time with him.

“Look, Stray Kids don’t just prance around the school and do dumb stuff,” Jisung said, “We do bad things, things that could get us in huge trouble. We hack into companies to expose exploitation. We steal and sell in markets that absolutely are not legal. None of us are good people.”

You were still reeling from the load of information that just got dumped on you, but you weren’t going to allow Jisung to fall into that self-deprecating hole, “You’re a good person,” you said firmly, “The rest of the boys are good people, too. You wouldn’t be comforting me in the middle of the night if you weren’t a good person.”

Jisung managed a smile, “You’re always so determined to see the good in people you care about,” he gently took your hand in his, “I wish you could stop and see the good in yourself sometimes.”

There wasn’t anything you could say to that. You knew your worth, and you knew your limitations, so what was he talking about? You weren’t ever insecure about your status either, just bitter.

The boy seemed to understand your disbelief at his words, because he asked softly, “Why can’t you accept that Hyunjin is in love with you?”

You leapt out of your seat, standing away from Jisung as if stung, “He’s not in love with me!” you snapped, your anger rising to hide your sadness, “We were friends at most, and after today, I’m not sure we’re even acquaintances anymore.” 

Jisung grew heated too, because he was tired of seeing you unconsciously hold yourself back from finding love because you thought you didn’t deserve it, “You’re so observant about everyone around you. You saw that Jeongin had a cold days before we realized. You say that Chan was having problems sleeping, so you lightened his schoolwork. You saw that Minho liked to dance, so you made arrangements for him to join the school dance club even though he wasn’t a student. You notice everything, big and small, so why can’t you see that everything Hyunjin does revolves around you?” 

“Hyunjin has grown up so much in just these last three months, because of you,” he spoke softly, “He stopped smoking, which we had all agreed was a lost cause since we’ve tried to stop him for years. He hasn’t brought a random girl home for months. I know you’re stressed out because he shows up all beat up every week, but he would’ve shown up every other day if you had known him before. He doesn’t even like to fight anymore, it’s more of a necessity and a consequence from his past.”

“He’s so happy now, because of you,” Jisung whispered, pulling you back to the couch, “Why can’t you see that you mean the world to him?”

“I can’t,” you said, trying desperately to control your voice, “If I give myself that slightest bit of hope, I’ll be disappointed. If I let him in completely, he could destroy me. Jisung, look at me now, I’m trying to push him out and everything he does still hurts,” your voice cracked as you struggled to hold back your tears.

“We’ll just hurt each other,” you said quietly, Jisung pulling you into his arms as your cried silently. He silently wished to whoever was listening that you’d see Hyunjin would never, not in a million years, wish you pain. He was forced to watch for months as the two of you teetered around each other, too afraid to make a move but so desperate for each other’s company.

“We’re too different to make it work, Jisung.”

vi.

Going back to school the next day was torture. You had stayed the night at Jisung’s house, too drained to walk back home when it was so dark. You didn’t feel any better in the morning, and when you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your face was still puffy and blotchy from crying yourself to sleep. 

Jisung and you walked to school together, and he seemed determined to make you feel better. You humored him as best you could, because you really were grateful for his company. Jisung could make you forget about your problems, if only for a moment, and he joked and quipped the whole bus ride to the school. 

By the time you made it to your locker, Jisung following you with his books already in hand, you had managed to push the Hyunjin fiasco out of your head almost entirely. Yes, it still hurt, like a dull ache that wouldn’t go away, but you weren’t going to let him affect the rest of your life. 

“I’m hurt,” Jisung was saying with that adorable pout on his face, “Stop slandering my breakfast!”

“Half of the egg shell was literally in my rice,” you replied, the corner of your lip quirking up amusedly, “I can still feel the scratches in my throat.”

“Oh, very funny,” Jisung let out an exaggerated laugh, “Remind me never to cook for you again.”

“That’s fine by me. Honestly, maybe I should make breakfast for you and give it to you at school. After this morning, I am highly concerned,” you said cheekily, before you sensed someone watching you. Turning around, your smile fell as Hyunjin looked at you from down the hall, his gaze unreadable. 

The two of you stared at each other, and all of the pain from the night before came flooding back. He was still sporting those nasty cuts on his face, and his knuckles were wrapped poorly, no doubt done after you had left. He looked conflicted, as if wondering whether he should confront you. You probably had the same look on your face because, as much as you two had your differences, you didn’t want to leave any bad blood between the two of you. Hyunjin’s body moves towards you as his mouth opened to say your name and–

“Y/N, are you coming?” Jisung called from behind you, delicately tugging at your sleeve, and the connection snapped like a dry rubber band. Hyunjin stopped in his tracks, his whole body physically tensing up as if he had been slapped. The guilty expression had disappeared, and as you turned to give Jisung a gesture that you’ll follow him soon, you noticed his jaw clench angrily. His hand clenched into a tight fist as he leveled you with that infamous Hwang Hyunjin glare, the one that froze your heart. With a newfound vigor, he spun away from you, and without a look back, turned to walk down the opposite direction of the hallway without even giving you a chance to speak. 

Utterly stunned by what had just happened, you blankly followed Jisung as he gently led you into the physics classroom, only answering him with nods or shakes of your head. 

In that split second, Hyunjin’s eyes had flashed with so many emotions that you couldn’t decipher all of them clearly. Anger, frustration, coldness were just the few you could see. You found part of you wanting to run after him, to yank him by the arm and ask him what the fuck his problem was. But the final bell stopped you in your tracks, and you turned reluctantly towards your physics classroom.

As you pulled out your textbooks to get ready for class, your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the empty desk three seats to your left. Hyunjin’s normal desk. Was he skipping again? Frowning, you unconsciously began tallying the amount of absences he’s received in the last month. What if the teacher gets fed up suddenly and sends him to detention? 

Without any conscious thought, you had begun fretting over Hyunjin again. Then, halfway through class and with your notebook filled with less than satisfactory doodles, you came to the mind boggling realization that it wasn’t your job to worry anymore, especially not when he paid back your kindness with distrust. 

“Y/N, do you want to stop daydreaming and solve this equation on the board?” A sharp voice pierced your thoughts, and you flinched at your teacher’s pointed glare. You took a long look at the question as your brain began to put the pieces together, and stood up calmly, taking the chalk from your teacher’s hand. 

Feeling the scorn boring down your back (your teachers never really liked you, the result of being too smart but too poor to afford full tuition), you solved the problem methodically and without hesitation, not even glancing at your teacher’s face. You knew it was right, anyway.

Jisung gave you a discreet thumbs up as you sat back down, shutting out your teacher and her obnoxious droning. A discreet slip of ripped notebook paper slid onto your desk, and you turned to look at Jisung who raised his eyebrows expectantly. With a quick roll of your eyes, you quietly glanced down at the note.

Did anything happen with Hyunjin today?

You scowled, scribbling furiously. No, it’s literally nine in the morning. Focus on class, idiot.

Stop moping, you scolded yourself. Your world doesn’t revolve around Hyunjin. You’ve gotten by every day without him, and now that he won’t be there anymore, you can still get by. You thought of his smile, the one that made his eyes disappear, the one that made him lean against you for support from laughing too hard. It hurt, but after seeing Hyunjin’s hardened gaze in the morning, you supposed it really was too late.

You spent the rest of the day drowning yourself in your studies, and Hyunjin’s seat remained empty.

vii.

School felt like those bombs that had frustratingly slow countdowns to them, and you were never as glad to leave as you were that day. Fortunately for you, student council wasn’t scheduled to meet after school, and you were one of the first people to step out of the building.

Your mother wasn’t picking you up this time. Actually, she'd been coming by less and less once she had found out that you actually had someone to accompany you home. You glanced at the time on your phone: 4 pm. And unconsciously, you found yourself sitting down on the side of the steps, waiting for your usual partner. 

The moment it dawned on you, your face flushed, because how childish was it of you to expect Hyunjin to walk you home? You shuffled around awkwardly, but didn’t stand up. As much as you hated to admit it, you really wanted to walk with Hyunjin. Maybe it was just a safety issue, and maybe it was just your hope for a final attempt to patch together your fragmented relationship.

Besides, despite everything that would happen in his life, Hyunjin always remembered to go home with you. It was almost a ritual at this point, and as the minutes passed with no Hyunjin in sight, began to regret taking his presence for granted. 

Five minutes, then ten minutes, and finally fifteen minutes passed, and you were ready to give up. Sighing quietly, you swung your backpack over your shoulder and you began to walk home alone. You stared at the school door forlornly, as if your staring would make him magically appear. Of course it didn’t. 

You could almost hear him as you walked by yourself. You could almost smell his expensive cologne, hear his high pitched giggles, feel his hand brushing over yours. And more than any other moment in the past two days, you felt utterly, completely alone again. 

It was an “again” situation, you tried to tell yourself, this isn’t any different from middle school, when all you knew were loud snickers, damp notebooks, and marked up desks. You were back to square zero, but the most painful part was that you had gotten to at least square ten smoothly before getting emotionally sucker punched in the gut. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand as you walked down the empty streets, listening to whatever music you had saved on your playlists. Actually, a lot of the music you listened to was recommended by Hyunjin whenever you hung out at his apartment. He had pretty good music taste, if you had to admit.

It was a text from Jisung, asking if you had gotten home safely. You replied with a smiley face, since you weren’t exactly at home yet but there were only a couple of streets left. 

You were still paying attention to your phone when your peripheral vision caught two men hanging out on the left side of the street. It was a rather narrow alleyway, and now that you were already walking, there wasn’t a way you could turn back without seeming obvious. One looked frighteningly well built, and the other was lean and tall, smoking a cigarette casually. Your eyes kept them in check as you tried to pick up your pace, and it soon became pretty clear that neither of them were drunk, which was suspicious. Only drunk people mingled in streets like this one.

You felt a leering pair of eyes track your movement as you passed them, your heart beat erratically as you prayed that you were only imagining things. The smell of smoke filled your nose, but you refused to give away any indication that you had noticed the men. You were five feet past them and beginning to lower your guard when you felt it. An unfamiliar hand grabbed your shoulder, and your heart jumped up to your throat. 

There was no time to check whether the hand was hostile or not, so you reacted instantly, whipping around to slam your elbow into the outstretched arm. It was the big man, who grunted in surprise and let go of your shoulder instinctively. You took the split second to start running, but your meager attack did little to deter such a well built man, and he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you as you screamed. 

You thrashed and thrashed, kicking and punching with very little force behind it. Your brain ran on overdrive, and in a last ditch effort, you managed to yank out the metal hair clip in your hair. It wasn’t sharp, but it did have a blunt pointed edge, and as your long hair fell out of its bun, you slammed the clip into the man’s thigh. 

It broke through the skin, you could feel it and hear it as the man howled. Without missing a beat, you rammed it into the same spot again, and his hold on your waist loosened. Moving around, you stabbed his leg one more time before you managed to slither away, wasting no time as you bolted as fast as you could.

A sharp pain caused you to shriek; you had forgotten about the second person who finally decided it was time to get involved. He caught the ends of your long hair, and with a harsh tug, he yanked you to the ground, your hands scraping along the rough pavement.

“I have to give it to you,” the man sneered as you scrambled to regain your bearings, “You weren’t as easy as I thought you would be.” 

As he thought? Was he waiting for you? You didn’t even know who he was! Your brain was woozy from adrenaline, and your thoughts ran a mile a minute. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone fight Yekwon like that,” the man sounded mildly intrigued, as if studying a surprising science experiment, “And since he’s over there moaning like a bitch, I guess I’ll have to return the favor for him.”

Without warning, a foot slammed into your stomach and you gasped for air, the pain spreading all over your body as you curled around yourself. Something was definitely bruised or cracked or broken, and you couldn’t hold the tears that spilled, every breath you took sending a wave of shock from your abdomen. 

You just wanted it to end. The fight had left you, and when the man pulled you back up on your feet using the back of your collar, you could only struggle half heartedly. He seemed displeased that you kept your head down, trying desperately to avoid eye contact, and he pulled your hair backwards, forcing you to look at him.

“I have to admit, you’re pretty cute,” In any situation, the man would have been relatively good looking, but all you could see was a monster that you couldn’t escape, “I can see why he likes you.”

The smile on his face turned manic, the hand tangled in your hair moved like a flash, slapping you so hard your face went numb, “You shouldn’t waste your time with the likes of him,” he sounded sad, “I’m much better company, don’t you think-?”

“Really? Assaulting random girls on the streets,” you could almost cry because you knew that voice. You were sure it was him, even though the man’s body blocked you from his sight, “Damn, Minhyuk, you just keep lowering my expectations.”

“You insult me,” Despite being caught, Minhyuk’s voice rang gleefully, his grip going back to your hair as he swung you into view, “Do you think I have that much time on my hands?”

You’ve seen Hyunjin angry before. You’ve seen when his innocence is overcome by the darkness in his heart. You’ve seen the many faces of Hyunjin that he had when his walls were up and armed. But the moment the realization hit him that it was you, Hyunjin had never looked more utterly terrifying.

“Shocked?” Minhyuk laughed, unaware of Hyunjin’s change in attitude as he lapped up his own small victory, “Did you really think you could fuck with my business without some payback?” 

“You hit her.” 

Hyunjin’s absolute calm was unsettling, causing shivers down your spine as you watched Hyunjin fall deeper and deeper into his own rage. The light in his eyes had faded, and was replaced with a look of cold fury. He stared at you, growing angrier with every wound he counted. 

A moment passed and a whirl of black flew at you. The grip on your hair immediately disappeared as Minhyuk was suddenly thrown back by a bullet-like punch to the face. You rolled away, taking cover on one side of the street, watching as Hyunjin destroyed Minhyuk one punch at a time.

“You fucking hit her,” he was snarling now, grabbing hold of Minhyuk’s shirt and slamming him against the wall. In vain, the man tried to fight back, but a Hyunjin pushed over the edge wasn’t someone you could just beat. 

Jisung was right. Hyunjin could pack a punch. 

A chilling crack cut through the air as he snapped the man’s wrist with a deliberate force, “You don’t get to fucking touch her with your filthy fucking hands!”

Minhyuk fell to the floor, whimpering in pain, and the burly man stood farther away, his hand still clutching the wounds that continued to leak blood onto the ground. He stared at Hyunjin with a mix of hatred and fear, but didn’t make any moves to attack him. 

Hyunjin, after assessing the situation and knowing that the fight was over, ran to your side, his hands hovering over your face, but too afraid to touch you, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, fuck.”

Your heart couldn’t stop racing as you tried to control your breathing, “It’s fine,” you panted, a hand over your chest, “I’m fine.”

You didn’t notice the broken smile as Hyunjin repeated your words softly, “Yeah, you’ll be fine, I promise.”

As gently as he could, he pulled you up, swing his leather jacket over your shoulders as he maneuvered you onto his back. You instinctively buried your face in the crook of his neck as he murmured with the softness he’d only ever give to you, “Let’s patch you up at my place.”

Before he turned the corner away from the alley, he addressed the Minhyuk once more, his voice coming out as a low, frightening snarl, “If you so much as breath near Y/N again, I’ll break more than just your wrist.”

viii.

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because when you finally realized where you were, Hyunjin was already setting you down delicately on his couch. Even with his efforts to be as gentle as possible, every movement caused you pain, and you bit your lip to avoid crying out. Taking his bulky leather jacket off your shoulders, Hyunjin absorbed the sight of your unseemly wounds. 

His jaw clenched tightly with every bruise, every scratch that he saw, and he tore his eyes away from your body before he’d actually erupt in fury. 

“I’ll grab some supplies,” Hyunjin spoke softly, trying his best not to startle you, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Your instincts urged you to respond, but you couldn’t even expend the energy to nod, much less say anything. At the corner of your eye, you caught the helpless expression on Hyunjin’s face and your insides turned. The moment he was out of sight, your hand crept up to your stomach, which was rippling with low currents of pain. You gently felt around, and something was definitely bruised.

Hyunjin walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw the pained expression on your face as you clutched your stomach.

“Did he,” the boy gripped the bandages in his hand tightly, “did he touch you there too?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the pain, “No, but he kicked me pretty hard.”

“He kicked you,” Hyunjin repeated, his expression growing murderous, “I should’ve killed him.”

“Don’t. It’s just bruised, anyway,” you dismissed his worries, since Hyunjin didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Hyunjin didn’t look like he was convinced, but he let it slide for now. As the anger died down, he seemed to shrink in confidence. He avoided your eyes, gently starting to disinfect the multitude of scratches that marred your legs. You stared at him as he worked, your brain moving sluggishly as you tried to decipher his silence. 

He had begun methodically, obviously having cleaned injuries before. It made you wonder about the disaster that was Hyunjin’s bandages on his knuckles, especially since he seemed to know exactly what to do. As he made it to your arms, though, you noticed that Hyunjin had gradually started trembling. It was slight at first, his hand shaking as he wrapped a particularly nasty cut on your elbow, but as he worked down to your palms, it became rather alarming. You tried to catch his expression, but the long black hair hid his face from your view.

Hyunjin’s movements began to grow less steady as his hands began to grow out of control, and that was when you pulled yourself out of your trance-like state. Closing your fingers over the hand that was currently dabbing alcohol over your palm, you prodded gently, “Hyunjin, are you okay?”

The boy froze, his hand tensing in your grasp. You were beginning to worry that he had stopped breathing when he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and defeated, “God, I really don’t deserve you.”

Your heart jumped as you frowned, “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s my fault. This is all my fault,” Hyunjin said brokenly, “Minhyuk found you because of me. Minhyuk targeted you because of me. He fucking lay his hands on you,” his breath hitched as even the mention of the incident sent his blood boiling, “because I was too selfish to let you go.” 

You could only listen with your eyes wide as you felt Hyunjin clutch your hand like a lifeline.

“I always knew I would never be able to move forward from my past,” he started, “Even after Chan, even after clearing much of my name on files, I realized that it was hopeless, because no one will ever really forget my actions.”

“Chan told me to be careful, told me that spending so much time with you would put you in danger,” Hyunjin said quietly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, “But how could I stay away when you’re the one person in the world that actually makes me want to keep on living?”

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you couldn’t even spend time to mull over what essentially was an indirect confession, too busy trying to understand what Hyunjin was trying to get to, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said earnestly, finally looking at your directly as if trying to convey his sincerity, “I know you don’t think that’s true, but you mean more to me than anyone else in the universe. I’m not lying, Y/N, please understand—I need you to believe me, please—“

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” your unoccupied hand buried itself in Hyunjin’s hair as you rubbed his scalp placatingly because Hyunjin had begun to grow desperately frantic. 

He leaned into your touch, as if it brought him a sense of comfort that nothing else could in comparison, “I thought it was fine,” he whispered, “I’m with you all the time anyway, I could protect you if something happened. I was so fucking stupid, and the one day I couldn’t make it in time to walk you home, you got hurt.”

You hummed to show that you were still listening, your hands continuing to massage through his soft locks in an effort to calm him down. 

“I’m so jealous of Jisung,” Hyunjin confessed suddenly, catching you off guard, “He can spend time with you so comfortably, and you two are so close, I hate that I’ll never be able to understand you the way he does.”

“Jisung and I understand each other due to circumstances,” you agreed slowly, “But we don’t have to live similar lives to understand each other, Hyunjin. Don’t you think we’re connected by something else?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to reply before shutting it immediately, his eyes exposing his hesitation. When you gazed at him questioningly, he steeled his nerves, and spoke the words that had been threatening to burst out of his chest for the last three months.

“I’m in love with you.” 

Your jaw went slack, “Y-you’re—what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Hyunjin repeated more definitively, but his voice was tinged with a sort of resignation, as if he had completely accepted that his confession wouldn’t be reciprocated, “I have been for months.”

“But—you never,” you struggled to get your words out as, “you always pulled away from me whenever we started to get closer. You’re so clingy with everyone else but you always avoid me.”

Hyunjin chuckled,  “Y/N, if I let myself fall, I’ll never be able to stop liking you.”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“Because I can’t be in love with you!” Hyunjin said frustratedly, ”I’m too dangerous, too broken, too scared to treat you right. I’m not good for you, Y/N.”

“Why don’t I get to decide that?” you asked just as fervently.

Hyunjin flashed with hurt, “Stop phrasing it like that.”

You frowned, “Like what?”

“Like you love me.”

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sighed, a smile peeking at the corner of your lips, “I can tell you with absolute certainty. I’m also in love with you.”

Hyunjin froze for a long, torturous moment before his eyes grew impossibly wide as he grabbed both your hands, “Really?” His voice sounded so innocent and so hopeful, and all you wanted to do was to wrap your arms around him and fall in his embrace.

“Really.”

Hyunjin leaned in closer towards your face, your foreheads touching and his hands delicately placed on your arms, “I’m worried that I won’t be good enough for you,” he murmured, “I’m scared that I’ll put you in danger. You deserve the world, Y/N, and I’d give it to you in a heartbeat, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to.”

“I don’t need the world, Hyunjin,” you brushed his cheek as your face flushed a bright pink. He was so close, you could count his eyelashes and see every imperfection on his face, “I just want you to let me in.”

Hyunjin giggled, his breath fanning your face. Cupping your face with his hands, your lips were only millimeters apart when he answered, “Deal.”

As his lips pressed against yours with all the gentleness and love that Hyunjin held for you, your heart finally lost the weight you’d been carrying ever since you realized how far you’d fallen for him. And maybe, just maybe, you two loved each other enough to make this work.

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin scenarios #stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #my fics

[thebonggirll]

Chapter 28 - Group Study

Chapter 27

Bakugou completely avoided the Mineta conversation with Y/N, and even though a part of her understood why, mostly she thought that it wasn't a good enough reason. Ofcourse their mindset was different, but in order to be a hero, firstly they need to feel connected with humanity and care about their well being, right? Well, atleast that's what she thought.

The next day Aizawa made an announcement about their final term exams at the end of his class, "There's only one week left before your final exams begin. I'm sure you all are studying constantly right? Don't forget to keep training. The written exam is only one element. There's also the practical portion you should be worried about."

The whole class started flipping out. Well, not exactly everyone but just the others ranking under the top 10. Y/N didn't do well either. Her practical marks were usually high and boosted up her total marks. But now that the finals were here, she knew she needed to improve on both. It wasn't a necessity before but she wanted to attend the training camp with the others. And besides she wanted to do better and not let her family down. She couldn't afford to be ranked 16th again.

While some people were worrying over their lack of notes and understanding some subjects, Momo suggested on a group study session. She was from a rich family, and was surprisingly more than happy to help them study. Y/N needed some help too, but as she was about to talk to Momo, she noticed something. Kyoka was talking to Kaminari. It felt like she was on her own different and carefree zone. Y/N called out to her, "Hey Kyoka!"

"What?" she asked walking towards her, "Shouldn't you join too? Or are you gonna..." her eyes went to the first bench where Bakugou was sitting along with a grinning Kirishima. "On other note, it's too much of a burden for Momo. I'm sure your new 'friend' will help you."

"Huh?" Y/N looked back at the blond and cleared her throat, "I called you because it looks like you're doing good on your side."

"Excuse me?" Kyoka blushed said, "It's not what it looks like. We're just-"

"No, it's just that you seem less self-conscious around him," Y/N smiled, "I'm glad." Kyoka gasped hearing her, ears reddening. She fumbled and stuttered, unable to form words. "What? You didn't realize that?" Y/N asked, "I know you're gonna stick up my ass if I go with you, and avoid Kaminari as a result. So I'm just gonna try my luck with...him." They both sat zoned out.

Y/N sighed and chuckled, "Wow, can't believe that we are talking about making moves on our crushes." Both stared at each other and started laughing. They usually don't like to talk about their crush because it was embarassing but were very much aware of how things were going. But, slowly they were taking steps forward and they were finally gonna have sleepovers. They didn't exactly have much time to talk about feelings with all the training and exams coming up. Besides, they were kind of emotionally constipated.

"Okay well good luck," Kyoka said and went back to discuss with Momo about their group study.

Meanwhile Y/N sat there contemplating whether to text him or just go ask him for help. She did avoid Momo for Kyoka, sure, but she definitely needed help and someone has to help her get these in her head. She didn't exactly have any other choice left.

Walking towards the two bestfriends, Y/N tapped on Bakugou's shoulder. He turned and asked with his usual crap attitude, "You want something?"

"Uh yeah, I was thinking if you could help me with studies. I...don't exactly understand it. I don't remember things that I study without understanding it's meaning."

For some reason Bakugou felt a sense of pride and like the kind of guy he is, he immediately responded with a grin on his face, "Why aren't you asking help from Momo? She's-"

"Not close to me as much as you are," Y/N said. Both Bakugou and Kirishima looked taken aback with her statement. She didn't want them to overthink about her choice of words and continued saying, "Besides, she's already got her hands full. On the top of that, I don't even know how she'll handle Kaminari and Mina. Um...less people, less interruptions."

"Shut up already grandma!" Bakugou shouted and then muttered the rest of the words, "Yeah whatever."

Kirishima who was watching both of them talk, knew that Bakugou probably shouted to hide his embarrassment, but he wanted to tease him a bit more. "Sounds like I should study with Momo and leave you two alone," he said.

"You think I don't know enough? Maybe I should beat the lessons in your head!"

"Shut up and join us," she said whispering to Kirishima, "look you have to be there or else we might just kill each other off while fighting."

"I know you won't," Kirishima whispered back to her, with a suspicious smile on his face. Y/N decided to turn a blind eye to that. Maybe Kiri knew something about her feelings for his bestfriend, but she wasn't going to take the risk of letting it out by being all nervous in front of him.

Everyday for the whole week, the three met up in a cafe and had a group study. Bakugou was actually a pretty good teacher - well, apart from the fact that he got pissed off easily. But, he still had to patience to teach them inspite of messing up multiple times. Halfway, Y/N thought he would just get fed up and tell her to go home. But Bakugou gave her a pretty good scolding saying, "No fucking way are you gonna go home before finishing this! You think I can't teach! I swear I'll get this into your fucking brain today!"

Today was the last day, and Bakugou took an exam. Both of them did pretty good, and they revised whatever they had difficulties in. Kirishima was usually the talkative one, initiating conversation between them because when left alone, he observed them to be weirdly quiet. Like something was going on in both of their minds. After they finished their drinks, Bakugou went to the counter to order more food. Kirishima wasn't so bad at reading people and he knew something was making her uncomfortable.

"Do you think you can be in the top 10 now?" Kirishima asked.

"Kind of. I mean Bakugou did make the chapters clear to me," Y/N answered, "I expect more marks than that creep."

"Who? Mineta?"

"Yeah."

"You really hate him huh...more than Bakugou."

"Why would I hate Bakugou?"

"You don't?" Kirishima looked at her with a surprised face.

"No. He is annoying though. I mean have you seen that temper? I thought he would kick me out."

"Yeah I don't know if you noticed," Kirishima smirked, "but he never hit you as hard as he hit me whenever I did something wrong"

"Yeah cause your quirk is literally hardening," Y/N with an amused smile on her face, "stop twisting it."

"You know that's not only it. I mean, I might be dumb but I have eyes dude."

"Well you need glasses then."

"You haven't seen yourself during classes. You are so obvious bro."

"Well, what were you staring at me for baby? Don't play this game with me Kiri, you won't win." Y/N said grinning.

"He literally just flicked you. He smacks other people."

"You think flicks don't hurt?! Let me flick you then you stupid shit-" Y/N said leaning forward, ready to flick his forehead.

"STOP ACTING LIKE CHILDREN!!" Bakugou shouted, making both of them sit straight while the people in the cafe stared at them.

"Kirishima really knows how to make someone feel less tensed," Y/N said walking towards the subway with Bakugou.

"Why the heck were you tensed?"

"Well..we didn't exactly talk about our little fight."

"What fight?"

Y/N chuckled and said, "Oh my god you forgot about it already?! I'm talking about Mineta."

"He's not worth my time."

"I know, but I was just-"

"Why do you even hate him so much? There must be a fucking reason."

"Because I don't think someone who sees women as sexual objects and always has an ulterior motive behind helping them should be a fucking hero. Like Asui told me that he even grabbed her in the middle of villain attack in USJ. If it was me, I would never let a hero like that touch me." Y/N ranted and sighed, "Look you don't have to agree with me, but just don't judge me for this. I know what I'm talking about."

Bakugou scoffed and said, "For someone who fucking judges people on every step, you shouldn't talk about being judged."

"Gosh, I fucking know that! I don't judge everyone though! And if I hurt someone, I apologize to them!" Y/N shouted and then muttered, "Unlike someone else." She looked at the bus stop to her left, where Bakugou was supposed to wait. She felt a bit disappointed that this wasn't even supposed to be a matter of discussion but she was still feeling bad about it. He was right though. She just didn't know that whether it was even a bad thing - to judge someone like that little creep. And his words made sense. She needs to stop being pissed about Mineta being a hero, even if he tries to take advatage of all the ladies in the course. He wasn't, shouldn't and will never be worth her time anyway.

"Alright bye," she said and was about to cross the road when he called her out.

"H-hold on," Bakugou shouted and Y/N looked back at him, "Stop thinking about things that don't matter. Just concentrate on being a fucking hero first."

"Do you mean...you're sorry about it?"

"When did I fucking say that?!" Bakugou said, his ears turning red in embarrassment.

"I saw you speak the same way to Kaminari and Mina about controlling their quirks. It's because you were concerned right?"

"Shut up," Bakugou rubbed the back of his head and looked at her face. She was finally smiling and wasn't all worried and shit. Her forehead was still a bit red with all the flicks that she had to endure. Unknowingly, he moved her hands and rubbed her forehead, as if massaging the red spot and said, "You just looked like a puppy who got kicked off."

Hearing a gasp, he quickly moved his hand back and walked off to the bus stand. Y/N turned and waited for the traffic signal to go red so she can finally cross the road. She didn't want Bakugou to see her face right now. Oh she was blushing, and this time with a stupid smile on her face. She wanted to maintain her composure and stop smiling, but she just couldn't.

The signal turned red.

"I better see you in Top 10 grandma!" she heard the blond shout.

"You fucking will!" she said, before crossing the road. Her face was as red as the traffic signal.

Chapter 29

SEASON - II

Ignite

MASTERLIST

Tags: @honeylemondragonemperor​ @mikithekiki​

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha katsuki #bnha #bnha uraraka #bnha kaminari #bnha eijiro kirishima #shouto todoroki #my hero academia #izuku mydoria #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #mha kirishima #mha headcanons #mha fanfiction #mha tenya

[natsumiheart]

I just wanna say how tired I am with some oumota shippers and their argument that oumasai is a bad ship cause apparently Shuichi never cared about kokichi and is annoyed with him and that oumota is better cause kokichi "opened up" to kaito like what they both were dying and kokichi had to convince kaito to work with him so he had to tell the truth that he wasn't the mastermind or else they'll die a meaningless death.I just really wanted to say this cause its driving me insane

Anonymous said:

Btw i was the anon that sent that ask ranting about oumota shippers saying oumota is better than oumasai and I just wanna clarify that I don't hate oumota shippers cause I know its their opinion and everyone can ship what they want but i feel like I really needed to tell someone about it cause it has been messing with my head and I don't have any irl friends that like DR and this blog felt the safest to vent to

Oh my goodness I’m so sorry you’re dealing with those people! I have a friend who is actually suffering from the same exact thing. Constant harassment from Ou**ta shippers saying Oumasai is toxic. I’m happy you feel like this is the safest blog to vent to ;; And just to make you feel better, here are a bunch of reasons why YOU’RE 100% RIGHT! and you shouldn’t be attacked or ashamed of how you feel towards that ship and all that hate towards yours. If anyone says Shuichi hated Kokichi and never cared for him just read this post! https://natsumiheart.tumblr.com/post/177427505177/hewwo-what-are-your-opinions-on-the-people-who

Warning: If you like Kaito x Kokichi I recommend you don’t read what’s under the cut, I don’t want to diss anyone’s ship in front of their face. That’s just insensitive, and the last thing I want is to ruin someone’s day. Unless you really want to know why others don’t feel the same as you, then don’t check out this post. Thank you!

Note that while I mention the bunch of reasons why this ship just straight up wouldn’t work out, I’m going to ignore the fact that Kaito acts very homophobic and transphobic in the japanese version of the game. I’ve mentioned it in this blog a bunch of times before, and it’s pretty obvious that everyone ignores his Homophobia so I’m just going to pretend as if he’s not homophobic and break down why exactly this ship wouldn’t work out even without him being homophobic in the first place. But I’m definitely not going to exclude how he acts towards guys in general.

> Kaito treats most guys he meets like trash, unless he respects them. Whenever Kaito finds a guy acting “Weak” he literally looks down on them, even gets frustrated with them. Huge proof is how he treated Shuichi for crying over Kaede, and then later punching Kokichi because he was acting “Weird”. Kaito was a huge fan of Ryoma, but when he saw what he has become, someone who has given up on his future, he started treating him badly, and after Ryoma was dead he even talked badly on him calling him “Weak.” and a “Sissy.” Not being able to understand the pain Ryoma was going through or how things were for him. He also got creeped out by Korekiyo for acting like a girl before he even revealed that he was “posessed” by his sister. Aren’t all those moments in the game enough proof that Kaito just straight up doesn’t like guys at all in that way? Then how could he *love* a guy, and Kokichi of all people. Heck, Gonta x Kaito make more sense than Kaito x Kokichi, even though he yelled at Gonta once for crying and being too weak for a man.

It’s shown multiple times in the game that Kaito treats guys like trash, and he treats Kokichi the worst of all.

Note: I do think Kaito can change the way he acts towards guys, but I don’t he will ever love one romantically.

> I think we can all agree that Kokichi is really hard to deal with sometimes. He distances himself so much from everyone as much as he could, and he won’t back down that easily even if it meant hurting others’ feelings. He keeps lying constantly so no one can figure him out or get close to him. We don’t exactly know the reason why, but he has major trust issues and it shows.That is the reason why for us, seeing Shuichi listed under “Trustworthy” was a big deal. (But I’m not going to dive deep into that since I already did multiple times in this blog.) My point here is that Kokichi needs someone with patience, someone who could understand him a bit and why he does what he does. Someone to decipher his actions and break down his walls, but isn’t afraid to sometimes step his foot down and tell him that his actions are wrong and he’s harming others as well as himself. Kaito on the other hand grows frustrated with guys so quickly, he doesn’t listen to their reasoning before heading in for physical violence. THAT is exactly the opposite of what Kokichi needs! And I still don’t understand how others can’t see it! When Kaito punched Kokichi in chapter 4, he was already in so much despair over seeing the secret of the outside world and that punch made it worse. To the point he stayed silent then locked himself in his room. How in the world do people actually see this ship as better than oumasai? I don’t get it.

Kokichi shouldn’t be with someone that will treat him like trash, and physically (if not also emotionally) harm him for how he’s acting.

> Opposites sometimes attract, but POLAR opposites do not. and I’m talking from personal experience here, two people who are different in so many ways (ESPECIALLY THEIR WAY OF THINKING) will end up fighting 24/7. It was shown again and again in the game that Kokichi and Kaito do not get along thanks to how different their approach is to things and their seemingly different upbringings. Ships between two characters who fight a lot just make me so uncomfortable and disturbed, because I know how these relationships actually end up in real life. Fights do happen in relationships sometimes, it’s even needed to strengthen the relationship, to realise that no matter what happens you STILL love your partner, but when you fight every single time you talk? That’s a bad sign! 

Fighting is NOT romantic and it never will be! And when it has physical violence mixed in? My god. Please do yourself a favor and break up with your partner if they keep hitting you.

> Kaito doesn’t ever side with Kokichi:

He literally said in chapter 4 “I don’t wanna survive it means I have to stoop to your level!” and Kokichi said “Then die in a hole for all I care! WE wanna LIVE, so stop getting in our way!”. Kaito will never be on Kokichi’s side, Even if it meant his death and the deaths of all his friends.

When Kaito realised that maybe watching all the motive videos together would’ve prevented a murder from happening Shuichi is the one that points out that it was what Kokichi was trying to do. But then Kaito is like “Huh, really?” Then brushes it off. Because of course, of course Kokichi wants murders to continue. Right?

Even after Kokichi spilled everything to him because he was literally about to die and really wanted Kaito to go along with his plan and believe him. Kaito still stated that he still thought he only thought of himself. Even after Kokichi sacrificed himself to save HIM from the poison and MAKI from being his murderer. He still hated him and didn’t believe him. The only reason Kaito went along with his plan was because he was about to die anyway, he was running out of time and he needed to get out even if it meant following Kokichi’s plan and killing him in the process.

When two people actually love each other they have each others backs. But with these two, they never will.

> I don’t believe Kokichi hated Kaito. But he literally thinks he is stupid and is a bad influence on everyone. These two have a relationship of two siblings that can’t stand each other. I always see myself and my brother in them, which is another reason why their ship makes me beyond uncomfortable. My brother puts his trust in people way too easily, and believes whatever tf his brain comes up with because y’know it’s him and “he’s always right”. He would never take a second to think that maybe he’s wrong, just like Kaito and his hunch. I on the other hand find him incredibly stupid, we argue a lot because our way of thinking and our beliefs are very different, we even used to hit each other a lot. We never really got along. And the way Kokichi and Kaito act around each other really reminded me of it, but you don’t know me and you don’t know my brother so why should you take my word for it? An example I like to use when trying to explain this point to others is the relationship between Stanley and Stanford in Gravity Falls, those two fought a lot in the show but in the last episode they had to work together on a plan despite their differences. Doesn’t it remind you of a certain story that happened in the game? Kokichi and Kaito’s relationship resembles theirs so much it’s insane. 

I feel like the game tried to show us how these two are more like siblings but on bad terms, even giving them similar hair and eye colors. But that flew straight over every rivalry shipper’s head.

These are some of the reasons why Ou**ta wouldn’t work out and can’t even be a thing in the first place, I said it before and I’ll say it again: I could write a book about this topic. But I’m kinda busy today and I have to leave the house soon- I hope you’re convinced that you are actually right. (I’ve been told countless times that I’m wrong leading me to question myself, so I wanted to help out by reassuring you that your feelings are valid and you’re not wrong in this situation at all) Saying Oumasai is toxic for one line Shuichi said while he was angry and defending his friend, while shipping Ou**ta and ignoring all this stuff is like the most hypocritical thing anyone can say. 

And yeah, people should ship whatever they want. Lots of people ignore characters’ feelings and ship the crackiest of ships, making very OOC art and fanfiction. And they can do that! But they can’t go around dissing people for their ship while supporting an obviously flawed one. Honestly you shouldn’t attack people for their ships in the first place, no matter what YOU ship. Just stay in your own bubble and stay away from the ships you dislike. It’s not that hard!

If you’re an Ou**ta fan reading this, I just want to say thank you for reading this far, and I’m really not saying you should stop supporting your ship. I’m just explaining why we feel this way towards it and the evidence we have behind it. If you’re one of the people who go around attacking shippers while boasting your ship. Please stop? Seriously, stop giving a shit about other people’s opinions and life will suddenly become much easier.

I’d like to clarify: If anyone responds to this post telling me I’m wrong, I’m not responding. My blog is for me to post art, sometimes funny stuff to make people’s days, interact with my followers and draw their requests, or ranting about topics I’m passionate about (Mostly DR). I do not want it to be a place for ship discourse, so if I get disagreeing replies or asks I’m going to ignore them like I always do whenever I post these rant type blogs. I hope you understand.

#asks #rant #danganronpa #drv3 #New Danganronpa V3 #ndrv3 #cn you tell that i really dislike this ship PFPF #i really love the two characters and want them to be friends by fixing their relationship i just reaaally dislike them as a couple #an i hate ut so much when people ignore EVERYTHING that happened in the game between them #ad then say our ship is toxic??? wheres the logic did you drop it somehwere 😂 #i wanna tag this as anti ou**ta but im scared it will show up in that ship's tags so im not gonna #there are no cases of the virus in my village btw so dun worry about me leaving the house im safe here i promise 😂 #im sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or grammar errors btw i wrote this in a hurry PFPF

[luxurystark-jackson]

So, I was watching some YouTube videos on Peter Parker, and I noticed a comment:

This got me thinking (and yes, Tuffnut is the best), what if there was a crossover like that?

(The absolute adorkableness of these two combined omg)

Now, a few days later (aka today) I was watching a HTTYD video and noting the similarities between Hiccup and Peter, and I realised that I’d already made a comparison before. Percy Jackson and Hiccup.

(This is really cool I found it on Instagram :D)

And then I thought ‘what if there was a crossover in some way between these guys?’

I mean, if you think about it, Percy and Hiccup have a similar sort of shade of eye colour (in a way) and Hiccup and Peter (we’re focusing on Tom Holland’s version here if you didn’t realise) have a similar sort of hairstyle and hair colour (again, in a way).

So, I started thinking ‘what if they’re brothers?’

Now, at this point, you probably think I’m crazy, but hear me out. Peter Parker and Hiccup aren’t actually kids of their respective fathers (this is going into fanfic storyline mode but keep reading). They’re both sons of Poseidon. To be clearer, they’re the other two of the Jackson Triplets (really getting into fanfic mode here :D). And if you’re wondering, ‘then why don’t they have the powers of Poseidon like Percy?’, well, I have a theory for that too :D

Let’s start off with Hiccup. My theory is that he’s a time traveller, sent back to the Viking times when he was a baby because it wasn’t safe for him to be in his time period. Say if Hiccup and Peter were born about 10 minutes after Percy, then it would be so that since there was the prophecy and stuff, only one of the trio could be utilised by Kronos if that time came. So if Percy was born first, that would ultimately make him 16 first, and therefore the first possible dangerous prophecy child. Since we know that in the end he is the prophecy child, this kinda makes sense.

Because of the time travel stuff, Hiccup loses the ability to use the powers he inherits as a son of Poseidon, and he isn’t able to use them at all, and would live out his life as a normal Viking would. This sort of explains why we have the sudden growth spurt between HTTYD 1 and HTTYD 2. Yes, I know there’s a five year gap, but no normal human being grows an entire foot in the course of five years. Speaking of the growth spurt, if you search into Google for Hiccup’s height, you’ll find out that in the first movie, he’s approximately 5’1, and in the second movie, he ends up at 6’1. That a ridiculously huge growth spurt, and none of the other characters have such a sudden growth spurt (they all grow a few inches I guess, that’s pretty much it). The only plausible explanation is some sort of special power, or perhaps god genes? As we know from Percy Jackson and the Greek Gods, Apollo and Artemis grow to average adult age in DAYS, and if their kids (not that Artemis has kids) have their genes, then it would make sense for such a growth in such a short time.

Now to explain Peter Parker. You see, in the movies, they never mention how often Aunt May and Uncle Ben saw Peter before his parents passed. Most people assume that they saw each other on a day to day basis (I think), but that doesn’t nessecarily have to be the case, as we’ve seen with other people in the past (*cough* dursleys *cough cough*) and in general, it’s not that often that people visit nieces and nephews or vice versa. Sure, they probably knew he existed, but we don’t know when they found out he existed. At this point, you must be questioning ‘But if they adopted him why wouldn’t they tell them?’

See, this is where truth and lies come in. Peter’s supposed parents could’ve easily lied to Ben and May. Or even better, we know that there is magic in the PJO universe. Gods can easily use the Mist or modify their memories to make it seem like Peter was their son, hiding the weird stuff that he does like his brother, Percy, does. I have a slightly darker theory if we were to go to the lying to Ben and May option.

Say if Peter’s supposed mum (I’m British sorry) was actually pregnant. In the last few weeks, she goes into labour way too early and a miscarriage happens. Of course, the parents are depressed. Losing a child isn’t easy, especially your first child. They find out from the doctors that a baby that sorta has their features was left at the hospital last night, and he seems to be a little premature, and that maybe they could adopt the little guy. They don’t want Ben and May to know, so they lie and say that he’s just a bit premature and that he’s their son (like I said, dark).

Then the whole car crash incident happens and Peter is left with his supposed Aunt and Uncle, who he’s kinda close to. They’re the only family he has left as well, and they happily take him in. Peter doesn’t understand the weird stuff that happens to him, and nobody understands when he tells them about it. 14 year old Peter Parker lives this confused life, not knowing that one of his triplet brothers only lives a few towns away from him (idk if this is right. Like I said, I’m British, and I have no clue how far Manhattan is from Queens). Then one day, he gets bitten by a radioactive spider. Suddenly, he can’t seem to talk to sea animals anymore, he doesn’t have strange water powers. Instead, he can climb walls, has increased strength and he can shoot webs. He’s now a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

You might be wondering, ‘if that’s the case, why don’t they ever mention this Spider-Man in the PJO books?’

Well, (here we go again) I have an explanation. Percy just is never there when the headlines are blaring about Spider-Man. He’s at camp and going through multiple schools. He’s too busy to notice stuff about a guy who can shoot webs and climb walls. And his best friend (soon to be girlfriend 😏) hates spiders (the whole Athena and Arachne stuff). She won’t be wanting to know about a guy who has the powers of a spider. And the camp won’t mention that sort of stuff because A) they probably don’t have access to daily news channels from Queens, and B) this is a camp where the Athena cabin are a valued part of the camp. They (sorta) have some respect, and probably don’t have the guts to mention someone that meant to have spider powers where any Athena child could hear them. And at this camp, word travels fast (*cough* Minotaur *cough cough*).

Gosh, I’ve been ranting for a while. Anyways, there’s my (fan) theory on how Peter Parker, Hiccup Haddock and Percy Jackson are related, feel free to add on as you wish, and thank you for coming to my Ted Talk :D. Bye!

#how to train your dragon #peter parker #spiderman #percy jackson #time travel #hiccup haddock #crossover #brothers #triplets