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seriouslysam8 · 1 year ago

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Why do you feel like Harry is so unliked? I thought it showed in OotP how much everyone looked up to him. The way everyone looked up to him for guidance as a leader, showed how likeable he was. Ya some people thought he was attention seekers but not all of them. Lots of people looked up to Harry and liked him. I don’t think he’s as unpopular as you think he is. I think a lot of people saw a different side of him in OotP and I don’t think only certain people got to see the nice side to him. The kid wasn’t rude to you unless you deserved it. He strikes me as polite and kind unless you hurt or insult someone he cares about. I do think Harry was more popular than Ron and although Ron is hilarious he didn’t really have very many friends either. The reason Harry didn’t hang out with Dean and Seamus in GoF was because Ron was with them first, plus Seamus was always a little jealous over Harry so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was something Ron and him bonded over during that time.

Because he really wasn’t.

He was ostracized in second year, fourth year, AND fifth year. People thought the worst of him for three entire years. Not just over small stuff. They legit thought he was petrifying students, cheated to enter a tournament for attention, and that he was a big fat liar. Each time, very few people actually believed Harry. Why? Because nobody really knew him.

I bet, though never stated, quite a few people were just exasperated with Harry in POA because now they had Dementors and Sirius Black breaking into the castle with a knife. Any normal person would be annoyed and bitter that they had to fear for their life because of Harry. Because it’s always something with Harry!

So if he’s on the outs with pretty much the entire school 3/6 years (potentially 4/6 years if you count POA though there’s no solid evidence), how did he become popular? Respecting him in the DA doesn’t mean he’s popular. Believing him in HBP and thinking he really is the chosen one doesn’t mean he’d popular.

And I don’t think it was a case in GOF that Ron got to Dean and Seamus first. I think Ron is more social and likable than Harry in initial meetings. I don’t even recall Harry trying to make new friends in GOF. He just stuck to Hermione. But, you know, I don’t blame him when everyone is wearing Potter stinks badges and calling him a cheat and an attention seeker. Yeah, that screams Mr Popularity.

Seamus thought Harry was a liar in OOTP. He wasn’t a close friend of Harry’s. If he was, he never would have jumped on the “Harry is a liar” bandwagon. Furthermore, he LIVES with Harry. He would have saw a very traumatized Harry in a more intimate way than others after the final task. Yet, he still believed Harry was a liar.

While people may have come to respect Harry in OOTP through the DA, it’s not like everyone was going out of their way to talk to him. He still stuck to Ron and Hermione. It wasn’t until HBP that we saw people taking an interest in Harry (mostly girls) because he was dubbed the chosen one. Romilda Vane didn’t like Harry for Harry. She liked him because he was dubbed as special again. As a bulk of other girls did. Plus, I think, Harry has blossomed from 15 to 16 to being taller and coming into his own. So girls probably legit thought he was cute too.

Harry wasn’t popular with the girls before. He struggled hardcore to get a date to the Yule Ball. It wasn’t like girls were flirting with him and trying to get an invite. He legit asked Parvati, someone he wasn’t close with but knew him enough to know he wasn’t a jerk. But I’m sure after that an abysmal date, she had a slight change of opinion. Parvati and Lavender were gossips. You know that got around the school.

Everyone and their Muggle cousin knew Ron was pissy at the Yule Ball because of Hermione and Krum. While it doesn’t excuse his behavior, it doesn’t linger like a cloud over him either after Lavender sucked his face off in HBP. Meanwhile, Harry had no reason to be a grump. He was a grump to be a grump.

When Ron and Hermione were prefects, Harry had no idea where to sit on the train in OOTP. He chose to sit with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. He probably chose it because of Ginny because he knows Ginny better than the others. It’s no secret that Harry loves all things Weasley. Harry hates sitting there with Neville and Luna. If Harry was friends with Neville, he wouldn’t have been so embarrassed to sit with him when Cho came around. (Though his opinions of Luna and Neville do change after the DOM debacle and he probably considered them friends).

So, if Harry wasn’t close with Neville or Seamus by OOTP (people in his own dorm), what makes you think he was popular in general? He wasn’t even popular amongst the boys in his own year. Furthermore, we can assume even in HBP that Seamus AND Dean weren’t close to Harry or really his friends because they made fun of him enough for falling off his broom that Ginny laid into them. I don’t think Ginny would have laid into them if they were Harry’s friends and taking the mickey.

So maybe you could say that Harry was “popular” in first year. Maybe he did talk to more people than we saw. But nobody stuck by his side in COS besides Romione, the Weasleys, and possibly the Quidditch team since they’d know him better than most. I can’t remember if the Quidditch team was salty against him or not. But if you believe your friend is petrifying students, well, they weren’t really your friend to begin with.

I think if anything, you could say Harry was popular in the sense that everyone knew his name, who he was, and things that he did. I do not think you can claim he was traditionally socially popular. He stuck with the same friends. You never really saw him interacting with very many people outside of Romione, the Weasleys, and the Quidditch team.

Harry is never surrounded by a bunch of people like Cho and Ginny who are described as popular. I look it as who are Harry’s friends and how does he interact with his peers to determine if he was popular. And, well, that’s lacking. Harry doesn’t have a lot of friends and he doesn’t interact with a ton of people all the time. The closest he came to that was the DA but, again, respect does not equal popularity.

That’s okay! I personally like that Harry wasn’t popular. I think it makes him more relatable and human. Given his childhood, it makes more sense that he has a tight-knit group of friends he trusts more than anyone else. I don’t think Harry would want a big group of friends. He likes the intimacy of a small group, knowing they are tight and he can count on them.

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quillyfied · 6 months ago

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Hellaverse Theories: Helluva Boss S2E3

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! Second on this freight train I’m trying to keep rolling for tonight is a VERY good episode, Exes and Oohs! Not as much to chew on here as far as predicting future episodes and character arcs goes, but good at filling in some very disturbing gaps for Moxxie, so let’s go! (Spoiler alert: last one for tonight, I take way too long even when there's not as much theorizing to be done.)

S2E3, coming in hot!

Oooh, great, starting off strong with the fat jokes again. And reminding us that Moxxie is desperately insecure. Wheeeeee.

…why does Blitzo have a stone bust of himself?

Y’know what, stupid question, I rescind that.

Also, I wish more than anything that we got clear shots of the whiteboard, because of COURSE I want to know the Secret Lore of Blitzo’s horse OCs. Because I just paused before the helicopter rips their wall out and a corner of the whiteboard says “ALL ARE TRANS <3” and I kind of love that actually. GIVE US THE LORE SPINDLEHORSE.

I love that this episode gives us some information that’s either plotholes that the creation team very neatly sidesteps with a lucky technicality, or else was planned from the beginning and they gave themselves those technicalities for when folks brought it up. Moxxie says he was born in Wrath. Animation team says: he was! But he grew up in Greed! Which. Okay. Either y’all forgot you had him from Wrath (and had Fizzarolli introduce him as a little imp from the Wrath ring at Ozzie’s), or this really has been planned from the beginning and Moxxie is a hair away from being a liar. Which. Given his dad. I don’t blame him for that at all, actually.

(King Slut the Horse OC is bisexual, versatile, AND transphobic?? Despite also being trans?? The NERVE.)

How often do you think porn falls from the sky in Hell? Bc my bet would be Often.

So there’s loan sharks in Helluva Boss and in Hazbin Hotel. However, the sharks in HB are Hellborn and have horns, and the sharks in HH are sinners with no horns. There are sinners with horns, unfortunately, but do you know how much it would help my ability to tell sinners and Hellborn in Pride apart pre-bleeding if sinners just didn’t get horns????

So according to the wiki, imps originate from Wrath because they were created by Satan, but these Greed imps look pretty different in the horn region; the male banding isn’t as prominent (ALL ARE TRANS???), and a lot of them look the same but I think that’s just animation shortcuts. But it does open up an interesting discussion: Hellborn can interbreed, it seems, and imps can be found in just about every corner of Hell, but is there some divergent evolutionary traits from ring to ring? Especially when imps start breeding with other Hellborn demons? (…sidenote, but can hellhounds breed with anyone but hellhounds? Because that’s one hybrid I haven’t really noticed and I’m curious now.) (Yes I am now thinking about furry sharks shut up)

And here we get to meet Crimson, who either has very interesting eye scarring or very cool eye tattoos. Could go either way, in his line of work.

Do y’all think Moxxie and Millie eloped? Since we find out later this episode that Blitzo knew Moxxie after he adopted Loona but before they founded IMP (and presumably knew Millie afterwards, but it’s possible Blitzo could have known her before and gotten in touch when he had a job for her; we’ll hopefully find out later this season!!), but he doesn’t really remember their anniversary despite it only being one year ago, it makes me think Blitzo wasn’t there. And when Millie introduces Moxxie to her family it’s “you remember my husband,” as if they’d only met maybe once or twice before. And obviously Moxxie didn’t have any of his family members present. So. Did they have ANYONE there? Or just the two of them and the registrar? Bigger question: how common is bigamy in Hell???

The looks Crimson gets on his face when he’s faced with Blitzo and Millie’s separate aggression episodes really makes me laugh. Like. Wow he really had a script for how this was gonna go and they are not following it, huh?

…so Chaz. He exists. And provides some very funny comic relief, don’t get me wrong, but HECK he’s awful XD Also makes me curious about Millie’s backstory, which I am SURE WE ARE GETTING AT SOME POINT, because I doubt Chaz spent any time in Wrath and we know Millie left Wrath and was doing some sort of work before IMP (additional question: y’all think maybe Millie left Wrath because her violent skillset wasn’t as valuable there? More common among the neighbors, less high clientele willing to pay for bodyguarding or assassination?).

“Are you fucking kidding me? There’s someone who’s fucked BOTH of you?” And I’m sure we all heard the unspoken “AND IT ISN’T ME???” at the end of that sentence, Blitzo :P He has some wires crossed up there (down there?), but even his willingness to sleep with Chaz just to get that much closer to Moxxie and Millie is sweet, in the right light. The right, very, very generous light.

“Something about him that was magnetic” it’s the repression, Moxxie. Yours specifically.

HA Chaz’s painting of nude Moxxie has an arrow pointing to his junk and says “smaller than mine” WHY IS THAT FUNNY (hang on distracted by the cute little heart-shaped loops in Moxxie’s sock garters, please tell me that’s still part of his wardrobe). Also…yeah, at least as of five-ish years ago, Moxxie has no scars. That is very impressive, actually. MOXXIE IS GOOD AT HIS JOB OKAY.

Kinda hate how Chaz’s first reaction was to try and help, but once the gunshots started…nah. It turned out for the absolute best, got Moxxie out from under his dad and working with Blitzo instead (and eventually with Millie), but poor Moxxie. With his sad puppy sounds. I saw a theory somewhere that Millie is the one “babysitting” Loona (oh my WORD Blitzo she’s an adult you can’t just hire a babysitter for an adult—) and tbh I kinda like it; I’d always assumed Blitzo met Moxxie first but now I’m really starting to think that he met Millie first, actually. Also, the way Moxxie is heartbroken but he’s absolutely grinning at Blitzo like he’s the best thing Moxxie has ever seen—I love it and I want to cry. The friendship is so mutual.

So much of this episode wouldn’t have happened if Millie got to kill Chaz here, but it would have been SO FUNNY to see Crimson’s reaction. They should have let her do it.

The way Blitzo is keeping an eye on Moxxie here, though—Millie is keeping her sights on the threat, and of course she’s aware of Moxxie’s discomfort, but the way Blitzo is slowly putting the pieces together on his own is fabulous. Love how intelligent he is, despite how he can’t exit cars or windows without going face-first.

(…y’think that’s why Stolas is gonna teleport Blitzo outside in Full Moon? Both to get him out of that space quickly, and to make sure he goes safely? Probably not but I’m gonna cling to it anyway.)

Y’know. Crimson is very committed to the whole fish aesthetic. The plants in the house are coral, there are shark teeth everywhere, the motifs on the wallpaper are fish bones and kinda crab-shaped in places. Why???

…the Homestuck in me is seeing the hook through the tail of one of Crimson’s goons and it’s shaped JUST RIGHT to make me go “Kanaya??? Where is she????”

No, really, though, how did Chaz managed to pull one over on CRIMSON with a rented suit and a shitty car? You don’t stay a mafia don in Greed without being intelligent, I assume, and viciously so. However. The answer may be simpler than I thought when I first started typing: Chaz would be the perfect candidate to get Moxxie back into line, as far as Crimson is aware. Doesn’t matter if Chaz actually has money or not, because the goal is Moxxie’s compliance. He’s been gone for around five years, almost right after he was inducted into the family, and if Moxxie’s skills have grown since then, I can only imagine what they used to be (when he isn’t…y’know…fumbling grenades and panicking). Moxxie’s utility is less important than his relationship to Crimson and Crimson’s need to have every aspect of his life firmly in his control, however. If it was really about the money, Crimson could have married Chaz and then killed him to inherit it. Not that he would, since he’s a homophobic asswipe on top of being a controlling abusive father, but he COULD, if having Moxxie back wasn’t also so important.

(I love how Blitzo swaps it around to “horseless friend-fucker” because IT’S EVEN MORE TRUE)

The fact that Moxxie still has HOLDINGS in the organization…I wonder if Moxxie even knew that? Pretty sure he did. Pretty sure he might even care a little bit, if he can be outraged that Chaz is being brought into the family on a whim (not knowing about the marriage bit yet, of course). Looking at a post-IMP future, Moxxie replacing Crimson as a mob boss might be a pretty badass future for him, so long as he still has Millie and the ability to live his life how he wants.

The way Moxxie reacts…has Crimson ever hit him before? Somehow, I don’t think he has. I don’t think he NEEDED to; Moxxie was already plenty scared of him. Threats worked. Moxxie probably never stepped a toe out of line before he got arrested and then just never came back.

There is something so screamingly funny about a homophobic mob boss who is so desperate to have his son back under his thumb that not only does he manipulate the kid’s boss into showing up with said kid and kid’s wife in tow, not only does he kidnap his kid when stuff doesn’t go his way, but he ACTIVELY AND WILLINGLY places FUCKING DILDOS ALL THROUGHOUT HIS HOUSE AND YARD. Who does that? WHO DOES THAT??? WHY DOES HE DO THAT? THAT IS SUCH A STEP TOO FAR THAT HE DID NOT NEED TO DO AND IT IS SO FUNNY. (And so performative, too—not actually supportive, just aggressively seeming that way in a way that’s still really threatening.)

(I’m also only slightly disappointed that dicks in Hell are the same as dicks on Earth. Can’t all be tentabulges and nooks, I suppose :P)

Okay, and here’s the bit where so many people—even me at first—thought Moxxie was forced to kill his own mother. He isn’t, but I understand why people think that. Moxxie’s parents fight, Crimson shoves Mom in a closet of some kind (or just out of the room? Hard to say, but it looks like he’s locking her away), there’s a scene of Moxxie and Crimson alone at the dinner table, and then the boat scene. But even if you ignore that the tail pattern and horn pattern and height of the imp in the boat with Moxxie and Crimson is all wrong—and I WILL be posting screenshots bc I’m tired of arguing this—if Moxxie had killed his mother, there wouldn’t have been a separating scene of dinner without Mom to break up the action between Crimson fighting with her, and Moxxie helping with his first kill on the boat. Moxxie didn’t kill his mom. Crimson killed Moxxie’s mom. And then once her meddling and keeping Moxxie out of Crimson’s early training was over, Crimson took Moxxie to the place where he dumped her body and let Moxxie see Crimson’s handiwork. Which is still dark as fuck, but not as dark as Moxxie as a child being forced to kill his mother that he loved. We can all rest easy that at least Moxxie isn’t as fucked up as Blitzo :P

Moxxie’s mom’s horn and tail patterns (make sure to tap to view them to get the full picture):

The victim’s horn and tail patterns (same, get the full view):

Hhhhhgk Moxxie and Millie are so soft for each other and it makes me so weak. Not only that, but there’s such genuine TRUST there, which is so…stupidly refreshing, still, for an adult comedy show.

(The amount of times I’ve gotten Chaz’s stupid song stuck in my head should be a crime, actually. I am COMPLAINING.)

Moxxie crying so silently, though—pretty sure he learned that way too young and it hurts me.

Despite all that’s happening, though, Moxxie finding his backbone is highly gratifying, especially knowing how insecure and whiny he can be in the office at IMP. But just like Blitzo, when it matters, he digs down and finds a steel core and sets the rest of his bullshit aside to get the job done. It’s why they’re so in sync, why Blitzo says he’s hard on Moxxie but the two of them fight together really well when the chips are down. Also why I kinda think Blitzo might give Moxxie the company if he ever decides to retire, but eh. He’d probably give it to Moxxie and Millie both because they’re truly the best team-up.

(How upsetting is it to try and go to sleep with your shitty ex and your boss boning loudly on the other side of the wall though)

Using “down to clown” to BLITZO, though. The former clown. What the fuck. WHAT the fuck.

And despite Blitzo absolutely doing the sleazy thing and sleeping with Chaz…he’s also on the clock, just a bit. (Also also, knowing that bone motifs are a Mammon thing feels weird, but it does make me cackle to see the bone suit look showing up in s2.5 on Mammon himself.) And Blitzo spending the rest of the episode in his undies and in Chaz’s coat isn’t hot and at some times cute, shut up. (Not because it’s Chaz’s, but because it’s so massive on him.) AND THE FACT THAT CHAZ WROTE IT THE FUCK DOWN. IDIOT. But he DID get the drop on Blitzo, so maybe he’s not quite that stupid.

(The silent argument Chaz and Crimson have about which side of the table to be on. Just wonderful little details that I love about this show.)

It is CRIMINAL, in fact, that Moxxie gives such a good speech and threat, and then gets tasered and duct taped into submission. Listen. LISTEN. You’ll pry Millie’s incoming badassery out of my cold dead hands. But I hope sometime soon Moxxie gets to fuck up Crimson’s whole day on his own. Because he DESERVES IT.

The fact that the priest just doesn’t know what’s going on but is very suspicious of it. Good on you, Father Jaws or whatever your name is.

Blitzo flipping through radio stations BEFORE he puts his seat belt on. Too relatable. ALSO: all of the Helluva Boss music needs to be put somewhere where I can buy it, and if this Crashing a Fucking Wedding song isn’t on it, it will be WORTHLESS to me. I love this song so much.

“Buckle up, Millie! We’re doing a Shrek!” HOW TO TELL YOUR SHOW WAS MADE BY MILLENNIALS.

Ripping a person’s heart out with her teeth is the hottest thing Millie has ever done and it’s a CRIME her back was to the wedding altar when she did it. Also using Blitzo as a knife. Just. I love this scene so much. So bloody and violent, which normally isn’t my thing, but it feels so damn cathartic. Just. BEAUTIFUL.

Blitzo’s happy little dragon clown face when he hugs Moxxie and Millie is so symmetrically pleasing to my eyes. I don’t know why I like it so much. But it’s the same shape of his face when he leaps out of the water possessed in the Ghostfuckers part of the s2.5 trailer so BUCKLE UP ME I GUESS

I love that Crimson is going to be a recurring problem, but I am actually kinda sad Chaz won’t be.

Alright! That was fun! But the next episode is Western Energy, and it’s late, so gonna save that one for tomorrow and get fresh eyes on it. Because hOLY HELL.

#quilly's hellaverse theories #helluva boss #helluva boss spoilers #quilly writing

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m6bjo4fu0 · 3 years ago

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Bnha when a stranger insults you

Contains: bakugo, shigaraki, fat gum, overhaul x gn!reader

Warnings: body-shaming, self conscious, swearing, implied de@th/violence, Chisaki kinda breaking character but its fine ig

❀ Masterlist ❀

“Look at that person!” “Ewww why would that guy date them, their butt is so fat/flat!” “I bet they have a lot of money, unless the guy just has a terrible taste-”

“Shut the fuck up you damn extras.”

Bakugo yelled at the group of idiots before turning to your slightly shaking figure.

“Don’t listen to those idiots, they’re just jealous.”

His heart broke when you looked up at him with small droplets of tears pooling in your eyes.

“B-but they’re right, you deserve someone better than me. I’m-“

“Don’t you dare apologize.”

You flinched a bit at his sudden burst with both his hands holding your shoulders, turning you towards him to gain your full attention.

“Those damn extras don’t even know you, they’re just some fucking idiots with nothing good in their pathetic life so that they have to insult amazing people like you to feel better. I love every inch of you, head to toe and arm to arm. I don’t care about their shitass judgements on our relationship, especially when their judgements are wrong.”

By this point you’re on the brink of breaking down, both from the insult and Bakugo’s words. Streams of tears already flowed down your cheeks and passerbys (i have no idea what’s the plural form I couldn’t google it) would probably think he’s hurting you if he wasn’t cupping your cheeks like you’re the most valuable yet vulnerable art in the world. His thumbs are gently wiping some stray tears away, wishing he could stop those deep, broken eyes from forming more of them. Bakugo planted a soft kiss on your forehead before continuing,

“You’re beautiful and I love you.”

“Damn look at those ugly legs.” “You should look at their face first, I’m trying so hard not to laugh right now I swear.” “How could that guy be with them? His eyes need to be checked-“

In an instant, those voices were no more than piles of dust about to be blown away and drift through the wind. (Wanting to start again-)

“Glad those idiots are gone. Being a bad person is tolerable but we have to draw the line.”

Shigaraki put on his gloves again to tightly hold your hands in his. The squeeze his hand gave was reassuring, telling you that he’s here for you.

“Don’t worry, those people are just mindless All Might fans, nothing they say are true. You’re gorgeous, they’re blinded by the world of lies to see.”

Although it’s not the best thing to say, he tried and you appreciated it. You chuckled at his attempt to lighten the mood by insulting the hero world.

“Shiggy, you just had to insult All Might as well.”

“He’s the leader of those fuckers, I blame him for their rude and untrue comments.”

He pecked you gently on the tip of your nose.

“Who are they to judge what’s mine?”

“Oh my gosh look at their hair.” “PLEASE AND THE CHUBBY CHEEKS TOO.” “The guy is so muscular and tall why is he dating that potato.” “Oh shit wait that guy kinda looks like Fat Gum-“

Taishiro (Fat Gum’s first name in case you didn’t know) stopped in his tracks and turned towards the group.

“Please keep unpleasant comments to yourself, my s/o and I don’t appreciate them.”

The group frantically apologized at the 8ft, muscular, serious, and kind of scary (right now) man and scurried away, leaving the two of you on the empty street.

“If I were in fat form, the group definitely would’ve not made those comments. Shallow people, I must say. You’re really pretty tonight and I appreciate your effort to dress up for our date, and that is not something a random person on the street would notice. You’re amazing the way you are, don’t let those lies get to you.”

He engulfed you in a hug, burying your in his chest (or stomach idk he’s too tall) as you snaked your arms around his waist. His palm held the back of your neck when he heard soft sniffles escalating, and he hated the way you felt in his arms all broken. Taishiro loves holding you, but it pained him to see you broken and hurt, only having him as a support. You’re so vulnerable and soft, and he knows that it’s his duty to protect you at all costs, even if it’s just from some careless words of a group passerby. He picked you up, still letting you hide yourself in his shoulder as he began walking home. Before you drifted off to sleep, you heard him speak.

“Don’t worry, I am here and I love you.”

(I AM HERREEEEE😭😭)

“How is the guy with them? That is the worst skin I’ve ever seen.” “Ew look at their legs! Oh the arms too!” “Poor guy, having such an embarrassing s/o-“

“I beg your fucking pardon? I didn’t hear your words correctly, did you just insult my s/o?”

As the two strangers began fearfully backing away, you saw Chisaki walking towards them while slowly taking off his gloves. In the blink of an eye, the two are a pile of clothes on the floor without any trace of their disappearance. Chisaki strolled back to you, mumbling something about getting dirty as his gloves covered his hands again. The gloved palms uncharacteristically came up to your face, cupping your cheeks through your mask (he insisted on you wearing one too because of how ‘the outside is full of germs.’)His masked lips softly pecked your forehead, soothing you as your eyes closed.

Chisaki had a palm on the back of your head and another on your thigh, pulling you up in his hold with your face still in his purple collar. Although his grip wasn’t tight, it was firm and comforting. You reached up to his left ear, lightly playing with the piercings and caught his attention. He planted another kiss on the side of your head, reassuring you.

“I love you.”

“More than the yakuza?”

He held you tighter.

“More than anything.”

Author’s notes: why hate when u can sleep💛

2.6.22

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years ago

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Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks

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itgirlification · 4 years ago

Text

supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

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searenbound · 3 years ago

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@asimpletroll posting screenshots in hopes that leaving the ask in my inbox will remind to actually write it.

Also this sounds like a growth hormone deficiency. I know this because that’s actually why I’m so short, it was diagnosed way too late to actually do anything about it for me, so now I’m tiny.

Interesting fact, at least to me, there’s other symptoms associated with adult growth hormone deficiency. More body fat, anxiety, fatigue, greater sensitivity to heat and cold, to name a few. This of course isn’t all of them and they’re possible symptoms but not definite.

Anyways, I bring this up because what if that’s why he’s extra protective? A mixture of ‘no one is gonna touch her if I have anything to say about it’ and guilt over being the golden child ment she got looked over so now he’s over compensating by being the most doting oldest twin possible.

Bet she doesn’t even hold any ill will towards him. Just loves her Shou-niichan and wishes he’d stop blaming himself for something their dad did. It wasn’t his fault and he had it really rough too.

Also the image of Aizawa just trying to figure out what’s going on only to have Todo square the fuck up at him is funnier than it should be. Probably because Aizawa really, really has to remind himself he can’t murder his students when they piss him off. That would be illegal and wrong to do, but boy is it tempting.

Oh and Dabi finding out and deciding it’s his brotherly duty as an Alpha to keep an eye out for any potential threats just because that’s his baby sister? Adorable.

#nat chats #domestic fluff #bnha omegaverse #mha omegaverse #bnha abo #mha abo #asimpletroll #bnha todoroki #mha todoroki #alpha todoroki

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afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years ago

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Missed You

Summary: It’d been a long year with Chris gone, but he promised to become a better man for your family.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of jail time, smut, swearing, Chris calling the reader his bitch, daddy kink, breeding kink

(A/N: I saw this gif and got inspired. Anyway Chris and reader are mid 20’s in it. Feedback is like drugs for me so please.)

Tags: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya , @night-of-the-living-shred, @liquorlaughslove

Chris was bulkier than you remembered. The scrawny boy you’d crushed on in high school had been replaced by the man walking towards you. Through the many phone calls, letters he’d written to you, and the occasional visits it didn’t take long for you to realize there wasn’t much for him to do except read, eat, sleep, and workout. It paid off because damn he looked good.

You’d been waiting for this moment since he’d waved goodbye. Seeing him walk away from you was so hard. This hadn’t even been the first time he’d got in trouble with the law, it’s just that this time felt so different now that you had a one-year-old who was now about to turn three to take care of and had to hold everything down. Somehow you managed, not without help, but you made it through.

Now he was finally there. Trying to coerce you into letting him hit it even though he knew you had somewhere to be. His ma wanted to have a nice family dinner. Little Chris was already there, probably being fussed over by his grandma. All you were supposed to do was stop at home so he could shower and change and be on your way. He just couldn’t resist you in that dress.

He loved seeing you in sundresses and you knew that which is why you wore it. All he could think about once he saw you was seeing it bunched up around your waist since the moment he saw you. “Baby, we can’t,” you tried to reason with him, giggling as he kissed your neck.

“C’mon. It’s been a year. I missed my girl,” he whispered into your ear before easily picking you up, to place you on the kitchen table. He’d just gotten out of the shower and had peeked into the kitchen to see you packing up some stuff you wanted to take to his mom’s. He hadn’t even gotten dressed because he knew what he was trying to do. Only his chain and the tattoos that were scattered along his body.

You looked up at him with a pout as he held you tightly against him. “Baby,” you groaned, trying to be serious. It was true, though. It had been a very long year. Your vibrator could only get you through so much. You didn’t want your first time together since he’d been home to be like this. Not a rush. You wanted to take your time.

The way he was kissing your neck let you know you were about to lose this battle. You shivered because fuck his lips did feel good. You touched his stomach, running your finger up and down the six pack that hadn’t been there last time.

What a fucking jerk. He knew what seeing him in the chain did to you for some reason. Especially with that fresh haircut. Fuck your man looked so yummy.

He gripped your ass roughly, letting you know who the fuck was in charge right now. “Oh, no, Baby. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. You know better.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you sighed before tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth trying to look up at him all innocent.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned softly. He grabbed your hand placing it on his already hardening dick. He was so long and thick your hand could barely wrap around it. It was so damn fat. “I know you missed me, Baby.”

“I did.” You looked up at him as you now stroked his heavy cock. He put his thumb on your lips before greedily kissing you.

It didn’t take long for him to pick you up again his muscles flexing against you as he made you wrap your legs around his waist. The whole time he’d carried you to the bedroom his dick was rubbing into your covered pussy.

He finally sat down on the bed with you in his lap. He laid back taking you with him your lips still on his. You pulled away so you could start taking your dress off, but he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Leave it on,” he said before smacking your ass.

You nodded, your eyes falling to his chest to that chain as you finally made out the script of the tattoo you’d never seen before. “Is - is that my name?” You asked tracing your finger over it.

He nodded leaning back with a smirk on his lips. “Mhm,” he said.

“Your mom is gonna kill you.” You grinned.

He shrugged. “You’re it for me, Baby. I want to become a better man for you.”

“Oh, Chris.” You teared up. He leaned up so he could reconnect your lips. You leaned down to him and he pushed your panties to the side so you could finally sink down onto his cock.

You hissed as your pussy was finally full of him after too long. You sat up straight so you could ride him properly. He grabbed onto your hips so he could fuck you with force. “So damn tight,” he groaned. “Fucking missed this pussy.” He looked so beautiful. His chain resting on his chest.“You missed me, huh, Baby? Missed my dick.”

His grip on your hips was tight as he made you bounce up and down his thick length. “Yes, Daddy.”

“No one else got to touch this pussy, right?” He groaned knowing the answer because you were his good girl. “It’s all mine?”

Your pussy felt so creamy on his cock. “Never. This is your pussy, Daddy.” You changed pace grinding your hips back and forth. He helped you move because even though you were on top, he was still in control.

“That’s right, Bitch. This is Daddy’s cunt.” You know you shouldn’t like your boyfriend calling you his bitch, but there was something about him degrading you that was so addicting.

Your dress had bunched up around your waist as you let him fuck into you. He almost felt like he was to much to take, but you were determined. You’d been daydreaming about this moment this whole year. Needing to feel him however he wanted to give it to you.

He looked between the two of you, to see your cream running down his length and making a mess on his pelvis. He was glad that you didn’t hate him. When it all first happened it’d been hard. The two of you getting close to splitting up, but somehow you managed to stick it out.

He’d felt like a piece of shit for putting you in that position. Not like it had been the first time, but after you got pregnant with Little Chris he’d done such a good job at staying out of trouble until he got cocky. Fucked around too much. It was okay. He was out now. You were back in his arms and on his dick. That was all that mattered.

Now he had your name tattooed to his chest because you’d be his girl forever. He wanted to grow old with you. Wanted to put more of his babies in you. He’d get his shit together and give you that ring he’d had hidden in his Ma’s house since last year. Then give you that big wedding he knew you wanted. That you deserved.

Just the way you were moaning while riding him was letting him know you deserved the world. He needed to treat you right. First, though, he needed to dick you down properly.

He got up still inside of you making you squeal. “Chris!” You squealed.

He chuckled before getting back onto the bed. He needed to feel your perfect cunt creaming for him over and over again while you withered underneath him. “Daddy!” You cried as he slammed into you again.

“That’s it, Bitch. Take this dick. Bet you didn’t even think about any other man, huh.”

You gasped as he rammed into you. You did love how he made you take him. How he stuffed you with his thick cock without any mercy. “Never! This is yours. I’m yours. This pussy is yours!”

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Did you stop taking your birth control like I told you?” His voice broke and you could tell he was so close.

His chain was dangling in your face. You don’t know what came once you as you put your mouth on it. You nodded looking into his bright blue eyes. You clawed at his muscular shoulders, needing something to hold onto as your orgasm finally crashed onto you.

It didn’t even stop. The way he was fucking you through it made you swear that you could feel him in your stomach. All you could do was take it like he’d told you to. It was all you wanted.

“Daddy’s gonna put another baby in this pussy.” His hips stuttered, losing the rhythm he’d built up since now that you’d cum all he wanted was to flood your pussy with his seed. “You wanna give daddy another baby? Want me to fuck my baby into you?””

You nodded all blissed out, but still taking it because you wanted to be a good little wifey. “Get me pregnant,” you cried, falling back against the pillow with the taste of metal on your tongue.

It was like music to his ears and the final push he needed to finally reach his breaking point. He went in so deep as he finally unloaded into you. Painting your walls with his thick cum.

His Ma was gonna kill him and rightfully blame him for the two of you being late, but he couldn’t resist finally being with you after this long. He promised he’d get his shit together this time. Now that he’d hopefully have two babies to take care of. He didn’t want you to have to worry about anything ever again. He’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger.

#Chris Evans smut #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x black women #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x wife!reader #knocking out these WIPs

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hermannsthumb · 3 years ago

Note

Town council Hermann vs Alien Conspiracy Newt please!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! inspired both by this tweet and conversations abt a newt/herm AU of that tweet with @k-sci-janitor (who also thought of the funniest sign newt made in this fic, aka the cheekbones one, and what his tats should look like). this is long sorry :/ gets a little spicy towards the end but nothing worse than a high pg13/light M

----------------------------------------

The evening of the weekly town council meeting, it pours like nothing else. Which Hermann figures is really quite appropriate. Loathe as he is to soak his trouser legs, trudge through the mud that used to be his front walk, and hold his umbrella for so long his arm aches (for the community center is a mere half-mile walk away that Hermann can't justify substituting with a bus), he can't imagine council meetings happening in any other sort of weather. In fact, they rarely tend to; their dreariness seems to be a necessity, part of the preparation, as if to put everyone in as miserable a mood as possible.

Hermann hates council meetings. He supposes he'd be more sympathetic towards the plights of his constituents—if one can call one's neighbors constituents—if he'd wanted the damned job in the first place. As it is, he feels a bit like he was conned into it. Hermann had been a lowly physics professor at the local community college, passionate about public education and funding for public education and all those proper sorts of things an educator ought to be concerned about, when he suddenly found himself seized with the idea of making a difference. So he ran for a head position on the council. And he won it. Only no one told him that the council deals a lot less with public education and a lot more with noise complaints, cul-de-sac bake sales, and raccoons in dustbins, which makes why he ran completely unopposed all the more obvious.

A fat raindrop explodes against the edge of Hermann's umbrella and splashes his glasses. Hermann grits his teeth and wipes them dry with the cuff of his sweater. Bloody meeting; bloody rain; Hermann just wants to go back home, and fix up a nice pot of herbal tea, and set a blanket in the dryer for ten minutes, and...

"Dr. Gottlieb! Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, wait—!"

A blur in an oversized yellow raincoat hurdles itself at Hermann from the stairs of the community center. Hermann considers pretending he is a different Dr. Gottlieb, one who certainly has no reason to know maniacs in raincoats, or maybe high-tailing it in the other direction. This is the other reason why Hermann loathes council meetings: Newton Geiszler.

The unfortunate thing is that Newton Geiszler was, at one point, a respectable academic type, and in fact one of Hermann's own colleagues at the community college. (Hermann only found this out after the fact—he does not make a habit of intermingling much with the biology department.) And Hermann does mean was. Around a year ago, Geiszler was asked to temporarily step down from his position after he suddenly and unexpectedly went off the deep end. He has not been asked to come back yet. And not without reason. "Dr. Geiszler," Hermann sighs. "I've asked you not to lurk about here like that. It's...unsettling."

"Sorry, man, sorry," Geiszler shouts. He stomps over and makes himself at home under Hermann's umbrella. Hermann's not sure how he's been managing to see anything, let alone Hermann approaching down the sidewalk: his glasses are completely fogged-up and rain-splattered. "Do you mind if—thanks, dude."

Geiszler flips his hood down. He’s short, only coming up to Hermann's nose, with stubble nearly overgrown to a full beard and a mess of wet brown hair. He shakes that hair now, like a dog, soaking Hermann in the process. Hermann growls. "I beg your pardon,” he says.

"Oops,” Geiszler says. “Sorry. Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm really glad I caught you, there are—there are some things I wanted to tell you about. Before the meeting. They're—hold on." He rummages around in the deep pockets of his raincoat and produces a damp notebook, which he begins to flip through frantically. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about," Hermann says. Geiszler fumbles to push his glasses back up his nose. "In fact, there are some things I need to speak with you about as well."

"You've seen them?" Geiszler says in a hushed tone.

Hermann scowls. "I certainly have.”

They first started cropping up in the forest around the little cabin Geiszler calls home. Then, like dandelions or bamboo, they spread fast and far—to the town commons, in the front lawn of the coffee shop Hermann frequents, in front of his house. Whenever Hermann dashes one down with his cane or hauls one off to a rubbish bin, two more only crop up in its place. It's annoying, frankly. As if Hermann doesn't have to deal with enough already.

3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS IN ONE WEEK - WHEN IS THE COUNCIL GOING TO DO SOMETHING?, the new one sitting in front of the community center says.

It's better than last week's sign, Hermann supposes. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - AND HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS BLIND TO IT.

"You know you need a permit for those, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says. "Or, at the very least, the council's permission. They're a public nuisance."

"My signs are a public nuisance?" Geiszler shouts. Hermann flinches back. Geiszler may be compact, but if he doesn't have the shrillest voice on the whole damned planet. "Open your eyes, dude! A dozen people went missing last month! The only public nuisance is whatever's coming from—" He bites his lip and jabs his finger at the sky, as if saying anything remotely akin to outer space would suddenly send fleets of UFOs pouring down from above. "And you're just letting them walk right fucking in."

“I thought they were flying in?" Hermann says. He raps Geiszler’s shin with the end of his cane. "Do get out of my way, Dr. Geiszler. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and you're welcome to air all of your grievances then."

Geiszler is silent as Hermann ducks around him and ascends the community center ramp. For a moment, Hermann thinks he may have won this small victory, and then he hears the wet slaps of Geiszler's rain boots against the pavement behind him. "Really funny," Newton says. "Real fucking funny, dude. I bet it'll be just as funny when they come for you next!"

Hermann unlocks the door. Geiszler waves a stack of black-and-white polaroids beneath his nose. "I took these last week," Geiszler says, and begins flipping through them as frantically as he had his notepad. Each one is blurry and indistinct, like Geiszler snapped them through a gauzy curtain with shaking hands. Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. "The day that waitress went missing from the bus stop. And two nights after that—your neighbor, the one who went outside to let his cat in and never came b—"

"Enough," Hermann says. He pushes the polaroids away, knocking two to the ground, and Geiszler scrambles to pick them up before they're ruined. "Dr. Geiszler, it is undoubtedly tragic that these people have—er—vanished, as they have, but continuously insisting extraterrestrials had something to do with it, and furthermore—" Geiszler opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hermann raises his voice and pushes on. "—furthermore, that I'm meant to do something about it, is completely—well, it's unhinged, frankly. I'm not law enforcement. Or the mayor. Or bloody—NASA. What do you want from me?"

Geiszler stares at him for a long time. He pockets his photographs. "They're gonna come for you," he says, ominously. "Just like they did for me."

The meeting goes off as expected, which is to say, badly. Hermann gets shouted at by nearly everyone in town, many of whom blame Hermann and his presumed negligence for the disappearances over the past year as well (blessedly, they don't also blame aliens), though many more of them blame him for more trivial things such as the broken water fountain in the commons or the library's slow wireless internet. Hermann can't decide which is worse.

As it is, when the clock strikes eight, he's more than ready to go home. "Right," he announces, standing up and making a show of tidying his meeting notes. They're already tidy: Hermann's notes are always meticulous. He continues—rather quickly, in case someone gets bold and attempts to interrupt him, "Thank you all very much for such a, er, productive meeting. I'll make sure to pass along everything you've said to the appropriate people. If there's nothing else..."

Geiszler jumps to his feet. A few people groan; Hermann has a feeling they're just about as sick of him as Hermann is. "Um, yeah, actually, I want to add something."

"No," Hermann says. “Dr. Geiszler, please, we can talk—”

"When we were outside," Geiszler continues anyway, raising his voice, "you asked me what I wanted you to do. Well, I just want you to listen to me! That's all! I have so much proof—so much I can show you—and you won't even—!"

"Proof?" Hermann says. "Your rubbish photographs?”

"It's not just the photographs! It's other stuff, too! Like—" Geiszler lets out a long, angry huff of air, and actually balls his fists up at his sides. Hermann has never seen him so incensed, not even when he accused Hermann of being an alien himself during a council meeting last summer. "Look, just come to my house and I'll fuckin' show you. Or are you that afraid of being—I don’t know, proven wrong?"

Part of Hermann is convinced that if he follows Geiszler out to his isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, it'll be the last thing he ever does. At the very least, he certainly has no desire to spend more time with Geiszler than he's already forced to. Yet—on the other hand—Hermann does not appreciate the challenge, nor does he appreciate being made to look like a fool by the man who chairs the local paranormal society. "Fine," he snaps, and Geiszler startles in obvious surprise. "Fine, you wretched little man. I’ll let you show me whatever proof you think you may have, so long as you take every single one of those signs down."

"Um," Geiszler squeaks. He clears his throat. "D—deal?"

Hermann seizes his cane and thrusts his chair back under his table roughly. "Well?" he says to the rest of the hall, none of whom have budged since Geiszler began shouting his head off. He scowls at the lot of them. "The meeting is over. You can leave."

It's Hermann's job to shut down the building each week, so he waits for the very last stragglers to toss out their paper water cups, shrug on their raincoats, and file outside before switching off the lights and locking up. He finds Geiszler lurking by a rather worse-for-wear green VW Beetle at the curb, the hood of his raincoat flipped back up over his hair. Hermann desperately hopes that the car isn't Geiszler’s. He is Hermann’s ride home tonight, after all. "I took the signs down," Geiszler says in a rush. "All of the ones around here, anyway. I'll have to do the rest tomorrow." He jerks his thumb at the backseat of the Beetle, where Hermann sees a haphazard pile of some of the 3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS signs. His heart sinks. The X-Files bumper stickers should've been a dead giveaway, really.

"Thank you," Hermann sighs. "Well, let's get this over with."

"The heat is busted, so you might wanna leave your coat on," Geiszler says apologetically when Hermann manages to squish himself into the passenger's seat. The floor is a sea of empty Dunkin' Donuts cups, stacks of pulp science (or, if Hermann were to be less kind, pseudoscientific) magazines spanning back at least half a decade, and a pin-littered linen tote bag filled to the brim with boxed Annie's macaroni and cheese.

"Uh, sorry," Geiszler says. "I had to run some errands earlier. You can just—toss that in the back. Yeah."

The ride is short but bumpy, and though the removal of Geiszler's shopping bag offers Hermann more leg room, there is nothing that can make up for his tragically awful driving and his tragically awful CD collection. Hermann almost bolts from the car when they finally pull up at Geiszler's ivy-shrouded cabin, so relieved to have made it there in one piece that he's all but forgotten that he must now spend the rest of the evening with Geiszler, too. He remembers soon enough: another duo of aggressive signs have been pounded into Geiszler's mossy front path, TURN BACK NOW - ALIEN ABDUCTION ZONE, and a rather good sketch of Hermann beneath WHAT ARE THOSE CHEEKBONES HIDING? "That one's from the summer," Geiszler says sheepishly, kicking down the latter with the toe of his boot. "I keep forgetting to take it down. I don't still think you're an alien, by the way."

"Er, thank you," Hermann says. "I suppose?"

"They wouldn't be that obvious," Geiszler says, emphasizing the they with a meaningful glance up at the night sky.

"Of course not," Hermann says.

He's not quite sure what he expected Geiszler's house to look like. Some sort of—conspiracy nutter's den, perhaps, with aluminum foil hats and deconstructed radios and elaborate photoboards full of thumbtacks and red string. Or the interior of his car on a larger scale, with empty takeout containers and crumpled up papers on every surface. He's...sort of right. There's a noticeable lack of tinhats, but there are plenty of (modestly-sized) corkboards on the walls and multiple coffee cups peeking out of a recycling bin. The rest is merely precisely what Hermann would expect from an academic in his 30s: books, and mis-matching furniture, and a sink of dishes begging to be washed. It's...a bit disappointing, frankly. Though Hermann is rather impressed with the sleek telescope angled in front of the back slider door. Impressed, and envious. It's a very nice model.

"Make yourself at home," Geiszler says, unzipping his voluminous raincoat and tossing it, along with Hermann's, over the back of a worn armchair. He's wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that reveals his heavily tattooed, and deceptively shapely, arms. Hermann tears his eyes away and forces himself to sit down at one end of Geiszler's couch. "I'm gonna make us some coffee. Do you want any sugar or non-dairy creamer?"

"No, thank you," Hermann says. "I don't drink coffee this late. It'll keep me up all night."

"Well, I hope so, that's kinda the plan,” Geiszler says. He rolls his eyes. “The aliens never come before at least midnight. Soy milk or almond milk?"

Hermann thinks, briefly and longingly, of his nice warm bed, the blanket he intended to toss in the dryer, and the herbal tea he won't be having after all. "Almond milk?" he hazards.

Geiszler stares at him in evident disgust. "Dude, I was kidding. You know how bad that shit is for the environment? It takes, like, a fuckin' thousand gallons of water or something like that for one carton of almond milk. It's insane. I mean, I guess it's still less water than what dairy needs, but there are plenty of better options."

"Oh," Hermann says. Hermann drinks skim milk. "I'm sorry. Er. Soy milk?"

As Geiszler fixes them mugs, Hermann begins to poke around some papers scattered across the coffee table. One is a list of names and dates, seemingly random, Hermann thinks, until he recognizes (scrawled in purple ink at the very bottom of the page) that of the gentleman who disappeared from his back porch just down Hermann's street. When he recognizes another—a teenager who worked as a barista at Hermann’s favorite coffee shop—he realizes it must be everyone who's vanished from town in the past year. Another paper has the same dates repeated, though not alongside any names—rather, bizarre little phrases like circling lights and that sound again. "You found my notes," Geiszler says cryptically, and then thrusts a mug out to Hermann.

Hermann takes the mug. A logo on the side tells Hermann it was from some academic conference in California ten years ago. "What are they supposed to mean?" he says.

Geiszler snorts. "Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious. Look—" He sits next to Hermann, far too close, and points at the column of numbers on the first page. "These are the dates when people have been reported missing," he says, and then scans his finger over to the second page, "and these are the dates when I've observed extraterrestrial—or at least, unexplainable—activity overhead. See how they match up almost perfectly?

"Mm," Hermann says. He does not. "So—if I am to understand you correctly—you believe that a, ah," he takes the page back from Geiszler, "a 'weird swoopy sound' from overhead had something to do with that poor young woman disappearing from a bus stop last week?”

"It wasn't just a weird noise!" Geiszler exclaims. "I showed you the pictures. I ran outside when I heard it, and thank fuck I had my camera, because I caught those lights just as they were leaving. And then what do I find out the next morning? There was another abduction, at almost the exact same time I saw the lights!"

"Ten miles from here," Hermann reminds him. "It would've had to have been a bloody fast ship."

"Yeah, no shit, Hermann," Geiszler says. "They're, like, fucking—mega-advanced lifeforms. They probably have the tech to vaporize the entire Earth if they wanted. Of course it was a fast ship.”

Geiszler is still sitting awfully close to Hermann. He runs very warm, unlike Hermann, warm enough to make Hermann warm too—like a scruffy, tattooed, freckled furnace. Yes, freckled, for Geiszler has the lightest dusting of freckles across his round chipmunk-like cheeks that Hermann finds inexplicably charming. He wonders if Geiszler would notice him loosen his collar a bit, perhaps take off his sweater. He really is getting quite warm. "So, I was saying," Geiszler continues, and though he speaks almost directly into Hermann's ear, he sounds as if he's a mile away from him. "Waitress at bus stop—weird lights over my cabin—waitress gone from bus stop. The proof is, like, undeniable!"

"Indeed," Hermann says.

He undoes the top button of his collar. He hasn't touched his coffee yet—he wonders if Geiszler even cares. The tattoo on Geiszler’s bicep, some sort of space tentacle monster, stares back at Hermann. "I'm telling you, man," Geiszler says, "this is no joke. They're taking people, maybe even for good."

They're gonna come for you, just like they did for me. When Geiszler began spouting nonsense about aliens last year, he was not booted from the biology department right away. Mostly everyone at the college, Hermann knows, tolerated his eccentricities on account of his admittedly brilliant mind and popularity among the students. The final straw came when Geiszler's extraterrestrial delusions (for what else could they be?) reached a new level: he showed up to campus in his pajamas one morning, raving that the aliens were not only zooming about over his house, but had actually abducted him the previous evening. "You seemed to fare alright, though, didn't you?" Hermann says. "When you were—ah—taken? They even dropped you back off in time for work. Quite courteous, I should think."

"That's—" Geiszler begins to shake his leg up and down, nervous energy radiating up his body and through Hermann's. He spills some of his coffee on the carpet. "That was—that was dumb. I got lucky. I think I was one of the first ones, you know? Because the disappearances didn't really get bad until, like, a month after that? I was in bed—and, and it wasn't like how it is in movies, I wasn't sucked up in a giant beam of light or anything like that, one minute I was there and then the next I wasn't, I was somewhere...else. And—uh. I don't really remember what they looked like. I tried to—sketch them out, but it was like trying to remember a dream, all the specific details about them just faded once it was over. But, um." He rubs the back of his neck, and Hermann is surprised to see him blushing. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think I kinda freaked them out."

Hermann can't help but snort. "You what?"

"I'm serious!" Geiszler shrieks. "I freaked them out. I was just really excited about it all. Like, dude, come on, I was abducted by aliens. How fucking cool is that? I just kept asking a bunch of questions, like, are you gonna probe me? are you gonna take me back to Mars or Jupiter or, like, I don't know, fucking Gallifrey? do you even understand what I'm saying, how do you communicate? and then the next thing I knew, I was landing on my ass in the school parking lot. They must've been observing me like I was observing them, like, they maybe knew I worked there? Anyway—" He shakes his head. "I tell you what, I'm real glad I decided to not just wear boxers like usual to bed that night. That would've been really embarrassing."

Bombarded with the sudden mental image of what Geiszler usually looks like in bed, Hermann (feeling rather warm again) tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He has certainly seen more than enough for the night, and if his mind is straying to something as prosaic as what does Dr. Geiszler look like half-naked?, it likely means it’s time for bed. "Er, right. Dr. Geiszler—"

"Just call me Newt, man," Geiszler says.

"Newton," Hermann concedes. It gives him a private little thrill. No one calls Newton Newton; it’s always either Newt or Dr. Geiszler. "Newton,” he says again, “this has been a very—illuminating—evening, but it's getting rather late, and I think you ought to drive me home before—"

And then Newton begins to take off his shirt.

Yes, a small part of Hermann's brain whispers traitorously, yes, yes, yes, even as Hermann recoils and stammers out, "Newton, what—?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'm not coming onto you," Newton says. He drops his t-shirt on the floor and jabs a thumb at his chest. His bare chest. "See, look. Proof."

Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. The giant Godzilla tattooed over Newton's pectorals? The flying saucer tattooed above Newton’s belly button? Newton’s nipple piercings? Hermann thinks he understands what an overheating computer feels like, an influx of too much information with processors unequipped to handle it. "I," he says. Newton’s belly button is not pierced. Hermann’s not sure why he thought it would be.

"Look at my chest, dude!" Newton says, tapping his skin insistently.

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away from the nipple piercings. In the dead center of Newton's chest, spaced perfectly between his pectorals and right over the nostrils of Godzilla, is a strange, almost luminescent glyph of a language Hermann can't begin to recognize. It's raised from Newton's skin, more like a brand than a tattoo. And...well, when Hermann says luminescent, he really means it. The squiggle seems to glow blue. "This was on me the next morning," Newton says. "I think they marked me. Like you'd tag a lab rat?”

Hermann can't help himself: he reaches out and touches the mark. "Strange," he murmurs. Compared to the heat of Newton’s body, the glyph is quite cool. Frigid, in fact, like metal, and yet as soft as the rest of his skin.

He's close enough to Newton to hear the hitch in his breath when they make contact, and as he traces his fingertips over the glyph, he can feel Newton's heart pounding beneath them. Strange, indeed; Newton has been such a thorn in his side for so many months, and yet all Hermann wants to do now is touch even more of him. He trails his hand lower, down to the flying saucer on Newton's soft abdomen. Newton inhales sharply. "Um," he says. "Should—should I put my shirt back on?"

"Do you want to?" Hermann says.

"Not really," Newton says.

He stares at Hermann, eyebrows knit together behind his glasses, like he can't seem to make sense of him. His confusion is very much warranted; Hermann can’t seem to make sense of himself right now, either. Then, to Hermann's supreme annoyance, the pieces seem to click into place in Newton's mind, and he grins. "Oh, duh," he says. "No wonder. You wanna fuck me, don't you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

That would certainly explain the strange warm feeling that comes over Hermann sometimes when he thinks about Newton in the dead of night that he has, up until this very moment, attributed to bouts of temporary insanity and/or a latent murderous desire. Nothing so dramatic as all that, then—just regular human biology. Urgh. How disgusting. And for Newton, of all people. “Obsessed with you?” Hermann sniffs, desperate to retain some element of propriety even while he begins to tug at Newton’s button fly. “Newton, you have spent thousands of dollars on yard signs just to invite me over for a coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, and it worked,” Newton says.

He curls his fingers in the front of Hermann's sweater, thumbing over one of the buttons.

“Even when I thought you were an alien,” Newton says, “I still kiiiiinda wanted to fuck you.”

Delusional or not, Newton looks terrifically good with a beard.

"Wait," Hermann gasps some time later. "Newton, stop a moment—"

Newton pulls away from him, frowning. He pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "What is it?" he says. "Did I hurt—?"

But Hermann pats at his shoulder frantically, pointing beyond him at the back slider and the dark of the forest beyond that. Newton cranes his neck around. "Only I'm sure I saw something. Lights, or…” Hermann feels a small twinge of embarrassment. The night is dead silent, and dead still. “Well, now I'm not sure."

“You probably imagined it," Newton says. He slips back down to press a kiss at Hermann's jaw. “It’s too early to be them.”

Not even ten yet. Newton kisses behind Hermann’s ear. It feels very nice. "Yes," Hermann agrees slowly, his eyelids flickering shut. He smooths his hand up and down Newton’s back. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Newton’s stories must have left him on edge. Which is of course ridiculous, because they’re all a load of rubbish—there may be extraterrestrials somewhere out there in the great wide universe, but they’re certainly not swooping down and plucking up hapless test subjects from Earth, let alone their small town, every other day. Hermann has much more important things to concern himself with right now, like how it feels when he threads his fingers in the soft strands of Newton’s hair, or the sound Newton makes when Hermann digs his nails into his skin, or how wonderful kissing Newton is...

And, unobserved by both of them, the three lights hovering above Newton's cabin blink away as quickly as they'd come.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 4

Will

Cult girl attends her grandmother's funeral and is approached with a highly unorthodox last will and testament.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation and abuse, verbal abuse, death, slight emetophobia, body-shaming, ED mention, pregnancy and family planning

There was no use recounting anything from the leading up to the funeral. You spent that first night wine-drunk, munching on foie gras, watching Arrested Development and diagnosing each character to the best of your psychological abilities. You remembered cry-laughing at the same jokes you had memorized, and reminiscing on all the insane shit your own personal Lucille Bluth pulled on you. That was the highlight of the week. It was all downhill from there.

Firstly, you were sick. That Sunday, you wrote it off as a hangover. Then, the hangover returned with a vengeance, just to add salt to the already open wound of having to pretend to mourn your abusive grandmother. At least the physical pain would give your acting an air of sincerity, you thought.

Hannibal dressed in a solid black tux: it was almost uncanny to see him outside of any of his normal checkered suits. You selected a plain black dress and a strand of pearls.

The funeral was to be held at the same country club Anna’s wedding was held. Your grandmother was like a pharaoh, insisting that the empire she built know that even in death, she reigned supreme. The country club was her pyramid.

Anna asked if you wanted to say a few words. As much as you wanted to get up and tell all her country club friends about the time she reported you as an abducted child at age twenty-two when you refused to leave your boyfriend and move back in with her, you knew that it wasn’t in good taste. You racked your brain for any story that could be considered remotely funeral-appropriate, but none came to mind.

You spent the entire funeral trying not to roll your eyes too obviously at the stories of abuse her country club friends somehow remembered fondly. Your soul just left your body throughout the entire process and you were unsure if it would ever return.

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. Then, it did.

The beginning of the end was when your grandmother’s estate lawyer pulled you and Anna aside to conduct the reading of the will. He showed you to a side room, then excused himself before closing the door behind him.

“Hello, [F/N].” Liam greeted, trying to cut through the awkward silence that came with first seeing each other after four straight years. “I’m very sorry about your gran. She was a great woman.”

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.”

“No she doesn’t.” Anna muttered. “And it’s Liam.”

“I don’t mind ‘Lee’.” Liam contested. “My mum called me Lee. I actually quite like it.”

Anna was in one of her ‘I’m so upset, please ask me why’ moods. She sat on one of the heavy armchairs with her legs crossed and eyes to the wall. You weren’t going to bite.

Liam wasn’t so cautious. “Princess, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She pouted, not even dignifying her husband with a look. “I just think it’s interesting that I put the funeral together all by myself and someone couldn’t even be bothered to speak.”

You shot Liam a look that said ‘way to go, jackass’.

“Yeah,” You said, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “That must suck.”

Anna glared at you. “You really have nothing to say? Really?”

You tensed up. “Let’s see, which charming anecdote would you have me tell? How about that time when she made you wear a fat suit for an hour after you complained about how the low-carb ice cream tasted like chemicals?”

Liam looked in shock at his wife. “Did she really?”

“Once.” Anna confessed, holding up one finger.

You turned to Liam, as if you were sharing some hot gossip. “That was all it took to give her an eating disorder when she was thirteen.”

Hannibal was just a fly on the wall. Anna noticed his lack of reaction.

“And I bet Hannibal knows all about this, huh?” Anna said, throwing her hand in his direction. “Because he just needs to hear all of our private family business, right?”

You stood up from your seat. “First of all, I take offense at the implication that my fiancée isn’t family.”

An evil smile spread on Anna’s face. “But he wasn’t always your fiancé, was he, [F/N]?”

“Holy shit, you cracked the code.” You said, flatly. “There was a point in time when Hannibal and I weren’t an item. Real shocker, that one.”

“You know what I mean.” She sneered, then approached Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, is it true that before you and [F/N] became romantically involved, you were her therapist?”

Liam looked scandalized. Hannibal was just as put-together as always.

“That is true.” He said, feeling no shame whatsoever.

Anna turned back to you. “Now don’t you think that’s just a smidge unethical? For a therapist to date their much younger patient?”

You narrowed your eyes. You carried yourself with the lightness of a woman who finally had the moral high ground. “So you want to talk about what’s ethical, huh? I suppose that means you’ve told Liam about pineapple.”

All the blood drained from her face. You crossed your arms and held your head up a little higher.

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned.

“Look, could we just pretend to be a normal, functioning family for ten minutes?” Anna pleaded, as if there were anyone other than herself to blame for provoking an argument.

“That’s on you two.” Liam, rightfully, pointed out. He gestured to himself and then to Hannibal. “Neither of us have said anything.”

The estate lawyer must have gotten his juris doctorate alongside a master's in impeccable fucking timing, because that was when he decided to make his entrance.

"I'm sorry for the wait, everyone." He announced. "And I'm sorry for having to pull you aside in your hour of mourning. Usually the last will and testament is handled through email to the beneficiaries, but your grandmother was quite adamant it be approached this way."

"That definitely sounds like her." You said, exchanging glances with Hannibal. You'd talked about this for what felt like hours the week prior. She was going to pull some last-minute bullshit to humiliate you from beyond the grave. Give all the inheritance to Anna and leave a snide comment about you in a legal document. You knew it was coming. All you could hope was for it to be quick.

The lawyer pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "She specifically asked for her two living grandchildren and their significant others to be present."

"Did she say it like that?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Or was it more like, 'Anna and her husband, and [F/N] and her therapist'?"

"Mrs. Young," Hannibal said, taking your hand. "Until you tell your husband about pineapple, you aren't allowed to judge us."

Anna glared at you. "What the hell? He knows, too?!"

"Yeah." You answered. "I tell him everything."

"Okay, who or what is pineapple?" Liam interjected. "And why do I get the feeling I'm the only one not in the know, here?"

"That's cause you are." You confirmed. "And you have your lovely wife to thank for that."

"Everyone!" The lawyer called out. Clearly, he'd seen his share of dysfunctional families. "Please, let me just read the will and you can continue arguing afterwards."

"Y'know what? Fair enough." You said, crossing your legs. "Let's rip off this band-aid, shall we?"

The lawyer opened the envelope and produced a single page. He cleared his throat.

"I, Beatrice [L/N], being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions-" He began reading the long first sentence. "Including but not limited to, a collective sum of $45 million, the family home and my shares of the country club, to the first of my granddaughters to give birth."

You expected nothing. You expected something. But you never could have expected this.

"Can you please read that last part again?" You asked, unsure if what you heard was the result of a stroke.

"The entire inheritance goes to the first one of you to have a baby." The lawyer clarified, trying to make it sound like a reasonable arrangement.

"That makes sense." Anna said, nodding.

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "How in the fuck on fire does that make sense to you?"

"Well, the money would be going to a good cause." She rationalized. "To raise the baby, right?"

You shook your head. "No, this is insane. Grandma has always had this weird obsession with bloodlines, and now she's trying to incentivize us to carry it out."

"What happens if neither of us can, y'know?" Anna asked.

The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose. "If neither granddaughter is willing to produce a child, the entire inheritance will go to the Eagle Forum, so my ungrateful grandchildren can learn about family values."

"She hated the Eagle Forum!" Anna objected. "She wouldn't dare."

"She absolutely would." You pressed your fingers into your forehead. "That's upper-class white moderates for you. And she doesn't have to be around to see when they name a fucking wing after her."

"The Beatrice [L/N] center for denying women bodily autonomy." Hannibal said. "It's quite fitting."

"[F/N], we can't let that happen." Anna pleaded. "We can't let Eagle Forum get a penny of that money."

"Why the hell not?" You said. Though on principle, you agreed, you knew this was just another one of your grandmother's power grabs. At the end of the day, she chose to leave her money to the Eagle Forum. And it would be her name on that check, not yours.

"Oh my god, you actually hate babies more than you hate conservatives." Anna stood with her mouth agape.

"Don't put words in my mouth." You snapped. "I don't hate babies. I hate grandma for trying to threaten me into having one. I hate grandma for pinning us against each other and making sure it stays that way."

"What do you have against giving me a little niece or nephew, huh?" Anna folded her arms.

"I'm fucking done." You said, throwing up your hands. "This will be the last you ever see of me."

Of course, that's what you said the last time.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #more cult girl #cult girl #cult girl 2 #tw pregnancy #tw emotional abuse #tw death #tw conservatives

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Note

First of all, Happy Birthday Month!!! Many happy returns!! I have been reading fanfiction for e very long time, but this is the 1st time I have ever submitted a prompt. I kinda think Stuckony would be great but I am down with Winteriron or Stony, wherever the prompt takes you. You're amazing so I know it's gonna be fantastic! Thanks in advance!💜💜💜 “Is that your robot?” “That’s a rude way to talk about my husband.”

This was such a fun prompt to write, thanks for sending it in! And thank you for the birthday wishes!

As always, everything I write is also on ao3

Something taps against Bucky’s foot. At first, he ignores it, figuring someone just bumped into him, but then it happens again and then for a third time. He looks down, fully expecting to see a small child, only to see a small gold and blue robot run into his shoe, back up, and then run right into it again. It looks a little like an atom with a central core and three rings spinning around it in multiple directions. He smiles at the oddly charming behavior and bends down to pick the robot up, wondering if it came from one of the many glittering exhibits he and Steve have walked past today or if it belongs to someone.

“Hey, Stevie,” he begins, thinking to share it with his husband, but when he looks around, Steve isn’t anywhere near him. Bucky sighs and turns in a circle, hoping to spot him somewhere in the packed crowd. Who knew the Stark Expo would draw so many people on a Tuesday in the middle of March? “Stevie, you’re too small to wander off like this.”

He feels a tug on the hem of his coat and then a small voice primly says, “Excuse me, Mister Sir, that’s mine.”

“Huh?” He looks down again, this time to see a young girl of about six or seven years holding onto his jacket. “Oh! Is this your robot?” he asks, crouching down to her level.

“That’s a rude way to talk about my husband,” she informs him, holding her hand out for the robot.

Bucky blinks at her. He’s heard about kids playing pretend with their toys but that’s usually things like Legos or dolls, right? Not a whirring, circular robot that doesn’t even have a face.

“Can I please have Jarvis back?” the girl asks, insistently tugging on his coat again.

“Oh, sure, sorry about that.” He passes it back to her and then looks around, hoping to spot the girl’s parents before she realizes she’s left them. He’s dealt with plenty of upset kids at the school he and Steve work at, so he’s more than capable of handling any meltdown she might have, but he’d like to stave it off if he can. Unfortunately, he doesn’t spot anyone frantically looking for a lost kid, so he’s just getting ready to resign himself to dealing with a crying kid when Steve appears from out of nowhere.

“Hey, Buck, sorry about that, got sidetracked by one of the exhibits. The person works with sand and sound to make art, it was really—” He stops short at the sight of the girl hugging her robot. “Bucky. You didn’t pick up another stray, did you?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asks, affronted. “I never—”

“No? So what’s Alpine then? Or Dodger? Or, for that matter, me?” Steve crouches down next to the girl and holds out his boney hand for her to shake. “Hey, kid, my name’s Steve. This is Bucky. What’s your name?”

She gives him a suspicious look, but must decide that he’s safe because she says after a moment, “Morgan.”

“Well, Miss Morgan, why don’t we see about finding your parents?” Steve offers. “It looks like they’ve gotten lost.”

Morgan turns one way and then the other, noticing for the first time that she’s alone. Her lower lip trembles, eyes welling up with big, fat tears. “I—”

Bucky, sensing an impending meltdown, quickly says, “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find them. We grown-ups are pretty good at getting lost. It’s up to brave kids like you to help us get found again.”

Morgan sniffs, but nods. “I’m here with Uncle Happy,” she says, sliding her small hand into Bucky’s.

“Then let’s find Uncle Happy,” Steve says decisively. “Would you like me to hold your robot?”

She shakes her head, clutching the robot tighter to her. “You can’t take JARVIS,” she says. “He’s mine.”

“Okay,” Bucky says soothingly. “We won’t take him away.” He shares a quick glance with Steve. “Should we start at Lost and Found?”

“If I may, Sirs,” the robot suddenly says in a cool British voice. Steve yelps, jumping away from it. Bucky startles, dropping Morgan’s hand.

Morgan giggles. “Don’t worry, that’s just Jarvis. He’s an artificial intelligence.” She pronounces the words carefully, like it’s something she’s been taught to say. She holds the robot up, who lights up with every word he says.

“The tracker in this device has been activated. There will be no need to move from this location. Sir will be here momentarily,” Jarvis tells them.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steve mutters, taking a closer look at the robot. “It talks.”

“I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System or—”

“JARVIS,” Bucky realizes. “It’s an acronym, not a name.”

“Quite so, though I was named for Edwin Jarvis, an old friend of Sir’s.”

“And Sir is…?”

JARVIS lights up like it’s going to talk again but before it says anything, they hear someone say loudly, “Morgan H. Stark!”

Morgan’s face brightens and she turns, running right into the arms of a slender man in a suit, closely followed by another larger man. “Daddy!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around the man, who catches her up in a tight hug.

“What have we said about running off?” the man asks, sounding worried. He has a familiar voice, Bucky thinks. He wonders where he’s heard it before.

“I didn’t run off,” Morgan protests. “JARVIS did and I had to get him.”

“You didn’t think to tell Happy where you were going?” The man gently brushes her hair out of her eyes before straightening up, setting Morgan on his hip.

“I didn’t have time! JARVIS was moving too fast.”

The man makes a dissenting noise. “Flaw in your logic.”

She shakes her head. “No flaw.”

“Yes flaw. JARVIS has a tracker. You, O’ Great and Powerful Maguna, do not.”

It’s adorable watching the two of them together, seeing the way the man softens the longer he holds Morgan and the way Morgan leans into him. And it doesn’t hurt that the man is wildly attractive too: all big brown eyes and curly hair that Bucky wants to feel between his fingers (he bets they’re as soft as they look). Bucky feels something stir in his heart that he hasn’t felt since the day he met Steve. He quickly glances at Steve, wondering if Steve feels the same way. Steve’s eyes could practically be cartoon hearts, he’s melting so obviously, and Bucky smiles to himself. Maybe, if they play their cards right…

“But I didn’t get lost,” Morgan protests and points at Bucky and Steve. “I had Mister Bucky and Mister Steve.”

Abruptly, all the warmth drains out of the man’s expression. He looks at Bucky and Steve coldly, mouth a thin, tight line. “Oh you did, did you?” He turns to the second man behind him. “Happy, could you take Morgan for a moment?”

“Daddy—” But Happy—who looks more like an Angry than a Happy—has already nodded and taken her from the man’s arms.

“You got it, boss.”

The man now stalks closer to Bucky and Steve. “Alright,” he says abruptly. “How much do I owe you?”

Steve’s expression goes blank. “I’m sorry?” he repeats, voice tense with hidden anger.

“What do you want for this?” the man says. “Finder’s fee, something to keep you quiet, what do you want?”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are—” Steve begins heatedly, right as Bucky realizes where he’s seen this man before.

“Stevie, stop,” he mutters, catching Steve’s arm before he can get too angry and take a swing at the guy. “That’s Tony Stark.”

“Huh?” Steve looks again and then his face clears. “Oh. This must happen a lot, huh?”

Stark glances between the two of them, looking confused now, rather than angry. That’s good; that’s something Bucky can work with.

“Look, we’re sorry about all this,” Bucky says apologetically. “But we’re really not trying to cause trouble. Morgan’s robot ran into my foot, that’s how we met. We didn’t even know who she was until you got here. You don’t need to pay us off or anything.”

“Really,” Stark states suspiciously. “So I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and all the headlines are saying that I can’t take care of my kid?”

“We’re both teachers,” Steve says, gesturing at him and Bucky. “We know kids wander off all the time. They’re more slippery than a bar of soap in the shower. You’re not going to hear anything from us.”

Stark slumps and runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired all of a sudden, not that Bucky can blame him now that he knows this entire Expo is being run by him. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “You just can’t be too careful in this line of business.”

“I can imagine,” Bucky says soothingly. “If it would help, we’d be happy to sign an NDA.”

“Pepper would probably kill me if I didn’t ask you to,” Stark admits. He sighs. “Great, first time I contact her since the divorce and it’s about my fuckup.”

“You’re not a fuckup,” Steve insists. “Seriously, this happens all the time. Just last week, I had a kid decide he wanted to keep looking at the snails in the Botanical Gardens we took the kids to while the rest of us went to lunch. Took me an hour to find him.”

Tony gives him a hopeful look. “Really?”

“Really. It’s okay. You’re not a bad parent.”

“I’ve just—I’m supposed to be presenting in—” He checks his watch.

Happy shouts, “Five minutes ago, boss.”

“It’s my presentation, I think they can wait for me if I’m running late. Morgan didn’t want to wait while I was prepping so I asked Happy to take her to see some of the exhibits. I didn’t think she’d wander away.”

“Well, hey, we’d hate to make you any later,” Bucky says. “So we’ll let you—”

Morgan pipes up, “Daddy, can’t Mister Bucky and Mister Steve come too?”

“Well—”

“They were so nice,” she says, making her eyes big and wide. “And I think we should be nice and let them watch.”

Stark smiles helplessly at her. “You know what that is? That’s extortion.” He turns to Bucky and Steve again and shrugs. “Do you want to come? It’ll be backstage, so you won’t get to see as much as you would if you were watching from the front. But it’ll be fun, I’m presenting the new arc reactor. Oh—and please, call me Tony. We’re all friends here, no need to stand on formalities.”

Steve and Bucky have one of their silent conversations that always bothers their friends. “Are you sure?” Steve asks. “We wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Tony gives Bucky a very obvious onceover, followed by a look at Steve, just as obvious and just as hungry. “Oh yes,” he murmurs. “I’m sure.”

“Then we’d love to,” Bucky says, giving Tony a onceover of his own. He and Steve don’t often invite a third partner to their bed, but there’s just something about Tony.

“Great!” Tony chirps. His eyes go dark and heated as he adds, “And maybe afterwards, we can talk about a way to pay you back for helping Morgan out.”

“Tony, really, we don’t need anything,” Steve begins.

“Please,” Tony purrs. “I insist.”

#alle writes #alle answers #stuckony #if you like please consider reblogging #chellibean86

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

Text

pretending is a gateway drug // george weasley

Summary: George bribes the reader into being his fake girlfriend for forty-two days, you can imagine how that plays out.

Request: hey lovey! absolutely in love with your writing; it’s so beautiful and i just cannot get enough of it! if your requests are open (and you like the idea) could i ask for our beloved george x reader—i’ve recently been obsessed with fake dating tropes where they end up together in the end.. i don’t have anything specific in mind for the plot, i know whatever you come up with will be fabulous :D thanks a ton darling.. keep on writing, you have a gift, x

A/N: I love this trope so much and this was the sweetest compliment and I was beyond excited to start this – also I usually try to keep it gender neutral but it was a struggle with this so sorry about that :( also this is so long oh my god

Reader: female

Warnings: female reader, making out

You hadn’t heard George sneak up behind you, but being friends with the twins for as long as you had, you weren’t surprised easily.

“Y/N, I need a favour,” he said, leaning on the bookshelf you were rifling through. You didn’t turn to face him; you already knew it was George by his voice.

“No.”

You dragged your fingers across the spines of a few books before finding the book on Potions you were after, a disproportionately happy smile lifting your cheeks at the prospect.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

You huffed, running your tongue over your teeth before turning to him, tilting your head.

“Fine. What is it?”

You raised your eyebrow, leaning the book on your hip. He smiled slightly.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked at him, staring at his hopeful expression.

“No.”

And with that, you walked over to Madam Pince to sign out the book. George stayed a few feet behind you, not wanting to incur Madam Pince’s wrath as he had done countless times before. Fred and George were notorious in the library; once they’d made Pince so mad she banned them for a month before McGonagall convinced her they needed to use the library for their studies. A laughable idea.

“Thank you,” you said to the librarian. She shot George a deathly glare over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but enjoy his discomfort. She then directed it at you and you found yourself walking toward the exit very quickly.

“Come on, Y/N, please!” George begged, walking next to you back to the Gryffindor common room.

“No.”

“Please…”

“Nope.”

“What if I split the money with you?”

You stopped in your tracks, frowning and turning your head towards him.

“What money?”

You wanted to punch him for the cheerful grin that erupted on his face.

“I am so very glad you asked. Ron said that I couldn’t get a girlfriend if I tried, which is a bit rich, really, don’t you think?”

Something about your expression told him he should get to the point.

“Anyway, so, Ron made a bet with Fred that I couldn’t get a girlfriend before the Yule Ball.”

“So why not just get one of the Beauxbatons girls to date you? It��s like two months away.”

“Forty-two days, actually. And, I don’t actually want a girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face the window, the whole of Hogwarts in the view.

“There is a whole world of girls to make out with out there, Y/N. Now, why would I limit myself?”

You turned your head to face him, his face very close to yours from where he stood with his palms still sat on your shoulders. Your face felt warm all of a sudden.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiled, letting you go so you could turn around. “But will you help me?”

“Why me? Why not Angelina? Or Katie?”

“Fred’s got his eye on Angelina and I think Katie actually fancies me…” his expression turned from pensive to cocky in almost a second. “Can’t blame her really.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, your book perched in your hand.

“How much?”

“The bet’s four galleons.”

“Four?” you echoed, frowning. “Bloody hell, Ron must really think you’re undesirable.”

You smirked, tilted your head to the side. “Can’t blame him really.”

“Oi!” George huffed, pushing you to the side. You shoved him back, starting to walk again.

“I’ll do it for two galleons.”

“Two galleons! That’s bloody half!”

“Nice to see your years of Arithmancy has paid off.”

“That only leaves a galleon each for me and Fred.”

“Without me, it leaves nothing for you and Fred, because without me, you won’t win the bet.”

He stared at you for a moment, the only sound: your in-sync footsteps down the corridor.

“Fine.”

“When do we start then, boyfriend?” you asked, stopping directly outside the Fat Lady’s portrait and swivelling to face George with a smug grin, enjoying his annoyed reluctance far too much.

“Right now, girlfriend.”

And so, that’s how became George Weasley’s girlfriend in four minutes – no doubt a new record for him. When you walked inside, you rushed to sit down first, as you always did, and ended up on the opposite side of the sofa to Fred, your feet stretched out towards him and your back against the arm. As he always did, George lifted your feet with an eye roll and sat underneath them, resting them on his lap. The others all greeted you but nobody batted an eyelid.

But then George placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee and you felt your breath hitch at the contact. He seemed to notice your unease and turned to you, a silent question in his eyes as he began to rub his thumb up and down. You shot him a small smile, mainly for any audience you may have had, you told yourself, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt, though and that both scared and delighted you.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his voice loud as he looked at you. No one had really heard him yet, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him, he was relentless. His eyes were full of amusement and you could only imagine how much he’d enjoy this whole arrangement. “What is happening here?”

He pointed at George’s hand on your knee and for some reason, George had the good sense to look almost bashful at the attention. Some part of you didn’t want him to make it a big deal or obvious but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

“Bit saucy for you two, isn’t it?”

With a scowl, you lifted up the leg George’s hand wasn’t rested on and kicked Fred in the side, earning a grunt in response.

“Shut up, Fred,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourself. George laughed at his twin’s pained expression.

“Brilliant, love.” He said so easily it was almost natural. You froze at the pet-name but thankfully you could blame it on Ron’s outburst that had cut through the room.

“Is something going on with you two?” he asked suspiciously, looking between you and George accusingly.

“Get a grip,” Ginny insisted, “Y/N would never stoop that low.”

You smiled at her comment but you knew you’d have to do something pretty convincing to earn your two galleons.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” you said half-heartedly, drawing every eye listening to you. George’s hand squeezed your leg comfortingly, or maybe warningly. Hermione frowned, leaning forward.

“Are you dating George?”

You pursed your lips and leant into the back of the sofa, automatically towards George, a force of habit you weren’t aware of.

“Wow,” Harry said, rather observantly for him. You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking away from them. You knew all eyes were on you and so, you stopped and turned, eyebrows drawn down.

“You coming?”

George’s face lit up at your words and he stood up, grinning as he raced over to you. As you both walked towards the boys’ dorms, you could feel their stares on your back. George could too, it seemed, and as you started up the stairs, he rested a hand on your hip. You knew, at that point, that you were definitely getting paid after this.

You were two weeks in when you started slipping. You hadn’t forgotten that you were supposed to be dating, in fact, it seemed like you’d forgotten that you weren’t really. Something about George just felt so right and easy. He’d put his arm around your waist when you sat next to him or around your shoulder in the corridor and he’d kiss your hairline before he left and your cheek when you’d done something to be proud of. You spent more time with him to keep up appearances and whilst you knew you liked George - he was one of your best friends for a reason - you didn’t realise how much you liked his company. He made you laugh until you thought you’d throw up and smile so much your cheeks would ache. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t real but you didn’t suspect anything untoward about your feelings really – you were just close with your best friend, is all.

Ron, however, was immensely suspicious. After three weeks of the pretence, he stormed in to find you lying on the sofa with George, your head on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as you played with each other’s hands, talking about nothing. It wouldn’t have been an uncommon sight before your business deal but now everybody thought you were dating, there was something strangely intimate about it.

“I know you’re faking it,” Ron said, frowning and pointing his finger at you both. You snorted and George frowned, neither of you moving.

“Okay?” you said, not at all fazed. Maybe you’d gotten a little too used to it.

“I’ve never seen you kiss.”

You shot Ron a strange look before you felt George’s lips briefly pressed against the side of your head. Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

“I meant properly. I’ve never seen you kiss properly.”

Fred, who’d only just arrived, sat down on a chair opposite you with an amused smile.

“You’re a right little pervert. Aren’t you, Ronniekins?”

“Oh, piss off, Fred. You know I’m right!”

“Fine,” George said, shuffling a little bit and sitting you both up. He stood on the sofa, dragging you up with him. He ignored your confused expression, looking around the busy common room with a grin. “Ladies, gentlemen and Ron, this is my very real girlfriend and we are very really dating and I love her very much.”

You knew it wasn’t real and you were fine with that, you thought. You couldn’t ignore, though, the unsettling feeling in your stomach. You didn’t have time to think on it though because within seconds, George had grabbed your face in his large, warm hands and kissed you. You were understandably startled at first, completely unprepared and very much not convinced about how fake the whole thing was – it certainly didn’t feel fake when he bit softly at your bottom lip. There were multiple wolf whistles and hoots from the people around, mostly Fred, you suspected. You couldn’t focus on them as your hands shot to George’s chest in surprise, his jumper soft under your fingertips. He leant you back a little bit, one of his hands holding you close to him by the small of your back. It wasn’t until you felt lightheaded that he pulled away.

Slightly dazed, you looked up at him and he sent you a dazzling smile before he turned to Ron, who was as red as a tomato and swallowing gruffly.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. He all but slumped away, cursing under his breath.

George turned to you, a smile on his face, as everyone decided they had better things to do than stare at you and George making out. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared at him and for a moment, it all felt way too real; one hand on your back and the other cupping your jaw, you felt like he was still kissing you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe again. George opened his mouth to speak but Fred beat him to it. His face was a lot lower than yours were from his place on the floor, a ridiculously smug smile on his lips.

“Brilliant work, you two,” he said cheerily, staring at you for a fraction too long. “Truly dedicated to the cause.”

You felt sick at his words, but you nodded anyway.

“Thanks for going with me there, Y/N. We definitely sold that kiss.”

You nodded again, feeling empty. Nothing made you feel more hollow, though than when George’s hands left you.

“Ready to go give Filch a lunchtime he won’t regret?”

“Always,” George replied, beyond excited. He shot you a wink before disappearing with his brother through the portrait hole. You sat down on the sofa with a huff, your eyes sad and your heart tied to an anchor.

You avoided George the fourth week. Not enough to make anyone suspicious, but enough to make you feel less horrible about the whole situation. You weren’t ready to think about why it had been bothering you so much; you knew it was fake when you signed up for it and it wasn’t like you liked George or anything. Fortunately, a voice calling your name interrupted you before you could go down that rabbit hole. Unfortunately, the voice belonged to George and he was chasing after you, rushing past shorter students. You knew full well you couldn’t avoid him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you plastered a big smile on your face and turned to him, fully aware that noise carried on the moving staircases.

“Georgie,” you said happily, ignoring the gnawing feeling inside. “How’re you?”

You expected an equally fake response from him, but, as always, he surprised you. He grabbed the top of your arm lightly and pulled you into a deserted classroom, shutting the door behind you and dropping his hand.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes full of, what looked like, hurt. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was the same light and airy tone you’d used in the corridor and it clearly wasn’t sitting well with George.

“No, no,” he shook his head, his long red hair swishing with the movement. He did look very handsome- “None of that crap, I’m serious. Why’re you avoiding me?”

“Why?” you frowned. “Does someone suspect something?”

“What?” he looked visibly taken aback. “No, forget that. I want to know why my best friend is ignoring me.”

You swallowed, not really looking at him, but through him.

“It’s nothing, George.”

“It’s clearly not nothing-“

“George, give it a rest, please.”

He paused, noticing how upset you seemed. He went to brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek when you pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll make sure nobody questions anything, don’t worry,” you said before rushing around him, leaving the door open behind you.

George officially didn’t know what he was doing. It seemed like a great idea, at first. He needed a fake girlfriend, his best friend was a girl and Fred had agreed, he’d pushed him to ask you and it was going great, it was very convincing. Truth be told, he loved it. He loved making you laugh and he loved the casual touches and the affection. But then he kissed you, and something changed and now you wouldn’t even talk to him.

“Fred?” he asked, sitting on the floor of his dorm opposite his brother. “Do you think I’ve messed it all up with Y/N?”

“What?”

Fred, who rarely worried about anything in life, was concerned. As soon as Ron had teased George about getting a girlfriend, he’d orchestrated the whole thing to try and get the two of you together. He’d been right, as well; those few weeks you spent pretending only further convinced him that you were both perfect for each other. But now, sitting there, playing around with random inventions, he felt slightly guilty.

“She won’t talk to me,” he paused, “I think it’s this stupid bet.”

Fred had never seen George look so sad.

“After I kissed her, she’s just been acting so weird. I just-“ he paused again, sighing. “I just want my best friend back.”

Whilst Fred was, of course, very sympathetic to his brother’s plight, he’d stopped listening. George’s words only further solidified his belief – if you freaked out after kissing George, there was only one reason why and he would get it out of you, kicking and screaming.

“You fancy George,” he said the next day, following you into an empty corridor on your way to the library to return a book.

“Firstly, stop following me, you creepy sod. Secondly, of course, I do,” your voice grew an edge, “he’s my boyfriend.”

“Now we both know, dear Y/N, that that is not what I meant.”

You stopped walking and frowned at him; his smile only grew.

“See, I thought about why kissing him would freak you out so much and it just became so blindingly obvious. I mean you picked the less good-looking twin, but I can understand it-“

“Does he know?” you asked, and Fred’s amusement faded when he saw your panic.

“No, but I suggest you talk to him about it. It’s definitely in your best interest.”

With that, he strolled in the opposite direction, whislting with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving you with a big decision and also, probably, a library fine.

You didn’t decide to talk to George until dinner. You sat next to him the whole time, your arms touching, but never really interacting with each other and that only created a black hole in your chest. You couldn’t cope without George, as your best friend or the something more you knew you wanted him to be. After you’d both finished eating, you reached over and grabbed his hand, his head jolting towards you at the contact.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly, everyone else too concentrated on their food to hear you. He nodded and with a carefully calculated routine, you walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand. Your hands dropped as soon as you turned the corner and that alone made you feel sick.

“George-“

“Y/N-“

You both stopped, nervous, breathy laughter filling the corridor over the soft hum of people talking from the hall next door.

“You go first,” you insisted, desperate to avoid what you knew you had to do.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck with his hand before sighing. “This whole thing started off really nice, like really nice,” your eyebrows drew downwards at the soft pink flush of his cheeks.

“But now it’s weird and we’re weird and I- Y/N, I don’t want us to be weird. I don’t care about four stupid galleons; I care about my best friend-“

“George, I like you. Like, like like you ”

You had to curse yourself for your timing, but you just couldn’t hold it in, looking at his sweet expression as his mouth said such nice things.

“What?”

You screwed your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“I didn’t know I did until we were pretending and then there was all the touching and the talking and it just felt so right and then you kissed me and I didn’t know what to do because it wasn’t real and all I wanted it to be was real and I didn’t know-“

His lips were on yours and his hands, cupping your jaw gently, pulled you into him. You barely registered it before he pulled away, a large smile on his face that only grew larger with your bewildered expression.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, wetting his lips as his thumb lightly brushed your cheekbone. You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“For real?”

He laughed.

“For real.”

You couldn’t help the slow smile that lifted your cheeks, unable to contain the happiness that flodded through you. Your whole body felt light and George’s smitten expression made your heart soar. His eyes twinkled and you knew that yours would be just as ecstatic.

“I thought you didn’t want to limit yourself to just one-“

Before you could finish your teasing remark, he was kissing you again and this time, it was even better; this time it was for real.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness

@decadentwastelandtrash - I’m having trouble tagging you I’m sorry!!

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

#george weasley #writing #imagine #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader

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from-seas-to-skies · 4 years ago

Text

The Teacher / Bakugou x Reader ♕︎

warnings: NSFW, teacher/student relationship, oral sex, spitting, sir kink, slut shaming, somewhat brat taming, age difference, unprotected sex

words: 5,772

(a/n): Bakugou is 30 in this; reader is younger (college age)

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

One, two, three, four… How long was it going to take until class ended again?

Looking up from your notebook, you stare up at the clock, the large, monotonous face seemingly glaring straight back at you. You don’t know how it happens, but time always moves so slow when it comes to your calculus class. Frankly, you’d rather ditch the class altogether, but if you wanted to graduate from college, you had to pass. Curse stupid curriculums and all that shit.

However, despite absolutely dreading having to stare at numbers for a solid hour and a half, there is a plus side to taking this dreaded class. In fact, it’s the very reason why you signed up for it in the first place. You’ve heard so many wonderful things about it, all from girls and guys alike, and you knew you had to see it up close and personal – rather, you had to see him.

Professor Bakugou.

Age thirty, drives a Land Rover, and, most importantly, single.

He’s about as dreamy as they come; a complete and utter Dreamboat Annie, absolutely huge in both height and stature, intelligent, and handsome. He’s only been a professor for a few years, but it’s been made apparent to the school that he’s worth it. Not only are his teaching methods and lectures incredible, but he’s turned out some of the highest grades your college has even seen. That itself is impress, and, combined with the hype of how hot he is, it’s no wonder people rush to take his classes.

So, when it came time for class schedules to come out, you were excited, needless to say. Despite having a general disliking to math in the first place, you figured this one guy could be what it takes to turn that idea around. Oh, but that was before you first laid your eyes on him.

Shit, you had heard that he was attractive – godly, even – but this? You weren’t expecting this. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon, and his sharp jawline could easily cut diamonds. It sounds cliché, that’s true, but you have no other way of putting it. Words did not do this man any justice.

At first, his constant yelling and crude demeanor were a total turn off. Professor Bakugou was essentially the teacher version of Gordon Ramsay, and you weren’t entirely sure if you liked that or not. However, as time continued, you actually grew accustomed to it. In fact, if he didn’t yell at least once during the class, you’d immediately figured he was having a bad day.

That’s when the thoughts began. Call it infatuation, a mindless crush, whatever, but you wanted Professor Bakugou. Your eyes soon began to watch his large hands flex while he wrote on the board rather than the content itself. You’d watch his forearms flex while he turned the page in his textbook, prominent veins inviting you for a better look. How you longed to touch him, to grab his sturdy shoulders or pull his wild hair. He always looked so good, clothes tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly.

You’d fantasize about the most random of scenarios, each of them usually ending up with him bending you over his desk at the front of the room. You liked colder days the best, especially since Professor Bakugou had the habit of wearing form-fitting sweaters that outlined his massive pecs or the swell of his arms. You wanted to make him feel better, to sit underneath the desk and suck him off while he taught the rest of the class. Those narrow hips had to be strong, and you’d be damned if you never got to experience their power at least once.

It’s almost as if Professor Bakugou had cast a spell over all of his students. Nearly all of them gushed about how great he was; and, if you were in the proper company, they exchanged fantasies or proclamations about how fucking gorgeous he was. You’d usually grow bitter at these types of conversations. It was a crush, for fuck’s sake. There was no need to get all pouty like some problematic schoolgirl.

Still, the thoughts wouldn’t go away, not when he taught, not when he yelled. His booming voice became a part of your wicked fantasies, wondering how it’d sound to hear him grunting your name or commanding you to spread his legs for him. Again and again, you told yourself that it was fine, that people develop crushes on their teachers all the time. It was only in the dead of night that you’d have your hand stuffed down your pants and mouth moaning his name into a pillow was when you regretted it. It was a phase, nothing more.

And yet, over two months into the semester, and these thoughts still won’t go away. The constant ticking of the clock brings you back down to Earth, your eyes focusing on the problems before you. Swallowing thickly, you loosen your hand, now just noticing how hard you’ve begun to clench your pencil. Your insides feel oddly warm, that pleasant, heavy feeling sitting behind your belly button. Dammit, you mentally curse, this is not the time to be getting distracted.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

If only class could end sooner.

“Right,” Professor Bakugou suddenly says from his desk, “this Friday, I’m holding a study session for the upcoming exam on Monday. There’s only going to be a limited number of seats available, so if you wanna join, here’s your chance.” With his words, he holds a blank sheet of notebook paper up, a rather bored expression on his face.

He must be tired, you think, unconsciously biting your bottom lip. But why?

Around you, students shuffle to the front of the class, waiting for a chance to scribble their names onto the paper. Some seem a bit more excited than others, obviously arching their backs or flipping their hair over their shoulders. With a scoff, you look back down to your work. Did they really think they could catch his attention like that? Yeah, so he doesn’t show off a ring on his finger, but it’s pretty likely that he has people throwing themselves at him all the time. Besides, Professor Bakugou is a strict guy; there’s no way he’d engage in a relationship with a student.

You really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. It’s pointless to pine after your teacher like that, especially with the risks that come along with getting involved with each other. Still, you can’t help but feel bitter. Professor Bakugou is a god that walks amongst men, so how could you not want somebody like him?

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed,” Professor Bakugou calls out. Dammit, you spaced out again. Maybe you should get that checked out?

With a sigh, you stuff your belongings into your backpack and draw to a stand. You wish it would be spring already; trudging through snow and ice is never fun, and the fact that your dorm is basically on the other side of campus makes it even more rough. Pulling your coat on and slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you make way towards the classroom door, completely unaware of a set of eyes watching your every move.

“Man, this is impossible,” your best friend, Ashido Mina, groans. “I’m going to bomb this exam for sure!” Sprawled out on her stomach, she squirms on the floor, her face scrunching with her displeasure.

You, on the other hand, sit cross-legged across from her. Notebooks and math textbooks surround the two of you, your laptop and calculator at the ready. Bags of chips and pretzels sit to the side, along with abandoned coffee cups and empty water bottles. Professor Bakugou’s exams were notorious for being hard, but at the same time, if you payed attention in class and studied, you’d succeed. The thing is, though, that neither you nor Mina are the best when it comes to math.

“I thought you went to his study session?” you ask, glancing up from your own notebook.

Flashing you a pout, Mina nervously runs a hand through her fluffy hair. “Well, yeah, but you know how it goes! A secluded area with Professor Bakugou! It’s like a dream come true! It was hard to focus when he’s leaning over your shoulder like that…”

Rolling your eyes, you puff in amusement. “Really? Mina, you know what will happen if you fail this test.”

“Yeah, yeah, but come on! You can’t blame me! You would’ve done the exact same thing!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes you would’ve!” Mina exclaims, pointing an accusing finger your way. “Don’t pretend like you don’t ogle Professor Bakugou during class! He’s one hell of a hunk, isn’t he? I never knew college professors could be so hot!” she gushes, a giggle following her words. “And that study session – oh my god, I nearly thought I was going to heart attack when he helped me solve this one problem. He’s so warm and he smells great!”

You cock an eyebrow at her. “You were smelling our teacher?”

At that, Mina blows a raspberry and waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not Kaminari, sweetheart. I have class. Besides, Professor Bakugou smells like caramel. Can you believe it? I wonder if he uses cologne or feminine soap.”

Caramel, eh? Now that’s something you can get behind.

“You want him to fuck you, right?”

Wait, what?

Narrowing your gaze at her, your brows knit closely together. “What kind of question is that?”

Mina rolls her eyes. “What, like you don’t think about it? Practically everyone on this campus has thought about it at some point or another? I mean, hello! He’s totally Daddy material. I’ve heard that he goes to the gym sometimes here on campus – turns out he’s huge.”

Huge. Of course this is what Mina chooses to focus on. You wish you had a spray bottle to squirt at her horny ass.

“And I don’t mean muscle wise,” Mina continues, a mischievous expression coming to her face. “I bet he tastes like candy.”

“Mina.”

“Why yes, Mr. Bakugou sir! I’ll gladly suck your fat cock for an A!”

“Mina.”

“His ass is really nice, too. I wouldn’t mind pegging him-“

“MINA.”

“What?”

You smack your forehead and groan as your hand trails down your face. “Are you going to study or not? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather graduate than work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life.”

Mina purses her lips at you in an excessive pout. “You’re such a fun sponge, holy shit. I think you need a good dicking down by Professor Bakugou. Maybe then you’d stop staring after him all the time during class.”

Your face heats up at her words, but there’s no way you’re owning up to that. Okay, so yeah, maybe getting fucked by him would be a dream come true, but you’re more realistic than that. “And you’re not concerned at all that he’s our teacher? You know, like he could lose his job and you could be expelled? That doesn’t bother you? At all?”

Mina shrugs. “Meh.”

“Woooow…. You really are shameless.”

“Hey, you win some, you lose some. If I could get that man to put a ring on my finger, then I’d be okay with it.”

“Yeah, because you definitely want to bring your math professor home. Uh huh, great one. Tell me how that goes.”

With a grunt, Mina rolls over and sits up. “Whatever, man. I’m hungry, so I’m going to go down to the dining hall. Wanna come with?”

Glancing at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand, you see that it’s only 5:15. True, you could get a bite to eat, but you’d rather stay back and finish a few more problems. “I think I’ll join up with you later,” you tell Mina.

She nods her head and offers you a small smile. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” Gathering up her things, she unceremoniously shoves them into her backpack and salutes you with a goodbye. After she pulls the door shut behind her, you turn back to the task at hand.

It shouldn’t be this hard to solve these last couple of problems, but your brain is really starting to feel the struggle. A dull ache is already forming between your eyeballs, and you truly wonder if you’re going to make it through this or not. Maybe you should take a break, or at least give your eyes a rest. Still, that little stubborn streak in you tells you to carry on. You only have a few more problems left, and you’re so close to finally finishing!

As you set to work, the digits on your alarm clock change as time drags on. Okay, so maybe you’re demanding too much of yourself. Your brain is absolutely fried, and your headache is spreading. Glancing back up at the clock, luminous green lines glare a 5:31. Jeez, it’s only been sixteen minutes since you last checked, yet it seems as though hours have passed. You really want to finish this study session, but the last problem is throwing you in for a loop.

You’ve already scoured your notes and the textbook for how to go about the problem, but your mind is drawing up with a blank. It has to be because you’re tired, right? It’s not that hard… Or is it?

“Dammit,” you mutter, sitting back and pressing your palms flat against the floor. Again, you look at the clock. Frankly, you don’t want to spend all night pouring over this, and you don’t want to skip dinner, either. You know for a fact that Mina will beat your ass for skipping out on food. “Screw it.”

Scrambling off the floor, you throw a thick coat on and slide on your sneakers. Professor Bakugou sometimes has the habit of frequenting his office during the weekends (or so you’ve heard), and you desperately need to know how to solve this problem. Chances are something similar will be on the exam, and you want to get as good of a grade as possible. Plus, if he is there…

You swallow thickly. Now is not the time to let Mina’s previous words get to you.

And so, with your notebook tucked underneath an arm, you take off.

It’s a damned shame that his office is practically on the other side of campus, but you figure it wouldn’t be too bad to get your body moving after spending so much time hunched over. Now that you think about, you could just email him, but you’re not sure how quick he’d respond. This is a dire moment. Okay, maybe not, but still. Maybe you want to see Professor Bakugou. Maybe.

You’re thankful when you finally enter the building, free of the flurries of snow and the seeping chill. Stomping your feet free from snow, you look around, creeped out yet fascinated by the silent, empty halls. You doubt very many people are here besides lingering staff and the janitors. One could only hope that Professor Bakugou is frequenting his office.

As you draw closer and closer to his office, your footsteps bounce off the walls, reminding you of how alone you are. There’s a fifty/fifty chance that he’s even going to be in his office, yet your heart pounds frantically in your chest. If he isn’t there, you’ll just simply turn around and stalk back to your dorm and hope for the best. If he is there, well, you’re not entirely sure what you should say.

He’s your teacher, dammit. It shouldn’t be this hard going up to him and asking him for help. It’s literally his job to help students out; nothing more, nothing less. Still, Mina’s words ring throughout your mind. It’s just a crush, you remind yourself. Stop getting so worked up about it.

There it is, just straight up ahead – Professor Bakugou’s office.

Like the other offices lining the hall, it’s made from a heavy wood, a frosted window place in the top half with Professor Bakugou’s name printed on it. A simple door like this shouldn’t intimidate you so much, but yet it does. All you have to do is knock on it, wait for a possible response, and then go from there. However, now that you’re in front of it, you somewhat hope he’s not there. Your palms are growing clammy and your throat feels fuzzy.

“Here goes nothing,” you tell yourself, reaching up and rapping on the door.

For a moment, nothing happens. Perhaps Lady Luck has decided to spare some mercy on you, after all. Releasing a pent-up breath you didn’t know you were even holding, you prepare to step back and walk away, but then a muffled come in sounds through the door.

Oh, shit.

You wince as your cowardice floods you with a renewed force. There’s no way you can just leave now, not if you want Professor Bakugou potentially chasing you down. Taking in a deep breath, you turn the brass knob and poke your head inside. “Uh, Professor Bakugou?”

Oh, shit.

There he is, sitting behind an oak desk, hunched down over a stack of papers. He holds up a single finger, a signal for you to give him a moment. Immediately, your eyes skim over his exposed forearms, skim over the tight black turtleneck that fits him like a glove. Rolled sleeves, watch on wrist, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, he’s just dripping with classy sexiness.

The steady tick tock, tick tock fills the otherwise silent room. It grates on your already wired nerves, mocks you for just standing there, waiting. You can’t help but glance at its face – 5:49. It’s already dark out, winter’s everlasting darkness sapping the Earth’s light. Stepping fully inside the room, you gently shut the door behind you, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

After another moment or so, he finally clicks his pen closed, tosses it onto the desk, and leans back in his chair. “Oi – what do you want?”

Removing your notebook from underneath your arm, you hold it out for him to take. “I was… I was wondering if you could explain how to work out this problem?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Professor Bakugou sits upright and glances at what you’ve written. “We discussed this during the study session on Friday.” His eyes dart up to yours. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

Is he singling you out right now? It feels like he’s singling you out right now. But wait, doesn’t that also mean that he noticed you not being there? He’s just saying that to say it, right? …Right?

“There was a lot on my mind,” you say softly.

Professor Bakugou sighs. “Alright, come here.” Maybe it’s the gruffness of his voice, but the simple command nearly has you whimpering on the spot. Jesus, you need to get your act together!

“Of course, sir,” you reply, the title subconsciously rolling off your tongue. Skirting around the desk, you come to his side, unaware of him shifting in his seat.

“It’s really not that hard if you put your damned brain to use,” he grunts, picking his pen back up. You notice how the tendons in his hand flex with the subtle movement; actually, now that you’re up close in personal, you can clearly see the veins racing up his forearms, the sheen of blond hairs.

Warmth seems to radiate off of him, just like how Mina said. You wonder if he gets hot easily, or if that’s just the way he is. Either way, you shimmy the slightest bit closer to him, eager to ward off the chill that still clings to you from the outside. He goes into great detail about how to go through each step surrounding the problem; you lean over his shoulder as he goes through the steps, the heat emanating from his skin drawing you in more and more. With each breath, the scent of caramel floods your senses. You’re almost half tempted to press your nose to his nape and get a better smell, but that’d just be creepy. Plus, even if you did that, Professor Bakugou could probably pick you up and literally throw you out of his office.

Still, despite knowing the risk, your mind takes off, just like it usually does whenever you’re in his presence. It would just be so easy to squeeze his thick arms, to run your fingers through his thick blonde hair. Maybe you could push the collar of his turtleneck down, expose his neck and bite the pulse. It’s almost ridiculous just how big he is, how easily he could overpower you. A familiar warmth floods your system, encasing your insides and clutching onto your heart. This is bad – very, very bad.

“Oi, what the hell are you staring at?” Professor Bakugou barks.

Snapping yourself back to attention, you notice him staring at you, his glasses now off his handsome face. If possible, he’s even more attractive up close; thick lashes, full lips, a slight gleam in his eyes that demand power and control. He almost looks entirely different like this, face lax instead of fixed with a scowl. Good lord, you really are whipped for him.

“Oh, um, sorry,” you ramble, eyes going wide. “It’s just that your hair looks really… fluffy…?”

“…Hah?”

You quickly avert your eyes. “Nevermind…”

“You know,” Professor Bakugou starts, voice low, “you stare at me a lot during class, too. You’re not very subtle.”

You wince at his words. “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and tosses down his pen. “You’re not majoring in theatre, are you? Because you suck at acting.” He flashes you a cocky smirk when you look back to him. “Just admit it – you like what you see, don’t ya? Can’t say I blame you.”

Okay, wow, cocky much. Yeah, sure, he’s an absolute babe, but wouldn’t you think he’d be a bit more… modest?

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Didn’t know my math professor thought so highly of himself.”

“Tch. Looks like you got a damn mouth on you, after all. Well, if you’re done undressing me with your eyes, do you want to learn how to do this problem or not? I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll let it slide just this once since I like you.”

Wait, wait, hold up. Did he just say he likes you?

“You’re a good student,” Professor Bakugou continues. “Even if you do focus on me more than my lecture.”

Is this how the conversation was supposed to play out? Because damn you’re nearly shaking, and you still have your coat on. He knows too much, dammit. He’s known this entire time and he’s playing you.

“And yet you could’ve easily told me to stop,” you shoot right back, sick of being prosecuted like this. Sure, it might be a bad idea to pick a fight with a teacher, but this is outside of classroom hours; and, frankly, he can kiss your ass. Crude demeanor or not, you’re not about to let this man push you around.

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

No. There’s no way he just said that. This big-headed narcissist is relishing in this, isn’t he? Bastard.

“Hate to break it to you, Professor, but almost everyone stares at you like that,” you tell him. You realize you just admitted it to the accusation, but there’s no point in defending it anymore.

“Like I give a shit about the others? Really? You’re gonna talk about them?” He scoffs his amusement and leans back in his chair, thick arms crossing over his chest. “Did you come here to ask me questions about the exam or did you just want to be with me all by yourself?”

You hesitate. Is that really the reason you came here tonight? The whole way here you debated this yourself, Mina’s words circling around your head. No, you’re smarter than this. It’s a bad idea to get involved with a teacher – it’s wrong.

“I’m not going to lie or deny the truth,” Professor Bakugou continues, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically low pitch. “I’m also not stupid. You’re just as scared as me, aren’t you? Of the repercussions.”

Your mouth falls agape. What is he going on about…?

Slowly, Professor Bakugou sits back up, his face getting dangerously close to yours. Hot breath fans over the bottom half of your face. His eyes are heavily lidded, his lashes kissing his cheeks. “I’m not going to force anything on you,” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh my god.

Unable to resist the close proximity anymore, you shoot forward, your hands landing on the arms of the chair; Professor Bakugou’s lips are softer than you anticipated, but in no way is he gentle. Right away he’s clutching the back of your neck, dragging you forward so you’re settled on his lap. The arms of the chair pinch into your thighs at the tight fit, but you could care less. You’re on Professor Bakugou’s lap, you have his tongue in your mouth, his hands landing on your ass and kneading the flesh.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, his hands slipping under your shirt and gliding over your lower back. You arch into his touch, a breathless moan slipping past your lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you pant.

“I know.”

Fuck, it’s all so good, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth and hands unbuttoning your jeans. A startled noise erupts from your throat as a large hand slides into the front of your pants, cupping your crotch. You buck into his touch, all sense dissipating from your thoughts as you fervently grind into his heated palm. There’s a clutter of paper and office supplies as they hit the floor. Before you know it, you’re rising from the chair, your ass landing on the wooden desk instead.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Professor Bakugou grits. Your ass is barely on the desk by the time he’s done dragging you forward, your jeans aggressively getting yanked off, your underwear following suit. Your thighs instinctively snap shut at the cold air making contact with your bared skin, but strong hands pry them apart, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “I wanna make you cum with my tongue.”

“Wai- Ah! Fuck!” you cry out, your fingers clutching onto the edge of the desk as his head ducks down, his mouth latching onto your sex. Until now, you weren’t even aware that you were dripping with arousal. Sinful noises spill from between your legs as Professor Bakugou fucks you with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive parts.

“God, you’re such a slut.”

Smack.

You cry out as he brings a hand down on the innermost part of your thigh; your nerves quake, your blood pumps wildly through your veins. Again, he slaps your thigh, a growl tearing itself from his chest as he looks up, his eyes catching yours.

“Say it.”

Smack.

“I – I’m a slut,” you babble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Smack.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m a slut!” you exclaim, voice cracking.

“I expect you to refer to me properly,” he says darkly, his pupils dilating to the point where you could barely see his irises. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

A single smirk is thrown your way before his mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. His moves are quick, sensual. It’s clear he’s experienced, and you don’t blame him. Just look at him for Christ’s sake. The man is basically sex on legs, all nicely wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater and a simple pair of slacks. The pleasure only heightens as his fingers come into play, prodding at your hole; the tips just barely push past the muscle, leaving you moaning even louder and clutching harder on the desk. Your fingernails scratch the surface, the lacquer coming off.

“Tasty little brat, aren’t ya?” he drawls. Your entire body jolts as he spits on your sex. “I could get used to doing this.”

“Please, sir,” you plead, desperation filling your voice. You want his mouth back on you. You want to cum. “Please, it feels so good…”

Professor Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Shit, you’re even obedient. How nice.” He redoubles his efforts, then, wet noises filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

“Shit, shit, oh my god,” you babble, your body tensing. Still, his tongue digs in just right and there goes your sanity, flying out the window as you cum.

A deep chuckle fills your ears as Professor Bakugou sucks it down; drawing away, he flashes you his tongue, your arousal coating his tongue before he makes a show of swallowing the last bit of it. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he draws to a stand. The tent in his slacks is obvious, the front of it darker than the rest. Your insides squeeze around nothing, the idea of making him get like that making you feel hotter than before.

You’re hypnotized as he pulls his hands away. His movements are slow and methodical, the clink of his belt echoing throughout the room. Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip as he leisurely undoes his belt and slacks. Blood rushes through your ears, your mind a complete mess. You feel dizzy with want, with the need to sink your teeth into the swell of his pectoral, to claw the plains of his back.

All the air is sucked from your lungs when he finally pulls his cock out, the head flushed a deep red. Your eyes trail over the prominent veins, the fat bead of precum pushing its way out the tip. Fuck, he’s huge, both in length and girth. Whoever told Mina that he was big wasn’t lying. Your legs subconsciously spread even wider, a silent plead for him to fill you up and fuck you raw.

“Tell me you want this,” he husks. He does the honor of unzipping your coat and slipping it off your shoulders before easing you onto your back. The cold from the wood permeates through your shirt, brings a new wave of goosebumps to your flesh.

“Only if you tell me the same thing,” you croak. “Do you fuck all of your students who walk in through that door?”

“No,” Professor Bakugou blatantly says, and you can tell he’s being earnest. “It’s wrong of me to think so, but I’ve been wanting to do something with you since I saw you. It sounds like some sappy bullshit, but it’s the truth. I was too much of a pussy to ask you out for a coffee.”

Something about hearing him confess his feelings to you sets your heart alight. A slight smile tugs at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Tch. And you’re a fucking brat.”

Hunching over you, a large hand plants itself by your head while the other guides his cock to your awaiting hole. A shaky breath passes through your mouth as he pushes himself in; the stretch burns, his thick cock filling you up in a way that you didn’t even know was possible.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes. “Look at you, sucking in my cock like that. What a good little slut. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I bet you touched yourself while thinking about this very moment, about me fucking you on my desk like this.” A surprised squeak bursts from your throat as he grabs your legs and throws him over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half. “Gotta fuck you nice and deep, right? Because that’s how a slut like you likes it.”

Like this, with your knees almost touching your ears, the tip of his cock hits your soft spot. A pathetic whimper comes from you as he grinds his cock into you, his eyes carefully watching your erotic expressions, figuring out what you like best.

Before long, he’s fucking into with vigor, his hips moving restlessly. His cock pounds into you mercilessly, the slap of skin against skin mixing with your cries. His mouth is at your throat, teeth skimming your jugular before he latches onto your thundering pulse. You helplessly claw at his shoulders, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his shirt. You’re so fucking full, your velvety walls clamping around his cock selfishly. A blend of curses and yes, fuck, you fucking slut fill your ears; he’s panting hard, a slight chuckle breaking through every once in a while.

“Fucking let everyone know who’s fucking you this good,” he grits. “Jesus, look at the mess you’re making…”

“Professor Bakugou!” you whine. “Your cock feels so good… Fuck, fuck, oh my god, yes-“

“Katsuki. My name is Katsuki.”

Katuski.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. It settles on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

It’s when you cum that you shout his name, your walls tightening around him harshly while your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. A load groan rumbles from the depths of his chest as he follows suit shortly after, his hips moving erratically as his cum splashes against your insides.

The both of you are sweating, panting messes by the time he finally pulls out. You whimper as you clench around nothing, the emptiness a bit too much to bear. Surprisingly, Professor Bakugou – no, Katsuki – is gentle as he cleans you up, his free hand rubbing your side. Swallowing your pride, you clear your throat.

His eyes flick up, land on yours. “What.”

“Do you…” You worry your bottom lip. “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

Katsuki snorts. “Wow, got a real fucking charmer here, don’t I? How about you come to my place instead and I make you a proper dinner. You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

As if on cue, your stomach growls. Well, you did deny Mina’s offer for dinner, after all. You smile nervously and give him a shrug.

Chest swelling (with pride, you assume), Katsuki flashes you a cocky smile. “I’m a damn good cook, brat. I’ll cook a meal that will have you weak in the knees.”

“Maybe… Maybe you could finally show me how to do that problem?” you offer.

He rolls his eyes. “Will you finally pay attention this time or will I have to pound it into your brain?”

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha smut #bnha smut #empress writes #tw age difference

309 notes · View notes

vivithefolle · 4 years ago

Note

I just wanna ask, and don’t get mad at me cause I’m genuinely curious, how do you stan Ron? Like, I like him, but he is definitely misogynistic (slut shaming Ginny, treating hermione like she owes him something and being mad that she kissed someone years before, always objectifying Fleur, and acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much). Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it, but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

how do you stan Ron?

Like this:

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM DID YOU SEE MY BABY OH MY GOD. WHEN HARRY’S ARM HAD GONE KABLOOIE BECAUSE OF LOCKHART AND HE. RON. HE WAS. HELPING HIM GET DRESSED???? OH MY GOD BABY???? HHHHNNNNGGGG. AND. AND. AND ALSO WHEN HE. OMG. WHEN HE WAS PUTTING FOOD ON HIS FRIENDS’ PLATES LIKE. MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT MOM FRIEND ALERT. AND THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS BLUSHING AND BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE SLIGHTEST PRAISE BUT ALSO HE’S SO DESPERATELY SEEKING IT BUT HE KNOWS HE CAN’T TAKE IT AND EEK EEK EEK THAT’S SO CUTE SOMEONE HOLD ME IT’S ADORABLE RONALD WEASLEY YOU ARE SO GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS CUTE!!!!

Ok and then.

he is definitely misogynistic

No. And here’s why.

slut shaming Ginny

Yes, that was wrong. And guess what, that’s also something he probably - scratch that, definitely - picked up from his mother. And also his brothers, recall how Fred and George too don’t like to see Ginny go around with boys. There’s also something to recall: Ron was there when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and learned later that it was because she had trusted an older guy. You seriously wouldn’t be paranoid about who your sister dates after that? It was wrong. Yeah. And he more than learned his lesson when Ginny clapped back by virgin-shaming him and basically told him that he was childish because he hadn’t have a relationship yet. So would that make Ginny sexist too? Or is it just for Ron?

treating hermione like she owes him something

..................... uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh... when? When the fuck did anything like that happen?

He made a prat of himself at the Yule Ball, that much is obvious. But he didn’t tell her anything like “you should be with me” or didn’t insinuate anything of the sort. He was a jealous bitch but kept attacking Krum, not Hermione.

If you mean in sixth year when he treated her with “icy, sneering indifference” for the course of two weeks, yeah that was bad but that’s not “treating her like she owes him something”, the fuck?

being mad that she kissed someone years before

Yeah. I know. And that was bad, ooooh you got me to admit Ron did bad stuff, that’s what you want to see, right? And I reckon he was also mad that she hid it from him, and that he had to learn it from his sister of all people. We see Ron handles what he considers betrayals terribly. I have some meta discussing the possibility that he has a form of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

always objectifying Fleur

Um... no, he doesn’t. He makes a stupid comment about her once in GOF then stops. Let’s also fucking remember that Fleur is a Veela, she literally makes guys stare at her as part of her powers!! I’m not blaming her because she’s literally born that way, but you can’t blame someone who is under magical compulsion either.

acting like girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much

So tell me why he was friends with Hermione then?

Because Hermione wasn’t Emma Watson the super hawt sexy model goddess. Hermione was Mrs Generic. Until this once at the Yule Ball when she got the pretty princess perfect Mary Sue makeover but then stopped because she had to remain ~relatable uwu~.

Again. Ron made stupid sexist comments. But it’s actively shown that he doesn’t follow up on them. If he did indeed live by the motto “girls who aren’t pretty aren’t worth much”, explain to me why he wasn’t simping and drooling all over Padma Patil who is explicitly stated to be one of the prettiest girls at school when she was his date? Why exactly did he ignore her and was a miserable twat the whole evening instead of basking in the joy of having snagging a girl that was “worth it”? Well surprise, it’s because HE ACTUALLY ISN’T LIKE THAT AND WHAT HE SAYS IS MAYBE SHIT HIS “COOL OLDER BROTHERS” SAY AND HE THINKS THAT BY EXTENSION IT WOULD MAKE HIM COOL TO REPEAT IT. MIMETISM, THAT'S BASIC FUCKING HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY FOR FUCKING TODDLERS MY FUCKING GOD.

Like, by DH I feel like he definitely has mostly grown out of it,

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

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

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

so. so why. so why wouldn’t you. use that. as a reason. to stan him.

like.

fuck all the “hurr durr ron weasley the boy who made it out of the friendzone!!!!” bullshit, let’s start going with “Ron Weasley, the Boy who became a Man, and not one of those 'uugghh im such an alpha male’ ones but one that’s got the balls to say ‘hey love, I’ve got an idea, what if you kept doing that job you love and feel passionate about while I support you and do the majority of the childcare while also working a smaller job on the side so we’re never short on money’“

Why you people gotta be “yeah I like Ron BUTT” when you know full-well this fucking awful fandom will rake him over hot coals over the slightest mistake he does - worse, will actively go out of their way to interpret his positive moments in the most negative way possible??? Fuck off with that bullshit. Ron dared to say bad stuff omygah big deal, he was forgiven for it all and you’re just all cowards looking to feel “pure” by telling yourself “oh yeah but he was problematic once uwu”. FUCK. THAT. NOISE.

but still 6/7 books he’s kinda unbearable IMO

And IMO he’s not, funny how that works

So.

I guess it’s impossible to stan Ron because he was problematic uwu.

Ok.

Then I hereby decree that it’s impossible to stan Hermione Granger because:

“I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up Divination now, don’t you, Hermione?” asked Parvati, smirking. [...] “Not really,” said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. “I’ve never really liked horses.” She turned a page of the newspaper, scanning its columns. “He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!” said Lavender, sounding shocked. “A gorgeous centaur . . .” sighed Parvati. “Either way, he’s still got four legs,” said Hermione coolly. “Any-way, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 27

wow casual use of a racial slur yay!!! A+

And it’s also forbidden to stan Harry Potter either since:

It was raining hard now, and she was nowhere to be seen. He simply did not understand what had happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine. “Women!” he muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with his hands in his pockets. “What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?” - Order of the Phoenix, ch 25

and

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!” “What’s happened to you?” asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare. “Oh, I’ve just escaped — I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,” she said. “Under the mistletoe,” she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. “Serves you right for coming with him,” he told her severely. “I thought he’d annoy Ron most,” said Hermione dispassionately. “I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —” “You considered Smith?” said Harry, revoked. - Half-Blood Prince

Victim-blaming! Nice Harry, nice. Always classy.

Ok, Ginny stanning is already cancelled because she virgin-shamed Ron, right, so who’s left, who’s left... ah yeah:

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” - Half-Blood Prince

Selling date rape drugs proudly ouh là là. Bye Fred.

"Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...” “...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...” “Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly, leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

Assuming that only girls use love potions, and only on boys. Men never rape in JKR’s world, only women do, you heard it from George Weasley here folks, I’m just passing on the message. Ah and I hope you’re also starting the Fred And George Hate Club given how he’s also slut-shaming Ginny.

“What’s this?” “Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher,” said Fred. “Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don’t change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?” “Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. “Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?” “I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!” “They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?” Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Ah, good on you for defending yourself, Ginny, but remember, Ginny stanning is prohibited because she’s been problematic in the past and is gonna be problematic in the future and that’s baaaaaaad. Careful kids, don’t get ideas. It’s problematic to like people who’ve done problematic things.

So I guess nobody can like anything or anyone now. Sorry guys. Liking things is evil, what if the thing you liked had, OR USED TO HAVE, *gasp* flaws, can’t take that risk, ohmygah.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #hp fandumb #hp fandom #harry potter #harry potter series #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #ginny weasley #hermione granger #problematic content

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