#PLEASE GO AND WATCH TRANSFORMERS ONE GUYS!!
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shadowfreak98 · 4 months ago
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thekittyokat · 9 months ago
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you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah
#sorry i got really into my feelings about mark hoffman again#the very specific version of him in my brain that i really really wish i had the time and energy to properly share with you guys#saw#well until i muster the energy to explode all of my feelings out into a fic. if you want to TRY and understand#know that my three biggest hoffman fic insps right now are as follows#your best kept secret hoffman. a series of mistakes hoffman. and rushed like a dreadful wind hoffman.#there is a very clear throughline just know i am extremely emotionally compromised rn#thinking about theee fics vs the canon path hoffman spirals down#something something the absolute tragedy of watching a man's descent into madness#the transformation of a man into a monster#and what could have saved him from himself and kramer's corruption#sorry i'm rambling so much oh my god i was just having such a crying fit out of nowhere about this#do you think he could feel it happening. do you think he was aware he was losing his mind.#the script version of him fucks with me so bad. the crazed rankings and the longer hair and him not being well kept anymore#it's impossible to think he didn't know he was deteriorating#fuuuck okay i need to either chill or write a whole longfic rn#i project on that guy so much i truly don't know if i could properly write my vision of him#until i do something more substantial the full extent of my hoffman exists for me and my boyfriend only. they get me like no one else#well ginny and jenna also get me. please read best kept secret and a series of mistakes Oh My God#where am i going with this. i like tag rambling actually this is a nice way to do it without forcing EVERYONE to read my delirium#anyways if you've read all of this i think i love you? feel free to dm me about hoffman and my very specific headcanons and aus#maybe soon i'll try and start writing my fics about this tragic man#i could never say any of this on twitter btw they'd string me up for my opinions on him as a sad wet beast who could have been fixed#if only he hadn't been weaponized first#god i'm too tired to even be as embarrassed about this as i should be. thought i unlearned cringe already#but i've been spending way too much time on twitter and they HAAATE hoffman there#rip. i know it's not that serious but i'm sensitive rn and hate feeling lonely in my thoughts#ok bye for real otherwise i'll never shut up. i might tag ramble more often bc this was therapeutic in a way i needed badly#cat chat
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stardust948 · 3 months ago
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Transformers One is the perfect way to celebrate 40 years of Transformers.
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shannonsketches · 8 months ago
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One of my favorite differences in the DBZ manga that makes Vegebul make More Sense To Me, is that because Vegeta never left Earth, he was living at Capsule Corp for over two years before Bulma got pregnant (assuming Trunks is like 3-6mos old when we see him as a baby), but she said she 'wouldn't live with that jerk' afterward, which implies (to me) that he'd been a chill enough housemate up until the pregnancy, which tracks with his generally private and professional behavior as a Lord in the Freeza Force (in the manga).
I like to think it became a compounding factor in learning that he was slated to be killed in a year, and led to him being uncharacteristically overzealous and performative (and so opposed to Trunks getting close to him) in the android saga as opposed to how strategic and cautious he was with serious threats in the Freeza saga.
I am also always thinking about how Something Happened between him losing to Cell and re-entering the time chamber in the manga, because he was back living at Capsule Corp and staying near Trunks and Bulma when the Cell Games were announced.
#Something was definitely Bulma not getting laid for over a year and Vegeta not getting laid for over 2 because of time chamber shenanigans#You can just taste the Good Shit in the conversation from that first night back 🤌 Anyway#Every day I think about how Freeza assumed Vegeta was always going to be his biggest threat -- not just for his power but for his cunning#Every day I think about how that can still be true and how after the Freeza arc Toei traded that cunning for boisterous arrogance#even though that was literally only happening in the android saga and not NEARLY as much as they wrote it#Vegeta being Quiet and Smart is ALSO a reason Vegebul makes a lot more sense if you've read the manga#He's probably the only one in that group who never needs her to translate science talk and the bar is low but boy can he can hop over it#Thinking about how he sat there and explained the science of the Great Ape transformation to Goku and WHY he could create a false moon#Thinking about how Vegeta knows what to do how to do it AND can explain to someone WHY it works#and knowing Bulma would hear a bad boy fighter talk Science and throw her underwear at him at terminal velocity#Every day I think about how Vegeta is constantly flirting with the trickster trope but you'd never know that from watching the anime#He's so sMART and Goku's so DUMB that's why they're great FOILS TOEI#Like Goku's not Stupid but he IS dumb he is a dumb puppy and we love him#I see a lot of Geets fans say they miss how he was in the Freeza arc but he's like that A LOT in Super (just on the good guy team)#His breakdown is over he knows who he is again he's confident he's whole he's fucking Out Here in Super PLEASE read the manga
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newwave-lesbian · 10 months ago
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they can give you swag OR they can give you class.....
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skrunksthatwunk · 2 months ago
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im exploding into a million pieces i found a reddit thread about butches in video games (specifically looking for them) in hopes that there was some kind of lesser known dream daddy-esque butch dating sim or SOMETHING cute like that and guys the fucking crumbs we have to live on you're actually killing me. im withering away why are there no kissable butches in video games im going to throw up and kill everyone. nobody wants a butch dating sim apparently. im gonna go weep in the fetal position
#everybody ignore this it's so stupid but#it's like heres a stard.ew valley mod where you can make leah butch and um idk starf.ield bg characters#and a baldgate3 character. IM CRYING WHERE ARE THE BUTCHES#'why is this making me emotional' (<- very understandable why it would make me emotional)#howling into the night sky ripping ny shirt in twain transforming into a big hairy beast bc i love butches sm#GUHHHHHHHHHH CMONNNNN#i just wanna see people's cute drawings of dykes ok. where is our version of bara#where is it please#im begginbg the universe generally#i need a hero (the song) is emanating from my pores rn. where are they we deserve so much better than this#gahhhh it's all overly palatable softgirl yuri fuckk. where are my big sweaty hairy braless deep voiced dykes im going to kill someone#when is it my turn to be happy wuagghhh#not to say i dislike softgirl yuri but i do not want to kiss them!! sorry but that is a big motivator for this#is wanting a 2d boyfriend (/dyke) because everyone else gets to have one :((#and also like. wanting to see dykes reflective of irl dykes rather than yuri for representation purposes that matter to me personally#and the gender euphoria that can often come from that but also FUCKK#nguhhhhhh oughhhhhh ahhhhhhhhgh. im such a fucking faggot im sick of this#a large chunk of the sapphic population is just completely not represented it's like they only exist in my mind#i never seen them around me either this shit sucks fuck my stupid baka life. wehehhh#exploding into a million pieces#im never expressing any kind of gay yearning again after this im done#is it too much to ask that i see people like me out there?? in many ways but tonight specifically in a butch way#ppl when they even think for a moment of making lesbian media where the dykes aren't sifted through straight attractiveness filters: 😱#again a lesbian dating dim w femmes would rule as well but it's all high schoolers and vaguely anime-hot women#and thats not good enough. it's like if they give a girl a big nose they'll fucking die immediately#maybe the real reason i consume so much homoerotic buff guy media is because SOMETIMES ppl draw them as butches#(<- not the reason but maybe loosely vaguely part of the reason)#anyway this was inspired by me watching ppl react to like. a popular pretty boy dating sim#and trying to figure out some equivalent experience for me but i can't bc none of it is made for me#killing everyone and then killing them again. hatred
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hauntingblue · 11 months ago
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I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs
#momo must be so emotionally confused omg poor child. this guy says he is my father and treats me like his son and also this samurai who has#been acting like my father just died. and now i turned 28 and a dragon and i need to save this island or my shougnate will die. jesus#FUCKING ROB RUCCI!!! I SURE HOPE NOT ONE STRAY ATTACK REACHES THE ROOM FULL OF CP0 AGENTS!!!#now the government is going to invade wano AND TAKE ROBIN!!!!! ROB LUCCI DIEEEE!!!!! AND YOU WILL FAIL AGAIN!!!#now how tf did the heart pirates get there... who can fly on there or did they just tag along on momos tail#the dinosaur head snake???? hello?? qjdhakshsk and it worked.... sanji... 'thats what a brachiosaurus is!' well i do not think so....#wtf sanji.... so much of that wiggly dance he does with the heart eyes has brought him here...#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1053#poor killer man.... why doesnt he cut off the arm kid doesnt have... that should do it right???#jesus.... goodbye kid and law.... hawkins just hitting his head to a wall.... CUT OFF HIS ARM!!! oh no..... another self sacrificing mate..#YEAAHHH THE ARM!!!!! is he gonna take it and give it to kid akdjsksj OH HE TOOK THE STRAW DOLL!!! killer your brain is so huge..#the death card looking JUST like killer.... that was such a slay... they had this one thought out for a while.....#THE MUSIC!!! GOODBYE HAWKINS!!! KILLER OUTSERVED!!!! whats with the cutting of arms this arc.... kid now its your turn to slay (big mom)#episode 1054#sanji having an existential crisis and queen just: WELCOME TO THIS MOMSTER WORLD#having issues with his body transforming doesnt help with the transfem allegations#APOO IS STILL ALIVE???? CUT OFF HIS HEAD!!!!#i was gonna say KINEMON!!! BUT I KNOW ITS THAT FUCKING KANJURO!!!!!! nami drawing the moon on his asscheek akdjsksj#KIKU AND KINEMON ARE ALIVE??? I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS THIS IS A TRAP!!! DON'T GIVE ME HOPE!!!#NOOOOOO THE CP0 IS IN ACTION TOO NOOOOOOOOO#they are breathing.... omg.... kiku..... ORICHI DIEEEE!!!!! i knew this couldn't end like this for her... i have been completely bamboozled#kinemon appearing like the first time... just legs.... amazing#how does big mom ikoku inside the castle are we insane... yamato can you like bite off kanjuros head off or smth... finish him off PLEASE#why do they have steel beams in kaido's castle. everything else is wood and stone. who designed this.#bepo being in law's mid episode animation akdjaksns.... thats really his beffo (bff) bepo#big mom being crushed by some beams doesn't sound right... kid should turn into magneto and start bloodbending... or repel her into the sea#episode 1055#episode 1056
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crossbackpoke-check · 4 months ago
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re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on
https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share
(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.
(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)
anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂
- @bondedpairs
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ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!
#like. i don’t know how to explain how narratively aware will smith is to me. he knows he’s being put into the codependent rookies arc.#he’s aware that zeev buium transforms into a dog. he knows that he and mack aren’t getting together because mack’s gotta work it out first.#& in a less unhinged way i simply mean that will smith has an air of both self-conscious thought & projection i think is maybe fascinating.#but not in a way in which i actually know this or think that he thinks about himself and how he comes across. he just Is Something ????#the best way i can explain is one of my alltime favorite fics i use it like a shorthand citation bc i love it so much but catchascatchcan’s#many worlds universe but specifically the second tk/pat story second person you the ouroboros spits out its tale nolan walks off screen.#like that is the kind of narrative awareness i am trying to explain that no matter where i put him will smith knows he’s inside a story but#not in a way where he’s trying to do anything to it. he’s just present there. this makes no sense to me either please understand#liv in the replies#bondedpairs#happy to have brought you something in your times of woe!!! ​also hope things get a little less stressful for you!! <3#we’re 2gether p much 24/7” no go on i say in my nature documentary voice. watching them like bugs under a rock rn observing from a distance#this DID get me to actually watch the video. agreed with puckpocketed saying rich text and ur tags like. YES the daddy issues popped out.#just wants to make sure he’s having fun!! checking up!! mack the prime irritance in will’s life!! foisted off on one another w/ no choice#it’s like when your parents are friends so then you have to be friends with their kids in a way and then also like. you’re the only kids#close in age to each other but they’re NOT but it is definitely not like. i would choose you for any lifetime it is very will smith hockey#(once again) very aware he has to wait for mack to settle down. like now that i’m saying this i DO want clairvoyant will smith which is not#where it goes in the first half but just in the sense of like. those silly posts that are like ‘invested early in stock!’ & it’s a picture#of braden holtby & his beautiful bisexual wife brandi back when holts was a hipster who wore skinny scarves & now everyone thinks he’s sooo#like that but it’s will smith saying my god you are insufferable but you’ll be fantastic in five years. get in the fucking car.#(yes i am drawing extensively from the one picture where will has COMPLETELY tuned him out (there is a football reasoning reference here?#with the patriots? neonfretra drew this also but it was a tweet about the teams. there’s layers to this here ANYWAY) we’re building a life#i realize after the fact i addressed neither the dilf (gilf?) fucking here nor the content of the actual video & polycules to which i say:#brain scrampled egg. the burnsie/joe/patty/(pavs???) polycule just exists to me and the kids intersect the venn diagram but in a much#smaller portion than they intersect each other in both ways (will/mack joe/the guys)#also as for the content of the video. you’re gonna have to give me at LEAST (how long did it take me until i actually started posting tzjd?#i hate that this is my metric but it really was like. i see everyone yelling about them & i’m like ok. [please ignore the irrational hatred#i have for tz at the time it has to do with moritz seider and also whenever i see him on the ice something awakens in kill mode] and i DO#blame tzjd for my 800 drafts and it took me like. a good while before i finally went OH kay. i see it. okay i can get invested. horizon at#a 45 degree angle moon in the late waxing gibbous winds scented of orange & blowing S by SW from the vortex cycle etc etc ass conditions)
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cherryhrat · 2 years ago
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Im ashamed to say im back on my naruto shit
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Hes my son your honor, hes just a little guy
Id die for him
#naruto#help i cant believe im about the hyper fixate on naruto for the 4th time#watching the first show reminds me of everything wrong with boruto especially art and animation wise#god I fucking hate boruto#anyways naruto so silly i love him so much#thinking about team 7 found family....#thinking about if sakura was well written...#so much potential.. wasted :c#I hc that shes actually not a boy crazy idiot and simply has a crush like a normal person and that she ACTUALLY HAS MUSCLES BC YA KNOW#HER WHOLE FUCKING THING IS STRENGTH CHARACTER DESIGNERS WERE YOU HIGH????#and I hc that she was actually used well in fight scenes like the one against puppet guy and she didn't cry for naruto to solve everything#and that she didnt fuck with his feelings in that one episode when she 'confessed' to get him to go home#and that sasuke wasnt a lame piece of edgy shit and was a better written antagonist#and that naruto didnt have an absolutely unhealthy obsession with him#sorry but people who ship naruto and sasuke are gross#its already abusive and unhealthy as all get out and now you want to add r o m a n c e???#im sure narutos crush on sakura got weird too#oh yeah like when he transformed into sasuke to trick her into kissing him#naruto writers be normal about romance for once please#shikamaru and temari and naruto and hinata were pretty good#idk personally I ship naruto and gaara and naruto and shikamaru#oops im rambling in the tags what can I say I fucking love naruto and have a lot of opinions on it
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uzurakis · 9 months ago
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hi kiara! can you please make a continuation of “their act of intimacy” but with gojo, toji, and sukuna? i melted the first time i read them with the other characters 😭 hope you have a good day ahead of you ❤️
THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY?
featuring: gojo satoru. ryomen sukuna. toji fushiguro.
n. aaa thanku for liking the previous one! this is for you nonnie <3 didn’t really proofread cause i’m running late on sleep lol. PART ONE HERE :0
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GOJO SATORU. gojo finds it calming when you both take a shower together. however, his notion of "calming" may differ from the ordinary. instead of drowsing in warm water and doing all those private things such as soaping his back and shampooing his hair, you and him sometimes have other spontaneous ideas in mind.
as the warm water cascaded down, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness that's as comforting as it is exhilarating. satoru, with his irrepressible charm and mischievous grin, stood beside you, his presence filled the space with a playful energy.
"ah, feels like heaven," he sighed, whilst eyes gleaming with shenanigans. you chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. “don’t start a water fight again, satoru. let us enjoy a nice and relaxing—“
but before you could react, a splash of water hit you square in the face, causing you to sputter and laugh. “gotcha!" the man exclaimed, his laughter echoed through the tiled walls.
"it’s sooo on now!" you declared, retaliating with a splash of your own.
and just like that, the bathroom transformed into a battleground, with water flying in every direction as you both engaged in your playful antics. amidst the laughter and the splashing, there's an undeniable sense of joy that filled the room.
"careful, satoru," you warned, dodging his playful advances, "you're going to get soap in your eyes."
but he just grinned. "not before you get ‘em first, babe.”
and so, you guys continued your playful banter. soaked to the bone and grinning from ear to ear, gojo satoru defines his own calming moments with you.
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RYOMEN SUKUNA. your boyfriend is a big guy, or so he believes before you swoop in and baby him. does he resist? yes. but will he eventually agree? absolutely.
the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air as you stood in the kitchen. across the room, your boyfriend, sukuna, leaned against the counter, watching you with a bemused expression. you took a small portion with a spoon in hand, "say 'a' for me, sukuna.”
"hell nah.” his face was holding back the disgust. “you know, i can feed myself, right?"
"come on, baby, just one bite," you urged, eyes pleading. he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in to you. “no—tsk, fine.”
“just this once.”
as he reluctantly opened his mouth, you couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the sight of him being spoon-fed like a child. your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly swallowed the pasta, avoiding your gaze.
"see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you teased, unable to contain your amusement.
he grumbled something unintelligible in response, but as you proceeded to feed him, he took every piece and never turned it down until the last bite.
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TOJI FUSHIGURO. toji never declines your offer to groom him. he rarely takes attention to his appearance, whereas you insist on cleaning up him up and do it with your own hands. at first, he doesn't think of it as intimate thing because isn’t it just about cutting and shaving? but as time goes on, he understands how much you value him and treasures the time you spent solely on him.
the soft glow of evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue over the cozy living room. toji sat on the couch, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes. you watched him from afar with a fond smile tugging at your lips.
“toji,” you called out. “your hair has gotten longer than the last time i remember.” he chuckled softly, already accustomed to this routine. "is it that time again?"
with scissors and a comb in hand, you approached him with a smile. “c’mere, sit down, baby.”
letting a shrug plus a grin, the man complied, settling onto the stool you'd placed in the middle of the room. as you draped a towel around his shoulders, his eyes met yours in the mirror.
"you know, i understand why you enjoy doing this so much.” he admitted, leaning back as you began to comb through his hair.
"you know why?” you replied, your voice soft as you worked. "it's about taking care of each other, babe. showing love in the little things."
he fell silent at your words, mulling them over as you continued to trim away stray strands. gradually, the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment.
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@uzurakis — requests are open! <3
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yourstrqly · 11 months ago
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✰ POSITIONS, F1 DILFS
[ starring ] sebastian vettel, kimi räikkönen, fernando alonso, jenson button, lewis hamilton, kevinmagnussen
[ tw ] fem!reader, smut (+18), dom!drivers, mention of sex toys and tapes, dirty talking, fem and male oral receiving (+ choking on dick)
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. minors do not read .
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sebastian enjoys sitting back to watch you play with yourself, be it your dainty fingers buried deep inside your pussy and coated in your juices, or the dildo, the copy of his cock, he had gifted you months ago when he was away; the sight of the grip your greedy pussy has on the plastic phallus and your body writhing in the sheets, whorish moaning his name to pled for relief, thighten his trousers but rather than bouncing you, feeling your tight little satch, he leans forward, breath fawning onto your wet tights, resulting in goosebumps.
you'd cry out silently, legs shaking as you ram the toy faster into your warmth. "what did you say, liebe? (love) care to repeat?", the man would ask, his rough hands grabbing your thick tights. "want my big dick inside you? fuck you till you can't remember your name and see stars no more, huh?", he'd taunt you with a massive smirk on his pinkish lips. "that what you would like, don't you, my dirty girl?"
kimi prefers on being hands on, having you knee in front of him to suck him off. tears have already escaped your eye and stained your hallowed cheeks, while his right hand sits at the back of your head, hair kept in a ponytail to manage the speed and the desired depth. your glossy eyes holding contact with his lustfilled gaze and the choking sounds as well as the moans that send off vibrations around his dick, makes him pull your face against his pelvic bone to deep throat him. the tightness of your wet mouth let's his cock throb slightly, the taste of salty pre cum hits your tongue once again.
slowly, kimi would face fuck you, forcing your lips to touch his pelvic whenever he pulls your head towards him, forcing your jaw to go slack and take his long cock all the way as saliva runs out of the corners of your stretched mouth, trailing down your tits and eventually hitting the carpet. "you love being my good girl, eh? then choke on it."
nando loves to grab your plump ass whilst hugging you whenever it is in public or in the privacy of a room — if his action is made in the later situation, the innocence of his touch quickly turns into nibbling playfully on your ear and neck, leaving small marks to show his claim of you. his finger would dip inside your clothing to touch your already wet pussy, gently brushing past the outer lips to rub your clit, which will transform you into mush against his body. wanting to eat you out, nando would lay you down on the bed if there is one, probing pillows under your hips to get an easy access to your wetness. he's godsend, festing on your pussy as it would be his last time, resulting in leaving you a breathless moaning puddle of a mess. "please don't stop, papi."
jenson would be the guy who'd twirl, pull and nib on your stiff nibbles as you stroke his growing dick whilst watching a sex tape of yourselves to get in the right zone. in his opinion its one of the easiest ways to set the mood; watching a homemade video of him plowing inside you from behind against a hotel wall or having you cuffed on the bedframe, fucking your little hole hard as you cum over and over again — he'll feel your breath stock whenever his recorded self hits your g-spot or lands a spank on your brightly coloured ass, and the slick of your snatch drips on his leg, that's between yours, rubbing over your cunt.
"in another life, you'd be a pornstar, darling", jense would whisper in your ear as he moves above you, running the fat leaking head of his cock against your awaiting pussy.
lewis would have you in sixty-nine, tongue tracing the rim of your snatched hole as you kitten-lick off the precum of his massive dick and nibble softly on a bold vein, chasing a groan out of the fit male. as soon as you reach past the half, he'll push his cock upwards, causing you to choke on his dick — his less dominating hand keeps your head down as his other hand sinks two fingers at the same time inside you roughly, sending you over the edge, a process he continues over again till you tap his thight two times.
"fucked you good, huh?"
kevin likes nothing more than seeing you completely relaxed and giggling during a session of soft, romantic sex; it's his favourite way to return to a relaxed state of mind after a race and running behind his small children. he'll have you ride him though he'd control the pace while pressing your face against his neck to feel you sucking kisses against it. whenever kevin would push hard upwards inside you, he'd hear you purr like a catita or moan, rambling about how he should just throw you down and fuck you, but this will just result in his next pushes slower, teasing you to show you who's the "boss".
POLY/MULTI DRIVERS — SINGULAR DRIVERS
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wisecura · 2 months ago
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'Hate' Is A Strong Word
Izuku Midoriya x f!reader 5k
summary: for some reason, you've never liked Izuku Midoriya. call it bad vibes, a deep seated irritation, or just plain off-putting, you two just never connected. and even now as pro heroes you haven't uttered a single word to each other since high school. yet, you find yourself badly injured at his doorstep.
warnings: might be repetitive, gaslighting, manipulation, non-canon, dark fic, some blood, belittling, confinement, please don't read if you are sensitive to bad things happening to reader,
an: I haven't kept up with this fandom much but I still enjoy it. i've been busy with work and school. sadly, not fully proofread, but thank you for reading
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You never quite took to Izuku Midoriya, even from the start. 
There was something about him. A nagging feeling that buzzed in the back of your mind whenever he was near.
He was the kind of guy everyone liked—or at least, no one dared to openly dislike. Shy, awkward, but undeniably kind, Izuku was the sort who'd go out of his way to help a stranger. Always pushing for justice, always the hero in waiting, the kind of well-rounded individual you'd expect to be universally admired. 
And yet, something about him set off alarms in your gut from the very first day you met. It was your first year in high school, you'd arrived at UA high, thrilled to be accepted into the hero course.
This is when you saw him.
He'd been introducing himself to other classmates, nothing different from the norm. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when they caught yours. The way he shyly moved over to greet you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to interrogate question you on your quirk, and from your understanding he kept tabs on everyone. It could've been the way his eyes seemed to trail you when you evaded his conversation, feeling odd at the line of questioning. You had no idea why every instinct tell you to keep your distance.
You did attempt friendship in those early years, especially when you noticed how easily he drew people in. Once all was settled in, he seemed to be a magnet, attracting the class in with his friendliness. Maybe that initial encounter had been a fluke? You thought that just maybe you were being overly dramatic—after all, Izuku was the epitome of harmlessness, always eager to lend a hand. No one else seemed to have an issue with him, even with his more...odd habits.
But despite your efforts, you just couldn't shake it off. Those creepy vibes you got. So you chalked it up to not meshing well. But you always watched from a distance, and continued your years making friends and overall enjoying the coursework.
Years passed, and both of you rose through the ranks to become pro heroes. 
Izuku, now known universally as Deku, consistently ranked in the top five—a celebrity in the world of pro heroes. Meanwhile, you held a respectable nineteenth place, not one for popularity races, and never quite as concerned with fame as you were with making tangible changes in the world. Not that he wasn't doing his part-
Deku was a household name, his exploits and acts of heroism the stuff of daily newsfeeds. The latest articles highlighted not just his achievements but his physical transformation too—he was now a striking 6’1", his features having matured into what many would consider handsome, listing out other measurements you hadn’t bothered to read about.
Yet, reading about him, seeing his photos splashed across the media, always stirred an inexplicable twist in your stomach. You had no logical reason to feel this way, yet the discomfort was undeniable. You still didn't like the dude.
Your interactions had been minimal since high school, limited to brief exchanges during professional gatherings. You weren’t friends, not really. But he was always friends of a friend with you. It was always weird to hear about him, and you tried to never ask-to never listen in when your friends talked about him.
And, now, as you scrolled through your phone, one hand pressed against your bleeding side, the irony of the situation didn't escape you.
This part of town was supposed to be safe, but here you were. Far from home and in trouble, late at night.
You needed to find somewhere to go—someone to plug this shit up. Your manager had recently updated your contacts with a list of “reliable partners” for emergencies—pretty handy timing, considering the mess you were in now. All listed with safe houses should you need it—your managers words echoing in the back of your mind: 'you'd better not be seen by anyone from the public'.
You had been on a secret mission, something big, something not everyone could handle. But your quirk was a perfect fit—or so you thought until things went south.
The leader of the crime ring turned out to be a lot tougher than the brief said, and instead of nabbing him quietly, you got roughed up pretty bad.
Glancing at your phone, the recommended safe locations popped up. And just your luck—it had to be him.
You frowned at the screen—thumb brushing down the refresh button desperately, but no other options seemed to be loading. There had to be someone else, but why wasn’t the stupid app showing anything?
Of course. Of-fucking-course. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, right?
Better not to bleed out on the pavement. You were sure your manager would kill you if this wound up in the newspapers.
Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the pain, straightening up as best you could. You tried to walk confidently into the lobby of a ridiculously upscale apartment building. It was way fancier than necessary, making you feel all the more out of place.
You barely reached the counter when the man behind it did a double-take. “Miss—““—I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya, please,” you cut him off before he could delve into questions you had no energy to answer.
He looked surprised for a moment, then turned his back to you to make the call. You could hear his hushed tones, and an even softer voice through the other end of the intercom. You couldn't make out what they were saying—maybe it was the blood loss affecting your concentration.
“Top floor, Miss—““—Thanks.” You turn away quickly, unable to keep a slight wobble from your steps. You hadn’t meant to be rude. You just really needed to sit down. 
You were a vision of resilience and grace as you press the elevator button, smearing the elevator door button in your own blood. The ride up feels like a century, each ding reminding you of the ticking clock against your injuries. You had time to turn back. To not face whatever was beyond the elevator doors. Did he open his home as a safe location often? What were you thinking—this was Deku—of course he did—
As the doors finally open, you're met with the minimalist, yet luxurious hallway leading to the penthouse suite—his suite.
It's been years since you've last even spoke to Izuku Midoriya, and now, under these circumstances, you're about to see him again.
Funny how fate plays its cruel games, huh?
Stepping out, you hesitate for just a moment before your survival instincts push you forward. Your fist meets the door, the knock more feeble than you intended. It's only a matter of seconds before the door swings open, revealing Izuku Midoriya in person.
He's taller, broader, and his eyes—those damn eyes—haven't changed a bit. He's definitely lost that baby face, his features much more defined, almost handsome. The sight of him makes your heart race for reasons you can't even begin to pin down before that deep voice reaches your ears.
"Shit, you look like hell," wide eyed, he blurts out. "What happened?"
You try to muster a smile, but all you manage is a grimace. "Got into a bit of trouble. Mind if I come in? Kinda bleeding out here," you quip, half-joking, but entirely serious.
He doesn't hesitate, grabbing your arm, gently but firmly, as he helps you inside. "Of course, come in. What are friends for?" he says, though you both know the term 'friends' might be a stretch, you sure as hell weren't gonna comment on it now.
Oddly enough, he doesn't press you for more details, instead guiding you to the sofa. "Let me look at that wound," he says, already moving to fetch a first aid kit and a towel. You feel somewhat guilty at your thoughts as you watch him, his movements efficient and practiced. What if you bled out onto his couch? And now that'll be the first thing on his mind when he sees it? what're you even thinking?
How often has he done this? You mind briefly flashes back to a news report you'd seen recently, of him saving a group of people from a hostage situation turned deadly. And despite your reservations about him, you can't help but feel a reluctant admiration stirring within you. That and this. He really wasn't a bad dude. Maybe a bit awkward, but who wasn't?
You raise your shirt slightly, exposing the expanse of your stomach, an audible sigh from him before his hands find their way to clean the area, surprisingly gentle.
It's a strange intimacy, one you make damn sure to ignore. In other situations you may have blushed, leading with a 'buy me drinks first' joke but you really didn't want to add to the moment.
"Do I want to ask how the other guy looks?" Izuku teases lightly, a break from his jaw tensing, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—bitter but genuine.
"Yeah, I may have gotten the short end here," you reply, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there that wasn’t present in your school days, a maturity that seems to fit him well. It annoys you, seeing how much he's grown into himself, into the hero everyone expected him to be. Was it jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.
Sitting there, letting Izuku tend to your wounds, you can’t help but feel a twist in your stomach that’s not from the injury. It’s from the sheer absurdity of the situation—seeking help from someone you’ve always distrusted, yet here he is, proving to be the hero he always aimed to be. Not asking for anything in return, always helpful, always willing.
And, yes, that bugged the shit out of you. You were wrong.
"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" His eyes flick back over to you, stilling your breath. He lets out another sigh, unwrapping the bandage from his kit.
"The Gokudo Group, right?" You look away, refusing to meet his heavy gaze. He didn't seem entirely happy with the direction of the conversation—
"How do you know about that?" The question sounded silly the second it left your mouth. A top pro hero knowing about a mission so close to his residence? It'd be stranger if he hadn't heard about it. He lets out another soft chuckle, and you feel yourself blush at the way it seemed to lick up your spine.
"Let's call it a guess." As he finishes bandaging your wound, his touch lingers a moment on your side, reminding you of his closeness.
"You should rest," he suggests, his voice soft, almost nonchalant. He seems to see no issue with the idea. A man. A woman. Alone in a pent house sweet. "Stay here tonight. It's late, and you're not in any condition to go anywhere."
You want to protest, to assert your independence, but the room tilts slightly as you try to sit up straighter, his grip tightening on your waist as you let out a small painful whimper. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of you staying, and realistically, blood loss was indeed a bitch.
"I guess...I don't have much choice," the words tasting sour on your tongue. For a fleeting moment, Izuku's seems like he wants to say something, fighting with his inner voice, before settling on something else.
"...Of course, you're always welcome here," he assures you, his tone dripping with a sincerity that feels too thick, too heavy. He stands, pressing a button on the wall to adjust the blinds, casting the room into a dim glow. He stands illuminated in a warm glow by the lamp in the corner. Your heart continues its gymnastics, flipping in ways you can't fucking believe.
"Let me get you some water, maybe something for the pain." As he disappears into the kitchen, you try to relax against the plush cushions of his sofa, feeling much more guilty at the thoughts you'd had not even thirty minute prior. This wasn't how you imagined your evening would end, and his kindness seemed to eat away at you by the second.
Your gaze drifts around the neatly kept space, landing on small, personal touches that seem innocuously domestic. Photographs of smiling faces, trophies from his hero work, books on strategy and quirk development. It's all so…Midoriya.
When he returns, he hands you a glass of water and a pill, his smile reassuring. "This will help with the pain," he says, and you take the small tablet from him, your fingers brushing against his, the contact somewhat nerve-wracking.
"Thanks," you whisper, downing the medicine without a second thought. He watched you closely for a second, another thought on the tip of his tongue before he decides to just sit down next to you. Not close enough to warrant a side glance, but close enough that you can smell his smooth cologne, a soothing fragrance that lingers in the back of your throat. A smell that was distinct, unforgettable.
"You know," hesitating, "...I always...hoped we'd get a chance to catch up," his voice a soft murmur blending into the backdrop of the city's faint sounds filtering through the window. You would've sworn he hadn't said anything if it wasn't for your good hearing. "...I've followed your career, you know. You're doing amazing things."
His words sound like a compliment, but you can't help but think: just how closely has he been watching me? The tension in the room was so fucking awkward....
And the comment was innocent enough, so you push the feeling aside, chalking it up to paranoia. He's being nice. He's being nice.
You literally have no reason to doubt him.
Whatever. You can't shake that nag, you're fighting with yourself just to lean into the small comfort he provided, but that itch keeps coming back the more he talks. Just keep your distance, like always, and make your exit in the morning before he wakes up. Maybe send a fruit basket when you get back home as a parting 'thank you' gift.
"Yeah, well, we've both been busy, I guess," He watches you a moment, his expression unreadable before offering a gentle smile. You let out a small yawn, scooting further into the couch. Further away from his spreading legs, hoping to convey your sleepiness.
"Very busy," he agrees, as he stands to grab a blanket from a nearby closet. Thankful for the space, you breath a sigh of relief. You jump when he comes back, yet his voice is gentle, and his movements are tender, almost loving, as he drapes the blanket over you.
You notice his hands tremble slightly—a nervous energy you remember all too well from your high school days. He's nervous. And it sets you on edge even more, despite the fact that he couldn't be more welcoming to you in this moment—a pillar of comfort and support. The blanket he brought was so fuzzy and warm. Your favorite color too.
"Looks like we finally get that catch-up session, huh?" he chuckles easily. You half-expected him to retreat to his room once you were settled, but here he was, still the same Midoriya, despite looking so incredibly different. Never fully catching that hint. You manage a weary smile, feeling the weight of your eyelids, barely still able to converse.
"Yeah, it's been a while. Life as a pro hero doesn't exactly leave much free time for reunions," Izuku nods enthusiastically, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa until you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg just inches away. You subtly scoot away, maintaining a polite distance, his eyes wide, as he enthusiastically regals your most recent mission.
"That rescue mission form last week was just spectacular, the way you dove right in, you were just perfect, and those people you saved--" He stops himself, realizing he was about to go into a whirlwind. He lets out a nervous laugh, "Sorry,"
But you give him the best smile you can muster up with the gaping wound in your side. And subtly, almost unconsciously, his leg inches even closer to yours, again. You try to dismiss it, reminding yourself of how he always a little closer with his friends—maybe this is just another subconscious thing he did?
"Thanks, Midoriya. You’ve not done too badly yourself," you reply, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "Top five, right? I always knew you’d shoot up."
He absorbs your compliment, his face lighting up from the small bit of praise you've given him. His gaze narrows in, almost studying you, as if he’s trying to memorize your every expression.
When he speaks again, there's a hint of shyness in his voice, a subtle clinginess that feels slightly misplaced. "You know, I always thought maybe we’d end up working together, you know? Side by side." His voice dips a bit at the end, his eyes are earnest, almost pleading, as they search yours for a reaction.
"That’s...a....nice thought," deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the idea of being this close to him in any capacity would be too much, too soon.
Izuku’s expression momentarily falters, resembling a dejected puppy, and he quickly tries to mask his disappointment, shifting his demeanor to regain some of his earlier lightness. “But hey, we’re here now, right? Maybe it’s fate or something,” he jokes weakly, forcing another lighthearted laugh.
The word 'fate' hangs between you, heavy and foreboding. “Maybe,” you echo, not quite sharing in his forced cheer. The conversation pauses, leaving you acutely aware of the rapid beating of your own heart in the silence that follows.
"Yeah–heh–it’s been quite the journey," he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "But....enough about me. Tell me about you. How have things been...really?"
You shift under the blanket, feeling a bit unnerved by his continued presence. Why didn't he just go to bed? You hadn't even talked much about him in the first place. Was he fishing for something?
"Busy, eventful, and endlessly tiring," you answer truthfully, hoping your frankness might send a subtle hint, topping it off with another yawn.
He nods, mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I can imagine. It must be hard, always being on the move—never able to find time for yourself, never able to catch up. Always the playing the 'hero'."
The way he says 'hero'—with a trace of something like displeasure—makes you pause, almost surprised. "...Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"
"Right, right," Izuku agrees, though his voice trails off, leaving a lingering question in the air. He seems to gather his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours.
"You know, I've always wondered..." his tone shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative, "why we never got along better. I mean, we were always in the same circles, kind of."
You feel a slight tightening in your chest as the topic veers dangerously close to the unease you've always felt around him. "Yeah, I guess we just had different…interests," you hedge, trying to keep the conversation light and steer away from deeper waters that you’d prefer not to navigate.
How exactly could you explain to him that you found him incredibly fucking creepy until now? And even now.....
Izuku's response is slow, thoughtful. "Maybe,"
He concedes, his tone reflecting a tinge of dissatisfaction, voice more probing and less subtle than you've ever heard it before. "But I've always respected you, you know? Always thought highly of your abilities."
"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot," you reply, not sure how to respond, not used to the praises from someone like him.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've always wanted to be...closer. To understand you better. I felt like we never really got the chance."
His words hang in the air, and you're hit by the raw honesty in his voice—an honesty that's bordering on confrontation or confession—you aren't sure. You scramble for a diplomatic response, your mind racing. You didn't want to upset him here, but you sure as hell weren't looking to become best buds.
"Midoriya, it’s not that we didn't get a chance. We just...didn’t.....vibe that way. It happens."
"But why?" His frustration is more evident this time, his voice tense, losing that more playful tone. "I’ve seen how you are with others—laughing, sharing. I just don't get why I never got that side of you."
"It’s nothing personal, Midoriya. I’ve always been more introverted....Maybe our timing was just....off or something."
But he just can't seem to let this go. He's always liked you, but you've always seemed to avoid him. He's never been able to figure it out.
"...I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, right?" he starts again, his tone becoming harsher, a drastic shift from his usual soft charisma. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee, a clear sign of his restlessness. "I always asked about you, you know. Whenever I ran into someone who knew you, I made sure to find out how you were doing." The revelation sends a chill down your spine.
This could have been sweet—checking in on a friend—but his words sound creepier, like he was stalking you or something, and his intense gaze makes you recoil slightly.
"I just...I've always liked you. A lot, actually," he continues, his tone bordering on accusatory. "And I don't think you ever noticed. Or maybe you did and just didn't care."
"That’s…that's a lot to take in," you respond cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Yeah, well, it's been a lot for me too, watching from the sidelines. Always the hero everyone loves, except for the one person I actually wanted to impress," his voice rising slightly with frustration.
He continues rambling, each sentence more unsettling than the last. "I've kept tabs on you. I know it might sound weird, but I had to know. I thought if I knew more about what you liked, what you did, maybe I could find a way to be part of that." His confession sends a cold shiver down your spine.
"Isn't that just ridiculous?" he laughs, the sound hollow—bitter, filling the increasingly claustrophobic room. His eyes become distant and slightly frantic. He couldn’t stop himself.
"Midoriya, I think you’re reading too much into this—” you start, trying to defuse the tension, but he cuts you off. "No, I don't think so. I think you've always known how I felt. And you used it against me. Kept me at arm's length on purpose," he accuses, his voice turning harsh.
Witnessing Izuku transform from the awkward, 'lovable' hero you once knew into this intense, confirmed everything that nagged in the back of your head before. An anger issue? Ego problems?
"Everyone else always sees the best in me. Why couldn’t you? What made you so different?" he demands, his voice laden with a toxic mix of longing and bitterness. Finding yourself speechless, the situation spirals beyond your control. "Midoriya, please, this isn’t healthy. We should—”
"Healthy?" scoffing. "What do you know about healthy? You've barely even looked at me all these years. And now, you show up only when you need something? That's a bit contradictory, don't you think?"
The realization that you are alone with him, caught in this escalating situation, keeps you mind spiraling into a semi state of panic. Your sense heighted—fight or flight.
"You know, it's always been more than just platonic for me," his gaze cutting through the dimly lit room, locking onto you with an unsettling earnestness. He too close, too close, "I've cared about you in ways I probably shouldn't have. And I've waited...waited for you to see that."
"Midoriya, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I really think I should head home and rest," you suggest, reaching for your phone to call an Uber.
"You said you'd stay the night," he reminds you, snatching the phone quickly from your hands. "Are you really going to go back on your word now? After I've opened my home to you, treated your wounds?"
Caught off guard by his overt pushiness and blatant aggression, you stammer, "Hey—Midoriya, I didn't mean—"
"No, you never mean to, do you?" he cuts in, his tone increasingly harsh. "You come here, into my home, ask for my help, reject my friendship—once again, and now you want to leave just like that? It’s always the same with you. You take what you need and then you're gone."
"That's not fair, Midoriya. I appreciate everything you've done tonight, but I'm really not feeling well, and this conversation is a lot to process," you explain, trying to maintain your composure under his scrutinizing gaze.
Izuku's tone shifts, blending accusation with a hint of hurt, his face morphing into that lovable sad expression he wore on occasion. Much like a kicked puppy. "That isn't right. I thought you were a good person. I'm just trying to understand your problem with me. What's wrong with that?"
You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself amidst the emotional whirlwind he's creating. "Midoriya, trying to understand each other isn't the problem," you begin cautiously, "but the way you're going about it—it's overwhelming. It feels like you're not just asking for understanding—you're demanding a specific response from me, one that I'm not prepared to give."
His brow furrows, and his stance becomes defensive. "So, you're saying I'm overwhelming you? I'm some evil guy? Me? A top pro hero? After all these years of keeping my distance, the moment I try to be honest about my feelings, I'm suddenly too much?"
"No, that's not what I mean, Midoriya—please—"
Izuku’s question slices through the tense air, unexpected and jarring. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His tone holds an edge of possessiveness that makes you uneasy. The query, seemingly out of nowhere, is clearly aimed at gauging your 'availability'—challenging it.
“No, but that’s not the point,” but Izuku scoots in closer, his larger frame hovering over your laid back one. Yes, he was much bigger than he was in high school. And yes his broad shoulders stood out 3 inches past your own. You couldn't stop your panicked breathing, the situation too unbelievable.
As Izuku inches closer, his large frame overshadows you, physically cornering you against the back of the sofa. The space feels oppressively small, his presence suffocating. His voice carries a chilling mix of sweetness and venom that you've never heard before, unsettlingly different from the hero you thought you knew.
“So, let’s get this straight....again.,” you avoid his gaze, near impossible from how close he is, “You’ve never had time for me, always brushed off my attempts to be close, and now here you are, in my home, accepting my help after all these years. And you think you can just leave after that, like nothing happened?”
You feel a bit embarrassed when he puts it like that.
“Izuku, I just came here because I needed help, I never meant to—”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You needed help, and I was convenient for you,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but laced with a sharp edge. “Isn’t it funny how after all these years of avoiding me, suddenly I’m the one you run to when you’re vulnerable? Does that seem fair to you?”
“I’ve always cared about you, more than you know,” his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’ve watched you from afar, always hoping you’d look back. But you didn’t. And now here you are, finally seeing me, but only because you need something. Don’t you owe it to me to stay? After everything?”
His question hangs heavily in the air, charged with expectations you never consented to. Flustered and trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, you start to respond. “I-I’m sorry, Midoriya—”“—Izuku. Please, after all this time, don't you think you could call me by my first name? It’s like you’re still trying to keep me at arm’s length, even now,” The hurt very clear in his voice.
As you struggle to find the right words, trying to navigate the complex emotional minefield he specifically laid out, his next action catches you completely off guard. Without waiting for your consent, he suddenly shoots up, his arms scooping you up in a princess-style carry, far too easily, but expected from a bulky pro hero. The suddenness leaves you flabbergasted and flushing bright red.
"I-Izuku," you stammer, your voice tinged with shock and a hint of protest. "Ah, much better," he responds with a pleased smile. The smile he gives you is something else—wide and triumphant, as he carries you to another room.
The large room he brings you into is softly lit, the bed neatly made. You noticed a vanity on the side wall, feminine products lining the small shelf—eerily similar to the products you have in your cabinet at home. The room was set to your exact style, items you had at home—in your online wish list—were all here.
He sets you down gently on the bed, and the reality of the situation sinks in deeper. He observes you for a moment, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by your discomfort. As if he's observing a cute puppy, learning to walk on its own.
"Time for bed. I'll be back tomorrow." He turns to leave, and you reach out for him. "Izuku, wait—" voice laden with a plea for some semblance of normalcy—some answer to the questions you refused to voice, the room you were actively refusing to acknowledge.
"What's wrong?" he interjects with a grin, his tone cooing, demeaning, belittling. "You’re not going to ask me to tuck you in or stay the night, are you?" You could hear the underlying challenge. The jest sent to provoke something from you. "No, that’s not—I just think we need to talk about tonight," You're voice stead, yet you're on the brink of tears, the fear creeping up the back of your neck. A pro hero, a pro hero, he's a pro hero—
Izuku's face hardens at your words, his posture stiffening as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Talk? We’ve been talking all night. You said you wanted rest right?" he retorts defensively. "You’re safe here, aren’t you? I’m taking care of you, after all. What’s there to complain about?"
You know something isn’t right, but his aggressive pushback and the veiled mockery in his tone make you second-guess your instincts to speak up.
"Yeah, I...Thank you...Izuku," you find yourself saying, the words heavy on your tongue. The unease churns in your stomach, but the mean look in his eyes silences the protests forming in your mind. You lie back on the bed, covering yourself quickly, still in your street attire.
Izuku nods, seemingly satisfied with your subdued response. "See? That’s better. Just relax, I’ve got everything under control," he says, his tone soothing yet laced with a possessiveness that doesn’t escape you.
As he turns off the light and exits the room, leaving you in the dim glow of the nightlight, you're left to grapple with the unsettling blend of guilt and apprehension, too nervous now to challenge the dynamic he’s forcefully set.
Would you be allowed to leave tomorrow?
come home
447 notes · View notes
okwonyo · 3 months ago
Text
WANT YOU ALL OVER ME, 或 𓈒𓈒 when you are clingy.
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❛𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇’ ’𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𓈒𓈒 ❜
𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 형선 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 8OO fluff ── non idol au skinship kissing ⠀ 。。 ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )
지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i wanted it to be longer but your girl, as always, is booked a busy TT i will post maknae line soon, enjoy 🎀 also, do you guys prefer when i use present tense or the auxiliary verb ‘would’ ? :0
rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK
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HEESEUNG
he notices your figure under the door frame in an instant. although his face would be focused on his screen, you would never go unnoticed by him.
he waits patiently for you to move—which you don’t— until he speaks:
“honey, why are you still standing over here?” he blinks at you from across the room, turning his gaming chair to look at you. you look at him like a deer caught in headlights. he chuckles, “come here.”
you can tell he figured out you are nervous by the way a quiet push of air gets out of his nose as he looks at you.
he takes your hands in his as soon as you step closer, he studies you face and your breath catches. he understands. “you want cuddles baby?”
you smile, rather sheepishly, “please?” and he draws you closer, in between his legs and he makes you sit on one of his laps.
he presses your side against his torso and tuck your head in the crook of his neck. he warmth consumes you whole, you hold onto his shoulder with one hand for support—kind of.
his hand rests gently on the outside of your thigh, he bets gently there. you missed him so much.
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JAY
welcoming you in his arms— in your ear, over the loud music of the classy party, he whispers, “what’s wrong, princess?”
you bury your face into his chest and close your eyes as he kisses the top of your head ever so softly.
“i wanted to stay with you,” you respond, he is already rocking your bodies along the beat of the music when hums.
his arms do not leave your body during the entirety of the night. he holds you close as he talks with his friends. he rubs your lower back as you talk to yours.
some here along the way, he holds your wrists while he dances. with your back against his chest, he makes your arms move everywhere in the space— like a doll, he makes you dance.
you can’t help but laugh as he does so.
your boyfriend doesn't let you go even if you tell him to leave you alone, breathlessly, through loud laughter. you end up in his arms again when the songs stop. like always.
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JAKE
you watch your boyfriend get ready to leave your apartment. strangely getting very well dressed to go with his friends (who does he need to impress?).
eyes narrowed, you watch him walk toward the bed you are sitting on after he finished getting ready.
you close your eyes when his lips meet yours, your hand finding his hair on instinct. he leans against you— transforming a pack into a long kiss.
he whines in your mouth, “i have to go,” he tells you in between kisses.
still, he follows your lips like he needs to when you lean backward. “don’t go,” you whisper as your nose brushes against his. you give him a soft kiss before continuing; “i will be lonely without you.”
he bites his lips, smiling like he has the habit to do. “you are driving crazy,” and he cups your face. kissing you as he gets up, “i’ll be back soon and i’ll be all yours.”
you are the one who whines now, chasing after his lips desperately. chasing after his warmth even as he is so far— close to the room’s door— and tells you he loves you.
you throw a pillow against the door as it closes.
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SUNGHOON
“that’s a really big baby,” your friend laughs, steppin closer to you with her phone in her hand.
you say nothing as the phone’s camera films your loverholding your thighs as your legs are wrapped around right under his torso—you jumped really high and he caught you.
the man’s face is barely visible, your arms strongly wrapped around his neck. he doesn’t seem that bothered by you and your cheek pressed against his forehead.
you might look ridiculous with your pyjamas pants and the t-shirt you stole from the man holding you. all up in the air like, well, a ‘big baby’. but you don’t even care.
he frees one of his arms, holding you steadily with the other, to show off his strong and big bicep.
“yeah, that’ my baby,” he proudly says before putting his free hand behind your back and his way from the camera.
your loud laugh echoes amongst the voice of the people in the airport. a hand— your friend’s— tries to reach you but your boyfriend turns around over and over, his hold getting tighter.
you missed him so much.
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gigabyte-flare · 1 month ago
Text
Pause the Game
[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]
Summary: You decide to play a video game to help you wind down so you can go to bed. Sylus has other plans.
Word Count: 1.9k
Pairing: Sylus x fem!Reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: Pet names, dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie
A/N: Part one of 21 Reasons is going to be freaking massive so I wanted to get a one shot out to help hold me over (especially after yesterday's banner reveal WOOF). This is loosely based on Sylus's "Crying Wolf" Secret times; as an avid gamer, that audio rewired my freaking brain. So naturally, this is 5000% self indulgent, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
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It's now morning, you begin to make a mental note of all the things you have to do today before the day ends; you don't have much time.
Wake up, go water the plants, collect the eggs, milk the cows, collect the duck feathers, sheer the sheep--
"What are you playing, Sweetie?"
You practically jump where you're sat up in bed, dropping your phone in the blankets on your lap. You didn't even hear Sylus come into the bedroom.
"Are you trying to scare me, Sy?" you ask, rolling your eyes up at him as he leans over the bed to see what you're so focused on.
"Me, try to scare you? Never. Although I am shocked my little Hunter didn't even notice me…" a devious smirk appears on his lips as he leans in close to your ear, "when I was this close."
His breath on your ear causes a chill to run straight down your spine and into your core, the depths of you throbbing in response to his voice; he knows exactly what buttons to push on you. You shake your head, pushing the lewd thoughts aside just as you bring your hand up, pushing his face away.
"Sylus, come on, I was just really focused on what I was doing!"
He instantly grabs your wrist, holding it still for a moment before letting go; his devious smirk transforming into something darker, "you should know better, it'll take more than just your hand to keep me away, Kitten."
A sudden sad sounding chime emanates from your phone, drawing your and Sylus's attention to it, the words 'YOU LOSE: The wolf ate your livestock!' hovering on the screen. You let out an annoyed sigh as you pick up your phone from your lap.
"Oops… looks like you lost. Sorry for interrupting your game, Sweetie," he says with a low chuckle as he stands back up straight, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "don't I recall you telling me this morning that you are going to start going to bed early from now on? Only naughty Kittens stay up and play games."
You clear your throat, once again willing yourself to not let Sylus get you worked up, "I like to play video games to help me wind down and go to sleep!"
Looking down at you, Sylus raises a scrutinizing eyebrow, "playing video games to fall asleep? That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I think someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes."
"No I'm not! Here, give it a try! It's relaxing!" you reply, holding up your phone to Sylus.
"You want me to play your silly game?" he raises his brows, glancing down at your phone before his crimson gaze shifts back up to you, he smirks again, "Oh… you're trying to prove your innocence to me. I suppose I'll indulge you."
He gently takes your phone from you, pulling the comforter back to sit in bed next to you, "scoot over, Sweetie."
You immediately shift over so he can sit next to you, laying your head against his upper arm as he cradles your phone in his hands.
"So, what exactly do you do in this game?" he asks softly.
"It's a farming simulator; you take care of your crops and livestock each day, but if you're not paying attention, the wolf will come and eat your livestock," you explain as you watch him start to play your game, the upbeat music of the game once again filling the bedroom.
"I can see how you fall asleep playing this, it's awfully boring," he replies with another soft chuckle, "let me count the sheep… one, two…"
You playfully poke Sylus's side, "well I like this game, quit being a jerk."
Sylus lets out a huff as he smiles down at your phone. He mindlessly takes care of your farm for a few minutes before his gaze begins to wander; starting with your hands folded in your lap, up your arms until he finally settles on the necklace adorning your neck.
His breath hitches upon recognizing the necklace, "is that the necklace I gave you for your birthday?"
"It is, actually," you reply, looking downwards as your bring you hand up to gently caress the necklace resting on your collarbone area, "I really like it."
"I have good taste, don't I?" Sylas asks, his own hand caressing the necklace, leaning over so that his lips hover just next to your ear, "so pretty."
He kisses the shell of your ear, intentionally making a sound knowing it drives you absolutely wild with need. His lips move from your ear, to just behind your ear, using his tongue, teeth and lips to mark your skin. You can't help but let out a soft whimper, however, you advert your gaze to your phone in his hand, the farm being left unattended.
"Sylus, what are you doing?"
"Sorry, Sweetie. This spot was too enticing for me to resist…" he purrs into your ear.
"But the farm--"
"The farm?" Sylus sits back up, his crimson eyes giving you a predatory look, "I don't have your undivided attention, do I?"
He growls, turning his body and climbing on top of you while still under the blankets, essentially caging you with his body, his ruby eyes practically burning into your soul as he looks down at you, "you know how much I hate sharing, Kitten."
Your phone, now laying on the bed next to the two of you, plays the same sad chime from earlier. You watch Sylus's eyes shift over to your phone, that smirk you love so much appearing once more, "oh dear… looks like we lost again."
Leaning down to you, his lips hover above yours, his breaths ragged, hot and heavy as he whispers, "the wolf ate all the animals."
Before you can even say a word, he descends upon you, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved. His hands grip your upper arms like a vice as he turns his head to invade your mouth with his tongue, savoring you. In the midst of this, you try to reach over to grab your phone, but Sylus is quick to grab you by the wrist again, pinning your arm to the mattress before shoving your phone away, so hard that it falls off the bed.
"Now, why are you reaching for your phone?" he asks, burying his face into the crook of your neck, "if you need something to help you fall asleep, I can fulfill that role."
He props himself up on his arms and knees, once again caging you beneath him. First, he slips your pajama top up over your head before he slowly moves downward, trailing his lips and tongue down your body as he moves.
He stops briefly over your breasts, his hot breath caressing your hardened nipples before he speaks, "how do you think the wolf ate the animals? Like this?"
His mouth seals itself over one of your breasts, his tongue swirling and flicking your nipple; all the while his crimson gaze is locked on you. You can't help but let out a strangled moan, covering your mouth with your hand as your body trembles beneath him.
He relinquishes your breast with a pop, then proceeds to continue moving downward once more, gracing your skin with his soft lips as he moves lower and lower. He reaches the hem of your pajama bottoms, hooking them and your underwear beneath with his fingers, peeling them off slowly and tossing them off the bed once they're off. He pries your legs apart, looking up at you with an animalistic grin.
"Or like this?" he growls before diving into the spot between your thighs, lapping up the sweet nectar of your arousal.
"Sylus!" you cry out, your hand moving down to tangle your fingers in his silver locks, but rather than push him away, you force him down into your heat, earning you a dark chuckle in response; the vibrations coursing through your folds, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.
He starts by flicking your throbbing clit with his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like his life depends on it. The coil of your release binds tight in your stomach and just when it's about to snap, he moves lower. His tongue delves into your leaking hole, caressing your walls as his nose rubs your clit. Your heels dig into the mattress, trying to stop your legs from violently shaking, but your efforts are useless. Your makeup is running down the sides of your face from your violent cries of his name. He lets out a low growl, the vibrations hurling you over the edge. Your release covers tongue and mouth; when he pulls himself away from your sex, strings of your orgasm pull away with him before snapping and dripping onto the sheets below.
Sylus sits up onto his knees, his deft fingers making short work of his belt and pants zipper, "is my Kitten prepared?"
Your eyes widen when he pulls out his hardened length, the tip red and angry, dripping with pre-cum. He then proceeds to crawl back up to you, nestling his hips between your spread legs; you feel the tip of his cock prod at your entrance.
"Because the wolf is coming."
With a single jerk of his hips, he sheathes his whole length into your warm depths, causing you to yelp. As Sylus stares down at you, you drape your arms around his shoulders, trying to brace yourself as he begins to brutally thrust into you. Each thrust hits your cervix, making your eyes flutter and roll into the back of your head. Sylus buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, biting and sucking dark bruises into your skin.
"Don't hold back, Kitten. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."
His ministrations move to your throat, but not before running his tongue over the necklace he bought you, pulling a strangled moan out of you. His tongue continues to run up your throat until he reaches your chin. He smirks, a low chuckle emanating from him before his lips are on yours once more. You can taste the tangy flavor of your release as your tongues dance with each other. His large hands grasp your breasts, gently squeezing them before he rolls both nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. You sob into his mouth, which he happily devours with a growl. Soon, his thrusts become uneven, heralding his release.
With a breathy moan of his own, he snaps his hips into you once last time, his member throbbing as he paints your pussy walls white with his love. His hands grasp the pillow under your head as he rests his forehead against yours. You whimper as your legs hook around his waist, your body shaking as you come down from your own release. Your breaths are shaking as you place a gentle kiss onto the tip of his nose. He can't help but smile and laugh.
"That was more fun than you silly little game, wouldn't you say, Sweetie?"
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antimonyandthyme · 2 months ago
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WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM
/or a stuck together au
“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.
“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”
“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”
“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”
“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.
“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”
“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”
“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”
“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.
“I hate you.”
“Hard same.”
“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.
“I hate you,” Carlos says.
“Hard same,” Oscar says.
“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”
Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.
“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”
They stare at him blankly.
“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”
Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”
“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”
“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.
“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.
--
They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.
“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.
Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.
“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”
Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”
Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.
“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.
A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.
If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.
“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”
Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”
“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”
“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”
Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”
“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”
“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”
Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.
“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.
Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.
--
“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.
Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”
“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”
“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”
No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.
Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.
“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”
“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”
“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”
Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”
“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”
“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.
“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.
“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.
“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.
“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.
They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.
“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.
“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”
“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”
“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.
Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.
The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.
“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”
“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”
Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”
Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.
Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.
May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—
Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.
He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.
--
For myself, patience.
--
Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.
“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”
Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”
When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.
“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”
“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”
“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”
Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.
“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”
“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”
Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.
Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.
When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”
“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”
“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”
Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”
“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.
--
As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.
Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.
“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”
“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”
“Control freak,” Carlos says.
“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”
When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.
One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.
(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)
Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.
An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.
By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.
“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”
Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.
Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”
The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.
“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.
“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”
--
Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.
Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.
No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.
Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.
Wow, thanks
Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.
Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!
Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.
加油!
Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?
“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.
“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.
He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.
Shit. How long until they come apart?
Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.
--
At long last. Chengdu panda base.
After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.
“Well?”
“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”
Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.
“Isn’t this what you came here for?”
“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”
Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.
“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“They’re very cute, too.”
“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”
Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.
“Come here,” he says.
It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.
“Say panda,” Carlos says.
“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—
“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”
--
Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.
Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.
Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.
To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.
“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”
“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”
They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.
“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”
Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.
Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.
“Phone time?”
“No need,” Carlos yawns.
It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.
Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.
--
“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”
“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.
“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.
“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.
“Yeah!”
“So all we needed was a shower?”
“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”
“And took a shower,” Oscar says.
Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”
“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”
“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”
May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.
Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.
“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”
Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—
“Now we drive back.”
They’re not near done, yet.
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smallestapplin · 6 months ago
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Do you think Overlord from transformers would be type of guy "I love kinda of woman who can beat the sh t out of me"
Ok ok soo i imagine cybertronian reader who was able to beat the sh t out of Overlord who's now in love with cybertronian reader.
What would her team aka the lost light would react to this 😂😂
This had me cackling. Also I apologize I know you said fem but I don't know how to make the gender important to the story (I'm gender blind I'm so sorry.)
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- you beating Overlord's aft was a miracle and a half. You utilized his pride and slowness against him, though struggling more than you'd like to admit, you managed to out pace him and put the large bot in his place.
- "I don't know what I did! I beat his aft and now he won't leave me alone! I even tell him off and that just seems to get him more interested!" Is what you cry to Rodimus about.
- "I'm gonna be real with you, I don't know how to help you with that. I mean, at least he's not going off the rails and starting fights?" It's all he's got. You know he's right, but it doesn't help you one bit, so yog end up groaning and slumping over in your seat. Roddy tries to pat your back and show you some cool earth thing he has, before Overlord finds you, and coos about how worried he was when you weren't in your habsuite, and glares at Rodimus.
- Overlord still tries to fight everyone, and by Primus Megatron gets it the worst, but he's happy all that's needed is for you to angrily yell Overlord's name and call him back like a dog. Megatron always breathes a sigh of relief when your enraged voice echoes through the room, calling for Overlord to "bring you aft over here right now, I swear to primus if I have to put down my report!-" and watch as the equally large bot instantly drops his fighting stance, rushing over to you, looking far too happy and pleased to be called by you (even if you aren't'.)
- You're tired, you just want to do you job and go about your day, not wake up from a statis to the large blue mech over you, holding a thing of energon for you and asking to spar.
- Ratchet and First Aid hear and see it the most, and believe Ratchet gives you high an audio processor full. You send Overlord to the med bay frequently, and he can't even scold the bot into being more careful cause he's not even listening! He has to deal with Overlord staring at you and not even hearing him.
- First Aid tries to help in that regard, explaining to you that this is getting out of servo, but Overlord nearly throws a medical berth at him for it, only stopping when you glare at him.
- "I fight him, he likes it, I ignore him, he likes that too! Nothing I do sends the massage home for him."
- Ultra Magnus wants to help, trust him he does! This is classified as harassment and he swore to always help his crew members....but....you are literally the only thing keeping Overlord docile, and First Aid and Rodimus have already reported that Overlord does try to swing at them for interfering.
It's safer for everyone to not, after all you seem to handle yourself just fine! You're a strong bot that can handle one of the strongest gladiators in history! He lets you vent as much as you need, but eventually has to tell you he can help once Overlord oversteps.
- Lucky you, you don't have to worry about that. Overlord is obsessed with beating you in battle, but also he loves fighting you, you carry yourself with such strength and confidence once against him, he's smitten. With your speed, to him, it makes your battles feel like a dance! Your movements and skill have him smitten, as does your attitude, your fire and sass have him weak in the knees.
- Prowl is somehow your only ride or die here, he's more worried about what Overlord could do but doesn't think before shouting at him to give you space or to frag off, the temperamental officer goes into protective mode when it comes to you.
- Overlord does not like Prowl because of this, but you cling to your friend in thanks.
- "It's every damn cycle, don't you have a hobby!? Frag I don'tknow, watch a movie, pick up blacksmithing, SOMETHING!" Prowl barely has time to dodge a swift punch, but he manages, and next thing you know there does the fourth table of the week, followed by more shouting, and you having to yell for Overlord to knock it off.
- Rung is definitely getting good use as a therapist, he's trying his best to give you coping skills to help ease your frustrations with your situation, and while they work, you just come back to tell him you came back to your habsuite to Overlord on your berth, and pulling you into his lap.
- "It's rude he didn't ask before doing so."
- "AND THEN HE ASKED TO SPARK BOND, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?"
- "Oh my, he asked to spark bond-"
- Even just trying to have a professional conversation with you turns into a chore, not because of you, but because of the angry look guard dog standing behind you, glaring down at anyone speaking to you.
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