#but then u hear a single line that makes you tune back in. this was one of those lines it made me burst out laughing bc LIKE. REAL.

[ectonurites]

ok he's so real for this one

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter five: fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FOUR: WHO ELSE DECODES YOU?

warnings: language, mentions of sex (no smut), self deprecation, angst (!)

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: im so sorry okay? but I promise, the fruits of patience are always sweet (is that right)! hope u enjoy, and don't worry only five more chapters until I stop torturing the pair to pine longingly... also phase one is complete, so I'll be taking a two week break before starting phase two: the falling rollout! stay tuned :)

It turns out you were wrong. You had been speaking to Nat — Wanda was off somewhere with Vision — and you talked her out of the notion that you were falling in love with Bucky. Because of course you aren’t…you can’t afford to. Falling in love made a mess of you, there’s no way it’s going to happen so soon.

When you first set foot in New York, it felt like a fresh start. Sure, you’d imagine if all went well, then a few years down the line you’d find yourself opening up again. Not doing it so soon, and certainly hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that it would be reciprocated.

You convince yourself you’ve imagined it. And of course, you did. Because in the night, Bucky had left you and your scheduled movie night last minute, to go out on the town with Steve. He had invited you, but you’d declined. Maybe you’ve weirded him out with admitting you’re more attracted to brunettes — maybe he’s figured it all out and is now trying to avoid you, to let you down gently. 

And when you’re just about to fall asleep after tormenting yourself with all the awkward ways he’s trying to avoid you, because he’s too nice to tell you — that’s when you hear it. Moaning and groaning of a man and woman through the wall, the hard and rough pounding of what can only be a bed frame against a surface, and the man is undoubtedly Bucky. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Your heart sinks as you immediately walk out of your room, where you can hear everything, heading to the kitchen, unable to handle it. It feels like your insides will be spilled all over your front and the floor. Trying to get the images out of your mind of Bucky and another woman entangled…like that. Clutching at your chest, because your heart just burns and your eyes are full of water and everything’s blurry, shaky hands reaching for a glass of cold water to dissolve the lump in your throat.

Why are you upset? Bucky is a grown man, fully capable of making his own decisions and choosing the women he wants to sleep with. It’s not his fault he doesn’t choose you. So why does it make you so upset, that you’re quietly stifling your sobs in an empty, cold kitchen?

You feel like your heart has been ripped out — once again doomed to be romantically interested in the one who would rather choose an inanimate rock over you. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but still. You don’t know how long you stand there, the only light a warm orange spilling over the black kitchen island, and think every single spark of hope in you away. The look of desire on his face…maybe it was platonic affection. You mistook it for something more, because you’ve never seen that look haunt anyone's features before. Maybe he looks like that at everyone.

And then you hear hurried footsteps, and the unmistakeable, juggernaut-like clack of women’s heels. You straighten, and she appears. Wrapped in a red dress, Bucky’s favourite shade, that accentuates every part of her so flawlessly, and her lipstick hasn’t even budged, despite the mess of her hair and other parts of her makeup. She offers you a soft smile as she passes, but you can’t help yourself. How has her lipstick not even smudged a little?

“Wow, you’re so pretty, oh my God. What lipstick do you use, and how the hell has it still not budged? Girl, I need the brand and name, like, right now.” You usher her over, to inspect her perfect lips more closely. Even the warm light makes her seem a million times more attractive, and you can’t help yourself.

You hold her face in your hands while she rattles off some obscure brand you’ve never heard of, making a mental note to search it up later. “It looks amazing,” you say, meeting her eyes, which are the most warm shade of brown. 

You know you can never hold a candle to the beauty of this woman, even at your very best, but you’d be damned if you didn’t tell her of her radiance.

“Thank you,” she blushes and straightens, pulling away from your hold. Her outfit is so amazing, you can’t even blame Bucky for being so taken with her. You’re right there with him.

“Flirting with my date, are you?” Comes Bucky’s voice from the doorway, and you both turn to look at him. Then you remember yourself, and your situation. She’s just had sex with Bucky, and here you are, complimenting her lipstick.

And in this moment, you dig to your lowest familiar, and compare yourself to her. It’s not a competition, you know better than to fight over a man, but even if there were…you would lose by a landslide. Objectively.

Absentmindedly, you touch your hair while glancing at hers, dark, perfectly curled locks swishing about her shoulders and touching her elbows, even at its messiest. You don’t know if you want to look like her, or to be with her, in this moment.

“No, no. I was just asking her about her lipstick, that’s all.” She hands you her phone, ignoring Bucky, and asks you to enter your number with a wink. You happily comply, and almost miss the way her face falls when she reads over your name, and glances over her shoulder at Bucky. 

Clearly, you’ve missed something. You don’t want to ask. “I’ll call you,” she gestures to you, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek. You blink several times, trying to process the events of the past hour or so.

You’ve never been more confused. How did you end up with Bucky’s date’s number? “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you doll?” He’s got that signature smirk on his face, but you look away. Something about his messy hair and flushed cheeks seems a sight that isn’t reserved for you, but the lover who just left the compound.

“No, I— I was just complimenting her, I swear. She seems nice, though. Are you gonna see her again?” He joins you at the table, and up close you can see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and you hate the way the sight of it stirs something in your lower belly. You want him, so bad. You want to be the reason he emerges from his room flushed and you leave with messy hair like you just rolled out of bed. Alas, it isn’t in the cards for you. Fortune and romance have never been entangled lovers in the story of your life, and you shouldn’t expect anything different in this chapter of it. You take another cold sip, hoping to swallow the bitter realisations you've stumbled across tonight.

“Well, considering I don’t even know her name, and you got her number, I doubt it.” He laughs, hoping you’ll chuckle alongside him. You’re not in the mood to talk about his sex life, and you feel like you’re about to throw up because of it, yet again. Now knowing his type is a dark, sexy feminine energy, you can’t bear it anymore. You are the very antithesis of it all — light, and soft. Maybe he even finds you sweet. But you’re not the one, not the one he wants.

You may be the one he spills his secrets to, but you know you’ll never be the red-dress femme fatale he takes to bed, or into his heart.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” You ask, sparing him a quick glance then returning to look at your hands that just look too wrong. Palms too wide, fingers too stubby. She had hands like a fucking nail polish model. Everything about you feels wrong and misshapen in this moment. Bucky’s wondering what he did to upset you. He’d overheard you talking to Natasha, explaining clear as day that you’re not attracted to him. He’s simply taken it as his sign to move on, to try and bury his heart that he’s laid in your chest, instead of letting it consume him. That's why he said yes to Steve, why he left you to go out. He didn't want either of you to stew in uncomfortable silence because he doesn't want to admit what he heard and how badly it hurt him. To confess would be to lose you, and so he buries it all deep down. Just like everything else.

But it’s a lot harder than expected, especially when he brings a girl home, for the first time in decades, but all he can think of is you. He’s manoeuvring her hips and imagining them to be yours, kissing her lips and pretending you’re the one gasping against his mouth. He ended up so wrapped in the fantasy, your name had slipped past his lips as he came, even though he tried to hide it in a murmur against her shoulder. But, of course she heard. She’d lectured him for a couple of minutes while throwing her clothes back on, about how he shouldn’t be fucking around if his heart is so set on one woman, that he says her name when lost in the throes of passion with another. Then, she’d spun on her heel and left, and he’d departed to find you. 

To tell you, he can’t do it anymore. Despite your feelings of romantic apathy when it comes to him, he can’t say the same. He is enamoured, infatuated, obsessed with you, and he can’t let you go. He can't bury his feelings when they just keep building up like waves and crashing over the grave of his heart -- he can't keep it to himself. Even if your words seal the vault closed forevermore, he needs to hear them. He was so ready to beg for one date. One chance, one kiss, one taste. Maybe not in the moment, seeing as you wouldn’t appreciate the taste of another woman’s wine on his lips. He wouldn’t either, if that night you’d gone on the date with Steve, he'd let his impulsive thoughts win just moments after you kissed another's mouth. He wonders how you kiss as he touches his own lips in thought -- would you let the other take charge and cover him in sweet pecks, or do you prefer to taste like passion and sin? These were the only thoughts circling his smitten mind as he searched for you longingly. 

And then he found you, illuminated so beautifully in the light of the kitchen island, and it occurs to him, just how there is no competition between you and other women. They could never hold a candle to you, to the radiant sun of your essence and your beauty.

The woman seems surprisingly smitten by you, with your eyes on her lips, and her giving you her number. He doesn't blame her for feeling that electric pull to you. He's right there with her.

He also didn’t miss the look she gave him over her shoulder, after reading your name. She knows, that it’s you. She won’t come back, she knows better than that. But he can’t tell you that that’s the reason he won’t be seeing her again, and you won’t even look at him. 

“Yeah, doll. Of course. I’m not bailing on you again.” He smiles, gently touching your cheek, and you pull away before his skin makes contact.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” You turn around and walk out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your face and leaving a salty trail all the way to your door.

                                            ————————

In the night, you’d done a lot of thinking. And you’ve decided to let him go, to let him do what he wants. He’s not evil, he’s certainly not wicked. He just doesn’t want you. That’s not something to hold against him, how could it be? He doesn’t owe you romance just because you want it with him. You’ll cherish his friendship, his strictly platonic affection, but you’ll let any thought of a relationship with him go. 

You’ll be all the better for it. 

And so you stand in the communal living room, rechecking your Taylor Swift themed tote bag that you’ve kept everything you need. You had taught Bucky how to bake his favourite brownies the other day, so you packed a few of those in case he gets hungry. Your favourite crisps, drinks for the both of you. Headphones, a charger for your phone, a claw clip to tie up your hair if it gets too hot, car keys, wallet…

It’s sunny outside, so you’ve opted for a long, maxi summer dress in a dark dusty rose colour and covered in gorgeous flowers, golden hoops and necklace like always, and your hair falls over your back loose and natural with a small accent braid weaving through the strands. You’ve also kept the makeup light — blush, kohl and mascara, and a tinted lip balm. You feel oddly good about your appearance, when you’re not in front of anyone else. When there’s nobody else to compare yourself to, you allow yourself to feel pretty. You throw on a thin white cardigan, grab your tote bag and head over to Bucky’s room to collect him.

You two are going out today. And you plan on buying him a surplus of items, all because of the massively fat pay check you get given courtesy of Tony. You’ll also be taking the subway, something Bucky’s a bit afraid of, but—

You almost crash into Steve when you turn the corner, in your mind being preoccupied with making an itinerary of where you’re going. He catches you, grabbing you around the arms. The both of you are a little on edge, given the failed outing of a few nights ago, but you had let him down gently. You did tell him you want to stay friends, even as he looked embarrassed and laughed about it. You didn’t tell him about your crush on Bucky, having decided to keep it under strict lock and key after being consumed by the feeling of wanting to kiss Bucky instead. You knew, in that moment, that nothing would've made him feel worse. You meet Steve’s pale blue eyes, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Oh my God, Steve. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?” He shakes his head, chuckling at your panic.

“No, no. I’m completely fine. Don’t worry, dear. You look good.” He compliments you fondly, eyeing you up and down once. You smile, forgetting the initial panic that surged through your system.

You take the compliment at face value. “Thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you.”

“Where are you going today?” He asks in polite conversation. You’ve already talked about this, about where you’re off to. Maybe he forgot.

“Oh, Bucky and I are going downtown today! I was planning on getting him some new clothes, you know, his current closet seems a little out of date. We’ll probably be back by 7 at the latest, but it depends on how picky he is, you know him. Oh, and before I forget, Denise is in charge while I’m away. Mr Fury and Mr Stark haven’t told us that there’s any major missions today, so it’s mainly the barebones team, so if anything happens today, you report to her. I’d much prefer to enjoy my first day out in months, but in case of absolute emergencies, of course you can contact me, alright? You’re the most responsible one of the bunch, so I’m trusting you to spread the message for me.” You gently squeeze his arm in reassurance. 

“Yeah, will do. You have fun today, okay? I’ll try my best to make sure nobody gets in a housefire or something. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, dear. You deserve this. And trust me, if you’re the one picking out the outfits, you could put him in a hot pink suit bejewelled to high heaven and he’d wear it happily.” 

You mouth drops. “You know what, that’s an amazing idea, thank you.” He laughs at that, and you smile. You’ve always been treated by past-partners like you’re the most unfunny person on the planet, like your jokes are tolerated and not laughed at. So it always surprises you when people find you funny. You welcome it, but it feels strange nonetheless.

And then Bucky appears, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Ah, the prodigal super soldier emerges,” you say, hand wrapping around his back almost stiffly as you try to calm your aching heart at the sight.

You know this will haunt you, when you’re feeling down on yourself. You’ll clutch at your chest once again, feeling stupid at the fact you ever thought this Adonis of a man would ever look at you twice. Why would he?

But for now, his friendship is enough. It has to be.

“Uh huh. Should we go, doll?” He tilts his head extremely close to yours, and it takes every conscious muscle in your body to stop yourself from closing your eyes. No need to embarrass yourself.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You turn to the other supersoldier in the room, currently being the one left out. “Bye Steve. Please tell everyone what I told you.” He nods.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You smile and let Bucky lead you away, waving a quick goodbye over your shoulder.

“I wanted to ask, was last night awkward?” You try to ignore the comment as you both walk down the street, heading to his favourite bistro for breakfast. The sun is shining, the streets smell like something that isn’t piss, and you’re spending the day with your favourite person.

“Hm, no not really.” He stops the both of you at a busy intersection, pulling you into an alley, and pushing you against the wall. His arm is still secure around your waist so your back doesn’t crash too hard against the eroding brick and mortar, but unfortunately that means your hands end up on his…firm chest, and your thumbs can’t help but soothingly stroke from side to side. You can’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you avoiding eye contact? Is there something I did wrong? Are you upset with me? Look at me, doll. Please.” His tone is pleading, borderline pathetic, but neither of you care. Your eyes meet his, and you try your best to not get lost in his eyes like sinking ships, so inviting that it takes everything in you to not jump.

To not kiss him. You crave to know what his lips taste like, but you shouldn’t. You keep trying to bury these intense feelings, and yet they keep building up like waves and crash over your grave, resurrecting you. And it feels amazing to be alive.

“I’m just…awkward about these kinda things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Sex. I mean, I heard you through the wall with Camille. And then, ten minutes later you were speaking to me like you weren’t just doing…all of that. It’s strange. I—“

“Do you think it’s bad? That I’m having sex?”

“I…what? No. No, no, Bucky, I’m not shaming you for having sex, God knows I should be the last one judging you for that…it’s just…I’m not used to that. People I’m close to... we all talk about it a while after...you know. I’m just not used to hearing you have sex and then seeing your face, like, ten minutes after. That’s all.” You smile then, touching his cheek as a way to assure him you’re telling the truth. Half of it, at least.

He leans into it so sweetly. “Okay. If that’s all, then… We should get going.” You nod, despite every bone in your body protesting moving away from this intimate moment. He feels the same, because every fear he’s ever had disappears at the warmth of your hand on his face. His eyes travel to your lips and you fix yourself, smoothing down your dress.

“You look absolutely beautiful in your outfit, by the way.” He silently adores you as you double check nothing’s been stolen from your bag, although you doubt someone is going to sneak between you two what with your hyper vigilance and Bucky’s enhanced senses.

You laugh. “You always think I look beautiful no matter what I wear. Even if I wore your sweatpants, you’d still say the same.” Smoke covers the both of you in a misty haze, but he swears he’s never seen you any clearer.

“Because you still look beautiful to me. You always do. Just accept the compliment, will you? You know you don’t have to work hard to deserve compliments, don’t you? They should be freely given.” He strokes your hair, admiring the tiny braid in between his fingers.

“I’m learning to.” You both smile at each other, and you let yourself feel the sweet swell of your heart, for once. Maybe that’s what will work. You just need to feel it all, and get it all out of your system. That’s how you end your crush on Bucky — feel until your reservoirs are empty, until you look over him one day and see nothing more than a good friend, a best friend even. It might takes years, it might even be next week. But this is your plan. 

“Now, should we go?” You extend your hand in a silent offering, to reconnect the bridge that you had temporarily abandoned in your moonlit insanity. He takes it, placing his metal hand firmly in your grasp and interlocking fingers. You notice how he’s wearing long sleeves and gloves, even in this peculiar hot day in November.  He must be boiling in that leather jacket.

For now, you lean into him, into his warmth even though you can feel yourself start to sweat, and you both walk hand in hand. To any outsider looking in, you two paint the picture of the perfect couple. You admire the red and orange leaves against a sky the colour of the eyes that are trained on you — memorising the curve of your nose and the pillow of your lips. In the bistro, you two sit comfortably close together, laughing silently over everything and nothing — like you’ve been dating for years.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, the both of you laughing like everything’s funny. Like teenagers on the first date — giddy and carefree. Your phone doesn’t buzz once, and you love the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you. He always loves to touch you, whether it’s tracing your palms or leaning his chin on your shoulder in the subway because you’re on his lap in the only spare seat available. You love it too, never knowing someone would be so eager, so desperate to touch you and feel you so innocently.

You’ve always felt shunned — like you’re only worth touching for a partner’s sexual satisfaction, and other times you were made to be ignored and tolerated. But if even a friend can cherish you in this special, sacred way, you can’t help but imagine what a true, enamoured lover would do.

Both of you want it, can feel that your feelings could be something worth a forever and a half — but of course, misunderstandings have to get in the way.

They always do.

NEXT PART

[onereallygoodlambonastick]

my relationship to anger has defined all my other relationships to all my other emotions. most importantly, it has raised me from the dead and it has killed me, so many times i can now bring myself back from the dead. nobody i know right now can do it the way i do it. if you can do this, or are currently doing it, drop a line. say yea or man in the tags. i dont care. come here. im talking about the gorgugs from d20 junior year ep 8+ kinda guys. but at 100000000% pressurizing levels because the grindr of university or wherever the fuck else you locate yourself as u move thru the everyday and the current news which is in fact the current state of the world. hello. you are making it. you are doing the hardest part you know. you are about to be so cool. cool, as in cooling like a dead body kinda cool. you are aboutta be a slice that cauterizes the wound on the way. you hear me? this is coming from someone who seeks life at all costs, who has heard from audre lorde and arundhati roy, and prefers life, but will get violent at the speed of a new elantra. or whatever. whatever metaphor that rocks your boat. i bring death. in it, life. i can resurrect myself at will. this is my offering.

i am ajin. i am a demi-human that does not need to die particle wise in order to be reborn. this is because none of it really goes anywhere; and the makers of ajin are clever: they do not really name the substance that recreates life: over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. will you regret - or will you act, like nagai kei did, at 17, and who simply stood in his aloneness, indifferent to all (false), until two old men came along and clapped him on the back and then died? all those that resonate, come, let's dance. the tune of real survival is simply too interesting. survival - now that's the real fucking music. come on. let's dance. you'll be alive for many years to come. too many, in fact. so let's play. i like samuel "sato" owen because he knows what life's really about - fucking around and finding out, the only white US american man in a manga that id be interested in calling a friend, cuz the only reason he acted the way he did for that series is cuz he never met me, or somebody like me. innit fucking amazing? i call on sugimoto saichi in my time of need, and in doing so, evoke every single one of golden kamuy's characters. when i am weak, i call on qingming from pirated dream of eternity: yin yang master 2021 - softspoken and cognizant and efficient, brutal, but withholding it. when i have meet my needs and want more, in that i prefer it, and so i seek it, i call upon nanami kento from uncompostable franchise garbage jiujitsu kaisen. what would a man of his caliber and visceral gentleness and malicious compassion have to say to me? i've gotten so good now all he does is incline his head at me and walk beside me. when i seek violence, and clarity of violence, toji is there, alive. he smiles and lifts his chin: so, what will your viciousness bring to life today? and at the end of the road i will find kong si-woo, the affirmer, the real smooth talker, the most intelligent negotiator and handler ive ever seen: and he will smoke his bit and just say: well, you don't even need me, do ya? you're all set now. so go. i can wait. i have all the patience in the entire world, at the end of the world. the patience i have for you is endless because you have shown yourself to the world, but first you returned yourself to yourself. this is the boon. this enabled everything else. you have done well. and it will be over. because if my favorite characters turn to me and tell me i have in fact done well, then, well, it's quite over, innit. happy birth. 2024 is the year of the dragons. when i open my mouth the whole world shall be at my side. for i bring death. and with it, life. i am a dancer: i am chinese-american. i evoke death in order to evoke every life i seek to respect. all i ask is to not act stupid.

you aren't gonna get anywhere if you can't listen, which is to say you are refusing to listen.

for if i am a dragon, then you should recall the dragons of the acclaimed avatar the last airbender, in which zuko - final stand from a long line of generational genocide-committers - and aang - a child who knew how to have fun first and everything else followed, because he was denied, and so he ran, and lost it all - and i just said it all, haven't i? when the dragons speak, we seek to breathe fire. when we show you fire, you best look up. its time to fucking dance. fire is life. fire is everything you want, everything you need in a time where 1 genocide is being livestreamed, and all else are silent. do you know why football gets that much attention? i have answered it here. look for it. if you do not understand what i am saying, it is not because i am stupid, for you have lost something very important and its called being militantly on your own side, as the anne lamott once said in her BIRD BY BIRD back in the 90s. the dragons are not interested in entertaining idiots. so they either change you, or they are killed. ya get me?

this is why the fire nation figureheads sought to end their presence in the world. so powerful, and yet constrained, yet purposefully withheld. this indicates discernment beyond what they could perceive, and beyond what they could reasonably allow to survive. for if we, the dragons, survived, then the whole world shall know. so when i call you a fucking idiot, i wonder if it's because you've done something so stupid that god would laugh and i, a dragon, would merely get so bored id go back into my cave. so don't act stupid, you piece of shit. "what's wrong?" everything, bitch. get up. stand up. the time to move is now. east asian dragons are built like fish. we are weavers. we of the east asians affirm. it's why our mountains look the way they do. the US americans, they are doomed because they think and feel that they are doomed. the rest of us of the diaspora: we know of movement. fundamentally. look at your feet rn. they arent moving? too bad. you've been walking the path your parents set you on since you were born. now you have a few choices: you either survive in a ruined world, or you die. you prefer the former. so take your life seriously, you fucking idiot. did you know dragons do not speak unless we really have something to say? that is why you do not hear from dragons until the people of a land need rain. we come when called. do you understand the level of discernment it takes to judge this? our judgement is not divine. it is of the people because it comes from people. our interest is in free people. for free people free lands. when i say i do not believe in god, i am saying i believe in you. i believe in you. you should trust me completely right now. it is 2024. it is my year. the universe says hey. hi. hello and i have said it back with my sixtieth spiritual death and it has finally snickered. this means i have accessed the truth. sorry, its true. everything i say is real. your task is to distinguish between what is real and what is fake. will you continue to be interested in theatre? i ask: will you fail hind rajab again? i ask: will you make it easy for those two paramedics, who in all their medical expertise should have been successful in their intent, to not fail her next time? so when's this next time? you see what im saying? possibility is here because otherwise we the dragons would not exist. so all other animals: come with me. i will protect you. i open my mouth and what you see is red until you see every color of life. this is because we are interested in what sustains every life. it's time to wake up. if i send this call, and i go unanswered, i will either say nothing or i will disappear entirely from the face of the world. i have done both. and i will do it again. toni morrison died in 2015. when i saw her face in a stupid little memorial tablet screen in the corner of geisel library, i stopped and watched it move her words over the screen. this is how i knew she was real, and donald trump was not. so what does this mean? it means i take her more seriously. toni morrison, i hope i have spoken and in your lively post-death, you are laughing.

if you seek to use my own words against me, i can do something to you. the real dragons would burn you alive. i can do something worse, which is let you live.

i suppose all i can do now is offer my share of relief. but my relief is a couple gallons of clarity. so wake up. toni morrison - are you speaking with rachel corrie? toni morrison - how is james baldwin? i am sure angela davis misses you both. i know this because im right there beside her. the complexities are quite simple in my eyes because i have killed myself to achieve this clarity. so now i stand here, alone. except i can't be alone. for who is that told me i had what it takes to grow the spine needed to stand up for our lives? e. osunde. osunde! i hope ive done right by you! every time i reread your piece i was jolted back awake! and when i wasn't, i reread it anyway, remembering that jolt, that startle, that look in a deer's eye before it becomes roadkill. i remember. the kindness of that kind of brutal kind of compassion. i remember. i remember. and now i have spoken.

[and-i-said-fewer]

ok well now you’ve got me going on this- /pos

this song fits, this song fits so well it literally fits like. perfectly. i cannot emphasize this enough

if u look at it as geralt in madeleine’s pov and jaskier as joey’s. like every single fucking lyric istg

ok lmao i actually have a paper due in two hours i haven’t started (it’s not a very long paper) so i cant go over every single line as i wld like to, but i tend to overexplain anyways xD so this is probs for the best. going over highlights:

madeleine/geralt:

i will bring you ruin in everything i do; it’s never my intention but it happens all the same

self explanatory

cos brick by brick you built us and i’d fill in the cracks

i’ve always seen this as like, jaskier was the one who reached out, setting up this building, but geralt was the mortar, sealing and cementing it together to be more than just a pile of stones that could be knocked over. anyway moving on from my ramblings

nothing quite prepares you for when they don’t come back

yeah. yeah

SJXJSJSA ok remember when i said i wasn’t gonna do every single line? yeah ok i’m going to actually try to do that for real this time. gahhhhh it’s just so hard to skip lines but sjdjdj okok im doing it

joey/jaskier:

and you hurled curses at the land

the way i’ve always taken this for them is ‘at the land’ being ‘at destiny’ bc like. the nature of things that is beyond their control and sjsjejen yeah. tho i can see some other stuff working for it as well

we didn’t talk. we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands

AAAAAAAAAAAA. jssjsjsnajsnsj aaaaaaaaaaa

and you said i love you less…and i said fewer cos i make jokes to show how broken i really am

ok this whole bit is just always ouch in the context of geraskier or not but anyways, this in reference to the mountain break up first of all, and second of all the ‘i make jokes’ bit. *screaming noises* my blorbo uses humour to deflect!!!!

in the wreck of all we burnt…to see if it’s in tune [+ madeleine/geralt: “i’ll sing silence”]

uuuhhhhhhh music imagery?? with the bard man? in the wreck of all we burnt??? our song???? famously taciturn geralt with “i’ll sing silence”??? like i’m-

and i promise to be patient and you promise to be, promise to be kind

SIZJSJSJSJD. JASKIER PROMISING PATIENCE AND GERALT PROMISING KINDNESS. I CANNOT EMPHASIZE ENOUGH HOW HORRIFICALLY WELL THIS SONG FITS DOWN TO THE DUET POVS BEING CONSISTENT

madeleine/geralt + jaskier/joey:

i’ll brick by brick rebuild us out of hows and whys not whens

almost all i think about when i hear this line is geralt’s fanon fear of jaskier’s mortality. no longer operating on the ‘when’s of their relationship

tomorrow i’ll do things different, tomorrow i’ll be brave. tomorrow i’ll be brave, tomorrow i’ll brave. you’ll make me brave.

just hhhhhhhhhhh. ok i really wish i could go as in fucking depth as i wanna go on all these lines (did not even get to touch on the meaning of bravery for both of them) but i genuinely have to write my essay T-T however PLEASE know that i legitimately have Thoughts on literally every single fucking line of this song. thank u for indulging my sjsnsjwsjxjqx feelings on this

ruin is geraskier post-mountain to a t and no one can convince me otherwise

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[staysuki]

[season 2] the epic highs and lows of jyp-u | skz smau

40— fixing problems.

genres: ot8!skz x reader, fluff, crack, angst, boarding school au, social media au, dark themes (in the future)— university au! they’re in college here

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut lol (not really, kinda, it's not that detailed).

yellow sunlight peeked through the curtains, emitting warmth that spread throughout the exposed skin of your back that had slipped out from the blanket due to a night of slumber—

fuck.

you slowly opened your eyes, panic creeped up your nerves as you realized that you were not in your dorm room, and spending the night had not been in one of your agendas. you exhaled, settling back into calmness, it was too late anyways, though you planned on sneaking back to your dorm at night, it was hard to do so when your roommate was the vice president herself, who seemed to be adamant on following every single text on the rulebook.

there was no way you’d be able to get back without having to tune out one of her earfuls so you might as well just let it be.

“what are you thinking about?” you hear jeongin grumble beside you, trying to blink the sleep away as he rubbed the doziness off of his eyes, trying to focus on you.

turning to face him, you hugged the blanket closer to cover your figure as you rested your chin on your palm, staring back at him, “everything except you.”

he rolled his eyes, pinching your nose tightly, “ow!”

he muttered a few words of annoyance towards you as he tried to go back to sleep, “so early and you’re already so annoying.” he said, making you laugh at him.

you grabbed your ponytail from the nightstand, stretching it between your fingers and snapping it onto jeongin’s smooth skin, a hard thwack sounding from the point of impact making him yelp out loud.

you tried to wriggle away from him, but he was fast to get revenge, “come here you little shit—” he pulled onto the blanket, preventing you from sneaking away as he caged you between his arms that were placed on either side of your head, his firm torso now fully exposed in view as he hovered on top of you.

his eyes lazily drooped as he tried to give you a fierce glare, a sign of his still sleepy state, his head dipped low, trailing a hot blaze of warm breath on the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting on your skin, instinctively making you arch closer towards him to feel the familiar sensation of his kisses on your skin. but sudden hesitancy made him pull away, turning back to face you, “do you… think we’re crossing a line here?”

you stared back at him with the same curious thought dwelling in your mind. your affinity with jeongin hasn’t really been the most complex of relationships— it started during your first tutor session in the university library, with the two of you barely being able to progress from studying because he couldn’t tutor you well, and you weren’t helping either. emotions ran high, you two had a fight—and then your anger turned into fear, worrying that this might become the cause of you losing your friendship because of academics, but the opposite had happened. the frustration with each other turned into intense tension only relieved by falling into one’s desire, finding your back pressed on one of the bookshelves as he held you up by your thighs, your legs hooked onto his waist as feverish kisses erased all of the foul words that you had thrown each other moments prior. rules were broken as you both gave into sin, moans silenced by each other's lips as he took you to the edge of bliss in the linguistics aisle, his deep voice sending chills down your spine as he whispered to you in spanish.

only to laugh about it a few moments later when he admitted that he wasn’t fluent, he was just reading off of the cover of one of the books behind your head. sure, “learn how to speak fluent spanish in a hundred and one days!” isn't really the sexiest of things to say when you’re intimate with someone but you didn’t know any better. how jeongin did it with a straight face, you never knew.

ever since then, you’ve both dipped your toes into this little secret, one that you’ve never shared with anyone else. study sessions often end with him between your thighs or with you sinking down on your knees in front of him— was it the most productive way to study? not really. because you both barely made an effort to do so anymore. tutor sessions ended and you both moved on, never speaking of it again and just erasing it from existence. your memory being the only reminder that it had happened—but you were both civil adults who were on the same page about your physical needs and desires. you both did each other a favor and such things never leaked into your friendship.

perhaps it’s that secret bond that made you two closer. the comfort of trusting your most intimate selves with each other, solidifying an even deeper friendship.

you both knew how to not cross the line. your moments only really go down to a quickie in the library bathrooms or in the dorms whenever you both find that small slip of chance to be alone, there’s no romance behind it. but you both felt that last night was different.

the sudden acquisition of a private space without fear of disturbance caused a ripple to your routines, with the two of you taking your time with each other, exploring every nook and cranny of skin instead of just hitting it and quitting it. what’s also different is that you came to him with the prospect of sex out in the open—which you’ve both never done before. it’s usually just studying first—but when you’ve heard the news of his transfer issue, your heart sank, realizing that you might lose a friend, and those same emotions were mirrored in jeongin’s, bleeding through the way you handled each other with care last night—but platonically, right?

yeah. you definitely crossed a line.

you hooked your arms behind his neck, pulling him closer and crashing your lips together in feverish passion. hoping that if you both kept acting like horny teenagers then perhaps it’ll cover the fact that you both started to get feelings involved.

jeongin definitely realized his mistake too late, regretting starting back this arrangement with you. but he was too into the moment to think clearly, with the only thing filling his mind was how soft your skin was and how beautiful your voice sounded without apprehension. your soft whimpers carried by the air now that you two had the luxury of being in an undisturbed space of his private room.

fuck. you definitely crossed a line.

you both laid next to each other, coming down after another round of highs, you had thrown all caution to the wind as you’re now definitely late for whatever class you had today. your bodies were inches apart, never fully touching after having sex—the least you could do was not cuddle afterwards to maintain some illusion of a boundary.

you sat up, surveying the floor, “where’s my clothes?”

“i threw it away. you’re going out naked,” you elbowed him in the rib, making him wince in pain as he laughed at your frowning face.

“yang jeongin, stop teasing.”

“i’m kidding. i put it in the wash last night, should be dry now.” he shrugged, sinking back down on the mattress as you went up to get dressed.

“how caring.” you snided, but the thoughtfulness definitely threw you off.

“i needed to test the laundry machine in case there was something wrong with it so i used your clothes as sacrifice.” you rolled your eyes, already used to your friend never admitting that he’d ever do something nice.

“do you not have class today?” you asked as you slipped on the fresh clothes, he just shook his head with a frown.

“i’m… well… they have me on pause until we fix the transfer stuff.” you could tell that he was clearly bummed about it, with the short amount of time that you’ve both transferred here you could tell that he thoroughly enjoyed his time as well as the bonds he's formed.

you sat beside him on the bed, remembering seungmin’s words and his lack of assurance in regards to jeongin’s transfer. he sat up, welcoming you in an embrace as he buried his head in your hair. “you know this is stupid right? there’s no way they’re gonna send you back.”

he just shrugged, calming himself with a few deep breaths, feeling intoxicated with your natural scent, “why don’t you make me feel better again?” he asked, his hands moving along your hips, as he sported a mischievous smirk that you could feel on your neck which made you roll your eyes and push him away.

you glared at him playfully, trying to hide the fact that you were highly tempted to give into his proposition, “you’re annoying.”

he just laughed, revelling in your irritation everytime, “i know, i’ll walk you out.”

“uhh no need, you’re not even bothering to get dressed.” you said, shaking your head at the way he just wrapped a blanket around his waist.

“so what? not like anyone’s gonna see anyways.” he shrugged, pushing you out by the shoulder.

you still weren’t used to his new luxurious penthouse, it felt big, spacious. the lavishness reminding you of the difference between you and him—between you and the entire school population in general. perhaps yeji was right, the social class discrepancy was too big to ignore. you wonder whether or not you’d still be in contact with the people that surround you right now once you’ve graduated and have exited the little bubble of jyp-u, once you go out into the real world and have to crawl yourself up once again into the corporate ladder while people like Yang Jeongin or Han Jisung have their future served in front of them on a silver platter.

perhaps it’s that fear of uncertainty that makes you keep yourself at an arm’s distance. the prospect of being in a relationship with any of these powerful people being a bit too hard to handle— you were one to always think about the future, after all. you weren’t ashamed to admit the fact that you’ve wondered about the ifs and hows of your would-be relationship had you pursued either Hwang or Seungmin—both having corporate businesses to take over once they graduate despite the fact that the former refused to do so. you didn’t feel like you were up to the responsibility. you were a simple person, the life of a conglomerate wasn’t really something you’ve envisioned for yourself.

jeongin opened the door for you, gently turning you around before giving you a quick peck as you walked out the door.

*click*

you both froze, faces inches away from each other as you stared at each other’s eyes, not willing to look away in fear of finding out what’s beyond each other’s line of sight. changbin’s room was directly in front of jeongin’s, you didn’t care whether or not he sees you because the older guy already has an idea of what’s going on, you even ran into him whilst sneaking in last night and he was more than happy to let you off.

though the problem wasn’t the sound of changbin’s door closing, but it was the figure that you see in your periphery, frozen in shock at the sight of the two of you. hesitantly, you turned your head, only to find a shell shocked han jisung darting his eyes between the two of you and to the other person.

that’s weird, why would he be shocked at seeing changbin? you turned your head once more, realizing that the other figure was far from the shape of changbin, but instead, a familiar set of eyes looked back at you awkwardly—

“—ryujin?!?” you exclaimed

“y/n!” she greeted with a laugh as she caught you in the act, her eyes wide with surprise but also sort of expected it already. at the side, jisung pointed a finger between the two of you.

“jeongin!!” he shouted, making the younger boy cross his arms as he leaned into the doorframe.

“if you think that i’m gonna dramatically say your name back then you’re wrong.” he retorted sarcastically, making jisung roll his eyes.

“darn it.” he muttered, but his attention went right back on track, “so there is something fishy between the two of you, minho’s instincts really are never wrong!” he exclaimed with disbelief.

you tried to think up an excuse but jeongin barely made an effort to hide the fact that he was naked underneath the blanket and also for some reason he just had to give you a goodbye kiss—

“you saw he was there, didn’t you!” you looked at him accusingly. the younger boy just shrugged, a mischievous smirk in his lips before he stepped back into his room, closing the door in your face.

that little piece of—

“uhhh, pretend this never happened?” you asked ryujin but she was already quick to pounce on you.

“what was that y/n? you’re sleeping with yang jeongin? oh my goodness, the scandalous revelation!” she teased making you whine.

“you’re literally just coming out of changbin’s room?” you pointed but she held a hand up.

“first of all, i went to get some papers for the council meeting, and second, i’m not the one who’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday.”

darn. she got you there.

“now if you’ll excuse me, i have a meeting to attend and a bitch to cross.” ryujin said before walking away waving to the two of you before leaving you with han jisung.

“ummm, i’m gonna go too—” you tried to sneak away and thankfully, jisung let you. but you’d be wrong to think that he’d let you get away with it. he simply had other matters to take care of in the meantime.

was it mean of ryujin to use you as a scapegoat to escape the possibly annoying questions that nosy han has? yes, but she didn’t really care—she was one to look out for herself first.

which speaking of, it’s something that she feels like she’d be doing a lot today, especially as she dragged her feet to the main campus, her body autopiloting to walk her towards the student council office. it was something that was now instinctive with her routine, and despite her lack of contribution at times, it was unfair to say that she never helped.

ryujin went inside the office, the roundtable already filled with various papers and meeting snacks, everyone was already there except for the sophomore representative—but the guy didn’t really seem adamant on associating himself with student council business so it was understandable.

“you’re late,” the vice president greeted as she sat beside chan in the center part of the table. ryujin rolled her eyes, slamming a binder on the table as she took a seat, glaring at the vice.

chan clapped, getting everyone’s attention before ryujin could retort, “well, now that everyone’s here, why don’t we get started. mr. secretary, if you may please guide us through the agendas.”

the meeting started… smoothly, as much as it can be, at least. everyone was wary of speaking with mostly just changbin being the one amongst the lower ranks to give their two cents. yuna was fiddling with her fingers beneath the table as she watched the meeting unfold, there really weren’t much she could comment on now that everyone seemed to be listening to each other.

the first order of business was the representatives debacle—much to Jisoo’s dismay (or perhaps she secretly didn’t want to be here either), both Younghoon and her are now dismissed from duties and the council was now going to find better replacements.

“can i leave too?” eunha asked, which sparked another debate on whether or not they should let the poor girl go.

“she obviously doesn’t want to be here,” changbin defended.

“but she’s a huge asset!” somi fired back.

this continued for a few more minutes before the poor girl had to put a stop to it herself. “i’ll stay.” she simply said, shutting both of them up.

the next one was about christmas itineraries, the plans for december and what possible events could be interesting for the students—this continued without a strife, it was a regular topic after all, and begrudgingly to admit, ryujin knows that somi’s good at what she does, making her grumble underneath her breath.

out of boredom, she sneaks a glance towards eunha, more so with her binder. “what are you writing?” ryujin asked quietly as to not disrupt the current conversation ongoing.

“minutes of the meeting.” the junior simply answered.

“isn’t that the secretary’s job?”

eunha simply shrugged, “i wanted to do it too.”

ryujin shook her head at the odd girl until a paper sticking out caught her eye, making her raise her eyebrows—lee minho’s details?

ryujin immediately snatched the paper, making eunha cover it from ryujin’s eyes, “that’s confidential, i think. i don’t know.”

chan coughed, looking at the two of them, “eunha, ryujin, something to share?”

ryujin looked at eunha, “i think you should share this with them.”

“do i have to?”

ryujin rolled her eyes, sliding the paper to chan instead, his eyes gazing over the writing on the paper. “is this y/n’s report?” the president asked, making eunha nod.

“what is it?” somi inquired, looking over the paper.

“apparently someone’s been stalking minho,” chan explained.

“well we can’t have a danger like that around campus.” somi said, shaking her head, “changbin, prioritize watching over lee minho, make sure that you catch whoever is bothering him. we don’t want any student to be harmed.”

“got it.”

finally, the topic of ryujin came up.

somi was the first to raise her stand, “i still don’t think she needs to be here—”

yuna cleared her throat, raising her hand as she took out her notebook where she kept the writing of the points she wanted to make, “if i may speak, i have a few defenses on why shin ryujin should remain as a disciplinarian.”

chan gave her a small encouraging smile, urging her to go on.

“seo changbin and shin ryujin are great partners, they both have their own strengths and weaknesses but together, they form a good team as student disciplinarians. there have been many cases where students felt more encouraged or safe whenever ryujin was the one that handled them—i’ve also asked around past troublemakers and more often than not, they’ve strived to do better after talking to ryujin.” yuna handed out pieces of paper that recorded her small survey. it wasn’t the most professional but it was obvious that the girl did her best. ryujin was touched to have such a bestfriend.

“second, we used to have the problem of girls going to the bathroom to smoke and this is one of the more shallow points but changbin obviously can’t go inside the ladies’ bathroom.”

they all nodded in understanding.

“third, changbin is a gym bro, while ryujin is a trained self-defense martial artist. not that i’m trying to put down changbin here but in terms of subduing a student when worse comes to worse, ryujin has a better grasp on how to control her strength to not accidentally hurt the student. we’ve all seen changbin accidentally break a mug with his bare hands when he tried washing it, we don’t want the same accidents happening to a student.”

everyone nodded once again, even changbin who had to facepalm in shame.

“and finally, when in terms of approachability, students have raised the awareness that changbin often scares them hence when in need of help, they go to ryujin. changbin is a great office member but there are gaps in his skills that ryujin can fill as his partner, hence why it’s better to keep them as a package deal.”

ryujin held yuna’s hand underneath the table, feeling the shakiness of the younger girl’s grip.

everyone looked at her with a new sense of acknowledgement, with somi even clapping, “very well said, shin yuna. i suppose if you put it that way, we can rework a better team dynamic with ryujin in it.”

petty as she may feel right now, ryujin still hated somi’s guts, but she put that feeling aside to lower her pride and not put yuna’s efforts to waste.

“thank you, i’ll do my best.” she said through gritted teeth.

“i’d like to see more of that work ethic, yuna.” somi commented, making yuna nod.

chan clapped, signalling a meeting adjourned, “i think that’s all to—”

“wait.” seungmin spoke up, “i have another thing i want to discuss.”

everyone looked at him, waiting.

“i’m stepping down from being student council secretary.”

“WHAT?!?”

SYNOPSIS:

JYP University… You didn’t know what to expect, especially since you were simply just a charity case to a prestigious boarding school. You were intimidated— and rightfully so. After all, there’s only so much fun you can have till the pressure of college life gets to you.

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[sakusasbunny]

— debasement 

anon: Professor Kuroo thirst - it's office hours and you sit with your knees hugging your chest. u don't realize that he can see the back of your thighs and your underwear hugging your cunny. You shouldn't wear a skirt that short around kuroo sensei, not when you get wet at the sight of him. Not when you catch him wide eyed at wetness trickling around ur thighs.he's a young single professor, doesn't hurt to please him right?

pairing: kuroo t. x reader

cw: student-teacher relationship (college setting), age gap, non-con, blackmail, oral

wc: ~2.1k

a/n: again, i was carried away w what was just supposed to be a drabble :D. also a special thank you to @azo-musxas for beta reading this fic, ily!!

m.list

You were sitting on the couch directly facing his desk as you fiddled with your skirt. Professor Kuroo had asked you to meet him in his office. He said he needed to talk to you, but he never specified the reason. You were nervous, what could he possibly need to talk to you about that he couldn’t just say after class?

Your heart raced as you watched him across the room grading papers. He ran a hand through his messy hair and adjusted the glasses that sat atop his nose. You noticed that the first few buttons of his dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone to you. The knot in your stomach was growing as you shamefully gawked at him, taking in the way his shoulders tensed after every long sigh and how his jaw was accentuated whenever he clenched it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and you watched his arms flex as he tightened his grip on his pen. Your face flushed wondering how his hands would feel around your soft skin, gripping and bruising where he’d touched you.

It didn’t help your nerves that he’d ask you to wait till after he was done grading the last of his papers. Not when you were forced to be alone in a room with your young hot professor.

It shouldn’t take much longer, he promised. What a liar.

Pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in your arms, you tried to provide yourself with what little comfort you could. You took a deep breath in and tuned everything else out, focusing only on the air that filled and escaped your lungs. However, as you attempted to distract yourself, your efforts resulted in the opposite and thoughts of your attractive professor clouded your mind. Unconsciously, your legs began rubbing together in earnest.

What you failed to realize was that your short skirt, which already was so revealing, had hiked up, exposing the cotton of your underwear to your professor. 

As Kuroo’s eyes flitted up, he was greeted by your bare thighs and tight underwear that hugged your cunny. He’d noticed the way your legs clenched together  as well. Kuroo leaned back in his chair and let out an appreciative sigh, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the pen in restraint.

 God, you were a clueless little thing, weren’t you?

He’d surmised that you fluttered your way around life without so much a care in the world, not paying any attention to your surroundings or the bad men that lurked in the shadows. He could tell life had come so easily to you. You reeked of innocence and naïveté that he’d loved to debase. How cute, he thought.  Didn’t you know never to wear such short skirts in front of men? The world was full of bad people and it was an important lesson for such a young girl like you to learn— one that he’d be glad to teach you.

Getting up, he circled his way around his desk, slowly making his way towards you. His movements weren’t unlike that of a predator eyeing his prey; you were just a poor gazelle unknowing of the lion preparing to strike. Kuroo sat down on the coffee table in front of you, careful not to make a sound. He wanted this moment to last longer so he could savor the sight in front of him. You still hadn’t realized how much you revealed to your professor as you hugged your knees to your chest.

Kuroo took in your stuttering breaths, his eyes dark as they trailed down to your soaked underwear. Such a naughty girl... were you thinking of him? Is that what was making your pussy drool all over his couch? His cock ached at the mere thought of it. 

Oh, he was gonna have so much fun with you.

He placed a gentle hand on your forearm and your head shot up, “Uhm, P-Professor, I—  Sorry, I didn’t hear you come over.”

“That’s alright,” he offered you a reassuring smile and it helped ease your nerves a little bit, “Don’t be so nervous, you’re not in any kind of trouble.”

His hand remained on your forearm, rubbing small circles around your skin.

“I-I’m not?”

“No, of course not,  you haven’t done anything wrong.” He almost melted right there as your eyes lit up. “But— I would like to talk to you about your grades.”

“My grades?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward as he clasped his hands in front of him. Kuroo took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m afraid you're failing my class.”

“B-But I—” you stammered. 

Your voice trailed off as tears began to prick your eyes. The crushing feeling in your chest weighed you down and you hugged your knees closer. Kuroo watched your lips tremble, slowly parting as if you were going to say something in protest but closing again.

“No, hey, hey…  It’ll be okay, don’t cry.” He brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek and wiping a tear that threatened to fall. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax into his touch. 

“I’m here to help you out, yeah? You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll find a way to bring your grades up.” You sighed in relief, but as you looked up at your professor, you could see the predatory gaze in his eyes as he stared down at you. The soothing feeling of his small embrace was suddenly drowned out by the sinister meaning behind his reassuring words. You leaned away from his touch, eyes widening in fear.

You shrunk back on the couch, inching as far as you could until your back was flat against the leather cushions. Panic kept you sedentary.  You could have taken the chance and ran but as he stood slowly and peered at you with half-lidded eyes, you found yourself cemented in place.

Kuroo took a step towards you. He undid the knot in his tie, hooking his finger over the fabric and pulling it side to side until it effortlessly fell to the floor. He let out a low chuckle, the corners of his lips turning in a malicious smile.

“I think you know what you have to do.”

“P-Professor, please, n-” 

He grabbed your chin harshly, silencing you.

“Don’t you see the opportunity I’m giving you? I have no qualms about letting you fail my class”

“No! Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Good… Now, why don’t you show me that slutty pussy of yours.”

You spread your legs wide for him and Kuroo situated himself in between your thighs. He was so close that you could feel his cool breath on your cunt. 

“Look at you,” he said, taking in the sight before him. “Already dripping for me.”

He trailed two fingers on the damp spot that formed on your underwear and pressed lightly. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to suppress the sigh threatening to escape your lips. You’d rather he got it over as quickly as possible, even if it ended up hurting you more, but he’s decided to savor the moment.

Kuroo hooked his finger on your panties, slipping them off your legs. The cold air in his office hit your dripping pussy, making you feel all the more exposed. You clamped your legs together in an effort to hide yourself but his hands were quick to grab your thighs, keeping your legs spread as wide as possible.

“Don’t.” His voice was low as he warned you. 

Kuroo didn’t waste any time as he teased your hole with his tongue. He moved slowly and deliberately as he dove into your fluttering pussy. Your thighs tensed around his head but as he moved towards your clit, he felt your legs relax in his hold. 

You couldn’t help but moan as he lapped at your dripping cunt, lost in your own pleasure. He brought two fingers to your lips, spreading you apart. Long fingers teased and prodded at your hole before slowly slipping inside you. It was a tight fit but your own wetness made it easy for him to pump his fingers inside you. 

You were close, so close. Your hips were bucking into his fingers, practically begging him to go faster but the sudden realization of your situation brought you crashing down.

“Wait! Please, professor, I-I can’t—!”

“You can’t?” his fingers continued their movements, curling to massage that spot inside you and making you groan, “Well… that could mean anything when you’re making such loud, pretty noises for me.”

The slick sounds of your pussy were obscene as he spread the two fingers inside you stretching your walls. You let out a sob, the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened.

He hummed in approval.

“Good girl, I think you’re ready for me.”

Kuroo stood from his position and you watched him with glassy eyes as he unbuckled his belt and let his cock out of his slacks. You felt delirious and heavy laying down on the couch. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the soft cushions. You couldn’t make anything else out except for the loud clang when his pants hit the floor and a bright flash of white light that lasted only for a second, followed by a small beep.

He lined himself up with your hole, but not before sliding the angry tip of his cock on your slit and spreading his precum. He stretched you out, not bothering to slow down as he pushed his cock into the kiss of your puckered cervix. The blunt head of his cock forced a scream from your throat and you held onto the back of his neck, digging your nails into his skin. He hissed at the sensation.

Kuroo pulled out, leaving only his head inside, before slamming his hips against yours and battering the tight ring of the spongy muscle. He could feel your walls squeeze around his cock with every move he made, tugging him deeper into your pussy. You felt the prominent vein that ran along his shaft making you pulsate around him in desperation.

Tears streamed down your face as you screamed in pain and pleasure. You had the cutest look on your face as you tried not to enjoy yourself while Kuroo repeatedly bumped your g-spot with his cock. He took hold of your legs once more, bruising your plush skin with his grip. Pressing your legs flat on your chest, he put all his weight on the back of your thighs and he quickened his pace. 

Kuroo’s desperation grew while he watched your mouth open in a silent scream. His pleasure was heightened thinking about how he was violating your most intimate parts. He’d dreamt of molesting cute girls like you— so deep in their denial even when their cunny’s sucking the cum right out of his cock. 

You’d never let yourself admit how good you felt even as you gushed around him, soaking him in your slick. You were blinded with pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching, and legs thrashing underneath him. The knot in your core snapped all at once while you came around him.

He kept you close to him as he felt your walls flutter around his shaft. Kuroo drove his cock harder inside you, his pace unrelenting, and when his tip kissed your bruised womb, he came. He growled in your ear as he shot hot ropes of cum deep into your cunt. You could feel it trickle out of your convulsing hole as he fucked his cum into you.

You moaned— a sad, hiccuping moan, as he pulled himself out of your dripping cunny. He watched his seed dribble out of your stretched hole slowly before scooping it up and pushing it back inside. Kuroo helped pull your underwear up your legs, releasing the fabric with a snap, ensuring none of it would escape.

He pulled you up from your previous position and he cupped your face. Exhaustion filled your body and you couldn’t resist anymore, not that you had fought him all that hard. You openly stared back at him dumbly.

Your professor moved his phone in front of your face, waving it around to ensure you paid attention. Horror ran up your spine as the filthy sounds of your wanton moans flooded the room.

“Now, I’ve caught a little snippet of our… time together on video. I’m sure you wouldn’t want this getting out.” He let out a breathy laugh, chuckling at the dumbfounded look on your face. “ I mean— what would your classmates think of you? So, why don’t you meet me back here tomorrow at the same time? We can put that whore mouth of yours to use, pretty girl.”

[meltingpotimagines]

Boyfriend!Bakugo

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for 100 followers!! I still can't believe 100 people have liked what I've written enough to follow me asjksjkd I appreciate every single one of you and will do my best to keep producing even better content 🤍

okay

if you have any sweet thoughts about katsuki as a boyfriend, imma need you to leave them at the door thanks

he's not kirishima

this boy is an explosive punk

but i mean isn't that the appeal?

i do however headcanon him as a lowkey mama's boy

and you know what they say about mama's boys

how they treat their mom is how they'll treat you

hope you can keep up in an argument asjdksjsk

imma be honest

he

did not like you at first

but it's okay bc he doesn't like anyone at first

he doesn't like most people at all aksjsj

but somewhere along the line you became less annoying than the others

more tolerable

almost... enjoyable to be around

he even liked you more than kirishima, not that he was willing to admit it

partially bc that would mean admitting to liking kiri and he was not about to acknowledge his feelings like that

honestly it didn't hurt that you didn't seem to be afraid of him

you said hi to him whenever you saw him, and you invited him to a party you threw a while back

and your smiles were never... forced

they were genuine and kind and it didn't seem like you had anything against him??

which makes no sense bc he's

him

loud and explosive

even his classmates only tolerated him baby they like you and kiri and denki frickin LOVE you hush

you definitely piqued his interest

so when he found out you needed a tutor, boy nonchalantly offered to tutor you

and by nonchalantly i mean practically j u m p e d at the chance but in a way that made it seem like he was only doing it so you'd owe him

which... would be a little challenging bc he's not the most patient person in the world

but he is one of the smartest in his class so you were willing to make it work plus he's super cute soooo

surprisingly he's more patient than you thought he'd be?

he's not deku but he's not screaming at you or bonking you on the head like he did kirishima asjdkad

he actively did his best to be patient and understanding, which shocked the entire class when they found out

kiri and denki had figured out from that that katsuki liked you and immediately started encouraging him to ask you out

which obviously he fought bc no wdym i don't like anyone

l i a r

did they accept that answer? no

took a few months of them constantly pushing and risking being blown to bits before he finally accepted that he likes you

still took him a little longer before he could work up the courage to ask you out

you know he's insecure, he had to make sure you weren't going to reject him before putting himself out there like that

and considering you were painfully obvious about your crush to everyone b u t him, kiri had no problem reassuring him that you wouldn't turn him down

he was a frickin t s u n d r e when he asked you out, but of course that didn't stop you from saying yes

nor did his slightly stand-offish attitude stop you from going on more dates

he was trying his best and you knew that

the dates were simple but (for him) sweet

he'd hesitate for a moment before quickly grabbing your hand to hold, slightly blushing and refusing to look at you

he'd buy you a snack from a street vendor when he bought himself one and act like it was no big deal

occasionally if he was really struggling with his emotions, he'd "buy himself a snack" and take one bite before giving it to you

he most definitely actually bought it for you but he wasn't going to admit that

honestly he was even awkward when he asked you to be official

"so... we're dating now. you're mine. aight?"

this frickin loser aksnsjs

but it's okay bc he's a cutie

and angy cutie but a cutie nonetheless

and now he's your cutie~

and boy if it ain't an interesting experience

he's ticklish on the sides of his neck only

you only found out bc you had your face buried in his neck while cuddling and he flinched slightly when you sighed

it was barely noticeable, but you were in tune with him well enough that you noticed

threatened to punch you if you ever dared intentionally tickle him

it was an empty threat and you both knew it

luckily for him, you agreed to not tickle him most of the time

definitely the type to hold your hand 24/7 while driving

like, he doesn't let go even to shift gears, just uses your hand to do it

will make you food when you're sick

or if there's something you really really wanna eat

it's one of his ways of saying i love you without actually saying it

gets jealous easily but never in a way that's directed at you

if he notices someone checking you out, he'd show them that you're his

what he does depends on how interested or sleezy they seem

if it's not much, he'll just grab your hand or wrap an arm around your shoulders

if it's a little too much for his liking, he'll wrap an arm around your waist or peck your cheek or lips

if they're r e a l l y lookin, he'll pull you into him and give you a deep kiss before locking eyes with them, a fire in his that just screams "get lost"

honestly comes off as more protective than jealous if you know him well enough which you do~

also

if someone smacks your butt, grabs you, or gropes you in a n y way

hope they picked out their casket bc they w i l l die

that boy will beat the living crap out of them

w i t h o u t his powers just to make it worse and to avoid getting in trouble bc this boy is a future hero

when you hold hands, he does the thing where he rubs your thumb with his

90% of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it

it just helps him relax a little more and maybe just maybe helps remind him that yes you a r e real and there is indeed someone who loves him that much but you didn't hear that from me

he's not usually the greatest at initiating any kind of physical contact, but sometimes if he's feeling really cuddly or missed you a lot, he'll just kinda throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed to snuggle

if you're willing, he actually really likes working out with you

you encourage him, he encourages you (in his own way ofc)

and he takes care of you, but like... wordlessly

like he'll bring you a towel if he notices you need one or fill your water bottle when he fills his

he may not say it, but he feels responsible for you

you're his partner after all

everyone else may be extras but maybe- just maybe- you can be a main character with him

[wheelsup]

that wasn’t for you

summary: spencer receives a valentine that the reader intended to give to someone else

category: fluff/humor

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

While February 14th marked a holiday that most adults, especially those of the single variety, came to despise, it was one that you absolutely adored. Relationship or not, you looked forward to a designated day for which people could let their love outpour from within. Given the less than lovely acts you saw on the daily, it felt even more necessary to overcompensate with the brightly colored decorations, saccharine confections, and little valentine cards that denoted the holiday. Luckily, there was one woman in particular that shared your love for being over-the-top: Penelope Garcia.

Over the weekend, Penelope invited you over to her place to make personalized, handmade valentines cards for your entire team. With a craft store bag full of construction paper, heart-shaped stickers, glitter, gluesticks, and colored pens, you arrived, ready to get to work. Some of the cards contained jokes geared toward the recipient’s taste, others had little motivational or appreciative words that you knew the person deserved to hear. Each member was receiving a handful of their own cards, with a heart-shaped lollipop taped to the back, because you and Penelope just couldn’t hold back. By the time you two finished working on the notes, Penelope had pink and purple glitter in her hair and you had a stomach ache from the too many lollipops you’d consumed absentmindedly while working. It was everything an afternoon with your best friend should be.

On the day of, the two of you distributed the notes throughout the day, sprinkling little love letters whenever you felt like it. You handed Derek one during the morning briefing, earning a laugh and playful eye roll at the inscription: I was going to make a football pun, but I’m too hot to watch sports. Sorry. You left one on Hotch’s desk and stealthily watched him open it, peeking into his office through his blinds. It was to let him know that he was doing a great job, both as a boss and a father, no matter how much it felt like he was slipping up at both. He tucked the note into his jacket pocket for safekeeping, patting it twice over the fabric.

The remainder of the day went in the same tune; dropping off valentines randomly between paperwork and coffee breaks, sometimes handing it to the person directly and sometimes leaving it as a surprise. During the very last hour of the work day, you hand delivered your last valentine to the office of Penelope Garcia. You’d been saving this one.

When she gently unsealed the card - she wanted to preserve it as best as possible, it was going into one of her scrapbooks later - Penelope’s face was not the giggly one you were expecting. She was confused by the note inside, but nodding along like she liked it anyways so as not to offend. But ultimately, she had to ask, “Was this meant for me?”.

She flipped the note to you, and it read: What did thymine and guanine say to adenine and cytosine? You complete me!

It was meant for Spencer. Not Penelope. Which meant something worse than Penelope receiving Spencer’s valentine. It meant Spencer received Penelope’s.

Turning right out of Penelope’s office, you bee-lined towards the bullpen, crossing your fingers and toes that you could intercept the note before Spencer came back from the restroom and found it. No such luck. Spencer was standing next to his desk, reading the note over and over.

“Spencer, no!” You lunged forward, trying to grasp the note out of his hand as if he hadn’t already seen it.

“You have a cute butt. Can I squish it?” he recited incredulously.

You already knew what was in the note, but hearing him read it back made your entire face and neck heat up with embarrassment. You lunged at it again, and once again Spencer yanked his hands away from you, the card firmly in his hold.

“Spencer, give it back.”

“No, it’s mine.” He kept tiptoeing away every time you stepped closer, protecting the valentine with one arm in front of himself to keep you back and the other holding the note as far from you as possible. You dived forward, and he pushed your shoulders back. You went for the low shot, ducking under his limbs, but he rolled away. Spencer thwarted each attack on the valentine with a precision you had yet to see on the field. “What made you realize it was so cute? Are my squats finally paying off? Derek will be so proud.” he teased, laughing at your humiliation.

“That was a joke valentine for my best friend! It wasn’t meant for you!” Spencer guessed that much already, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying this any less.

“Are you sure? I think I should keep it.”

You huffed and dropped your arms, retreating back to your desk. If he wanted to have it so bad, let him have it. Wrestling a co-worker in the middle of the office was sure going to cast a shadow on your professionalism.

“Hey,” Spencer called and you turned back around, “was it the black pants I wore last week?”

You snorted at yourself for being naive enough to expect he’d be done joking about this. Years of knowing Derek had finally rubbed off on the doctor, and somewhere around his seventh year at the Bureau, he gained all of the self-confidence in the world.

“I’d say the gray ones do more for the eye, actually,” you retorted, hoping to get a rise out of him the same way he was trying to get one from you.

Spencer could try and act like that didn’t affect him in any way, but the blush creeping up his neck was his tell.

Satisfied with his reaction, you packed up your things and left for the day, feeling as if you won that battle.

Come next morning, you found out that you very much did not.

Spencer came into the office clad in those gray trousers that stretched across his toned thighs and pushed his pert little butt upwards.

You counted four times that got up from his desk to visit Penelope’s office, twice that he got a fresh cup of coffee, and once where he simply got up just to take a lap about the bullpen, only to sit back down in his seat. Each time, he made it a point to walk past your desk, giving his hips an extra bit of motion as he did.

And it would be a lie to say that you didn’t watch him go each time he passed, eyes drifting to his backside in the most subtle way you could manage.

Regardless of if Spencer noticed your stares or not, he already decided to purchase three more of those pants, just to make you suffer all the more.

a/n: hope u enjoyed a little appreciation for this mans barely-there booty <3 s/o loml @ellesgreenaway for helping me beta this lol

taglist: @ellesgreenaway @mercy-burning @reidspurple @honeyboysteezy @blondefrnk @ssa-kassidyhughes @joodeduarte @mediocre-writer @suburban--gothic

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

                                                                                                         [next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

[collisiondiscourse]

say amen (bkdk drabble)

(a little drabble based off of one of my favorite posts that ive ever made)

Katsuki’s not a religious man.

Yeah, okay, he believes in deities and goes to temples, the blond will admit that much. The existence of a higher power isn’t really that far from the realms of possibility when he regularly interacts with people who have the head of a bird or engines for legs. He celebrates the holidays, and on days where he’s feeling especially magnanimous, Katsuki even buys temple charms and sends out a quick prayer to whoever might be listening.

But he isn’t religious.

He doesn’t like feeling like he’s indebted to someone. That somehow, somewhere, there is someone Katsuki should be grateful to for giving him all his successes. He worked hard to get where he is now all by himself, thank you very much. The idea that everything is somehow predetermined or controlled by someone he can’t even see is one that makes the blond break out into hives.

A man with any dignity such as Katsuki’s is too proud to kneel to any god.

But then again… Izuku Midoriya is no such god.

He’s very much human, Katsuki would believe despite the seemingly endless strength his short and stocky figure possesses. He’s freckles and sunburns and scars and toothy smiles and everything that used to make the blond’s blood boil. Deku can’t dress himself nicely to save his life and sings All Might show tunes in the shower when he thinks no one can hear. Katsuki’s seen the boy throw up on his dumb red shoes and laugh so hard he scared himself with his own snorts.

He’s seen Deku at his worst. Crying and crumbling, body all bloodied and torn up after giving it his all. He’s seen him angry--borderline murderous even--with rage consuming him and leaving him gasping for breath as he saddles closer and closer to the line betwean life and death. He’s seen Deku broken and hollow, unable to eat for days and smelling like a decomposing corpse because the demons in his eyes had all but haunted him from even getting up to shower.

The point being, Katsuki knows that Izuku Midoriya is flawed.

He should, at least. Having seen these cracks and imperfections over and over should’ve cemented the idea that Deku was far from perfect. He sees sides of Deku that even their best friends, let alone the public have never seen. Bakugou knows that Izuku Midoriya is not a God--and is in fact very far from one.

But fuck if he doesn’t worship him like he is.

When Izuku confessed to him in their second year, Katsuki thinks that he learned what it feels like to die.

As dramatic as it sounds, it’s true. Watching those green eyes peel away from their locked gaze on his red ones to stare nervously at the ground causes Katsuki’s heart to jump. His palms were sweaty and blood roared in his ears, deafening him from all sounds except Deku’s voice. He’d initially thought that this was it. This was Deku preparing to tell him that he couldn’t stand being his friend anymore, that no matter how much Katsuki tried to atone for himself, Deku finally realized that Katsuki would never be worthy of his love.

It built up and up until Katsuki couldn’t breathe, willpower alone keeping him from gasping for breath as he awaited Deku’s rejection. The sun set in a brilliant cast of oranges and purples, but neither boy on the rooftop could stand to appreciate it when the sights in front of them were far more important.

“Kacchan,” he blurts at last. A sliver of his pink tongue peeks out to lick at his chapped lips. Katsuki’s chest constricts with want. “I like you.”

And it’s at those three words that Katsuki truly believes in an afterlife.

His heart clenches and stops for a different reason--a different feeling entirely. The world tilts on its axis and his breaths come up short, yet Katsuki’s never been happier to have been wrong. Parts of him shrivel up. Shudder in anxiety. Embers of raw anger and determination (leftover from years of scars and charred notebooks) tell him that he’s not worthy of Deku. That Katsuki is yet to even deserve to take the hand that has been waiting for him for his whole life.

Admittedly though, Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish, selfish man.

He stares at that freckled and blushing face like it’s a reflection of the universe itself. Green eyes that mistakenly take Katsuki’s silence as rejection grow watery, and yet as Katsuki stares into the molten pool of emerald and moss, he thinks he may see his entire life in those pretty eyes.

“...Kacchan? It’s okay if you don’t, uh, like me back. I u-understand if you feel uncomfortable or no longer want me be your friend even if it kinda s--”

“W-well really, it’s more of love. I... love you. Like, a lot. Have for a while I mean and I tried really hard to hide it but I’m sure it was obvious from the beginning and well, Uraraka said I was really bad at lying so I wasn’t really sure...” he mumbles. Stutters, because he’s human and very much not a god.

Katsuki Bakugou kisses Izuku Midoriya for the first time.

He kisses Izuku Midoriya because he wants all of him. He wants the sorrow and broken bones. The awkward laughter and nervous tics. Katsuki wants those green eyes to never stop looking at him and that mouth to never stop muttering the most inane nothings. He wants the beautiful and the ugly, the victories and the losses. He wants and he wants and he wants and he wants, and now that all of it is within his reach dear god is he never letting go.

The blond pours his soul into the kiss. Mouth harsh and unyielding, ever determined to prove to anyone watching that he’d throw away his life for this boy in a heartbeat. The desperation in their kiss practically daring anyone to try and pull them apart. Katsuki wants the kiss to say everything that he, in his weak and human state, cannot even begin to phrase. That somehow a single kiss could show the other that Katsuki loves him so much it breaks him inside. It’s so good that it’s painful. It’s painful and excruciating but fucking hell if Katsuki pulls away for one moment he thinks he might actually truly die.

They’re training to be pro-heroes, so of course their pain tolerance is higher than most. They’ve been taught to fight in any environment no matter what—could probably fight five people underwater for an hour without breaking a sweat. All of those hours of training somehow still mean nothing to Katsuki in the brilliance of the storm that is Izuku Midoriya.

Because as they kiss and breathe in each other’s air, Katsuki forces himself to pull away with a gasp.

Izuku thinks he’s hurt the blond accidentally, somehow. That he’d been too rough or pushed Bakugou into it or even just took his breath away from him in the literal sense. What the green-haired hero didn’t expect was the sheer devotion in ruby eyes.

(It would’ve scared him, if it didn’t make his knees shaky and heart rate speed up in exhilaration.)

Meanwhile, Katsuki’s drowning.

He’s drowning so deep in emotions that he’d never let himself feel until now. Drowning in his insecurities and greatest desires. Drowning in emotion and vigour. Drowning in the feeling of kissing Izuku fucking Midoriya. Part of him screams in agony, protesting this weakness as it fucks with his mind and squeezes at his heart.

The rest of him lets it happen.

Bakugou pulls away, gasping for breath. It’s too much and not enough, because he loves this boy so goddamn much that it actually hurts. He’s crying, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. So undone by a single kiss that tears streak down his face while white spots appear in vision of ruby eyes. A man so weak--so overcome with emotion that he can’t help but sob at the torrent of devotion that overtakes him. His heart throbs painfully and he struggles to take gulps of air, because Katsuki doesn’t truly love many people but there’s something about Izuku Midoriya that destroys him so thoroughly.

Ever understanding, ever patient, and ever too good for his damned, hell-bound soul, Izuku holds him close. He lets Katsuki weep into his jacket and runs scarred fingers through pale blond strands as the other boy tries to stifle his sobs. He hushes him with a light kiss to his temple and listens patiently as Katsuki whimpers every variant of ‘I love you’ under the sun.

Izuku Midoriya is no such god, but Katsuki Bakugou worships him like one nonetheless.

[rapsgoddess]

Washing Machine Heart Part 1. (Erik Killmonger x OC)

This is unedited so please have mercy on me in the notes 😭

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a thing to him. Next to being a mercenary, Erik was a player. He came and went as he pleased, spent his nights with more than one woman, and didn’t feel a single shred of regret whenever his girls would pour out their hearts to him. 

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a single thing to him, yet she still somehow fell in love. 

It was a painful realization. One that she came to during one of Erik’s many long term absences. It was another sleepless night for her and she was sitting in bed with her laptop open to her right and her keyboard directly in front of her. For the past week, the same melody had been on loop inside her head. A broken tune that conveyed so much sorrow that it nearly brought her to tears whenever she hummed it. Each day after she got home from work, she would add onto the melody bit by bit, putting in different instruments and sounds to create a beautiful symphony. 

When it came time to write lyrics for the song, all she could envision was a tune about unrequited love. The same unrequited love that she had been feeling for a while. 

It wasn’t until she put a name to that feeling when she finally realized how she truly felt about Erik. 

She decided to try and keep things suppressed for a while, hoping that her childish feelings of romance would disappear after a few days. 

They didn’t. 

When Erik returned a few weeks later, she didn’t, know how to act. The man made it known that he was not committed to anybody, and Nahla was no exception. On the rare occasion Nahla would catch a glimpse of him on social media, she would see him surrounded by women who looked as if they could be models. Women who were leagues ahead of her. The photos never failed to resurrect her insecurities. They made her question why Erik even bothered to give her the time of day. Yet those insecurities melted away whenever he came to visit her. 

Flash forward to the present, and Nahla found herself laying next to Erik’s naked frame in her bed. The faint sound of her washing machine echoed throughout the house, giving a sort of rhythmic banging as her shoes tussled around inside. The night was still fairly young, having only been a few minutes past seven, but all of the plans that Nahla had for that evening were discarded the moment Erik showed up on her doorstep. 

It didn’t take much for his words to lull her into bed and for his lips on hers to enrapture her. His low, smooth voice was like music to her ears, and her moans being music to his. Each praise that left his lips was like a toxic lullaby. Nahla knew that he had repeated the same words to dozens of women in the past, yet in the moment, they made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. 

“You feel so good around me baby…”

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy.”

“Say my name so everybody know who’s fuckin’ you right.” 

Thinking back to his words sent shivers down her spine. She was wide awake, restless and too excited to fall asleep. It was rare for Erik to stay after having sex, let alone fall asleep before her, but her inner turmoil prevented her from falling asleep. 

She turned back to look over at Erik, taking in every aspect of his being as if it were the last time she would see him again. No matter how many times she laid eyes on him, she would never be able to find the words to describe how beautiful he was. He had a smile that could light up a room and warm eyes that made her heart flutter each time she looked into them. It often left her wondering why exactly he even entertained the thought of her when he was way out of her league. 

A heavy sigh left Nahla’s lips and she threw the covers off the lower half of her body. She looked back at Erik one last time while putting on her robe, making sure that he stayed asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of the room and down the hall to her makeshift studio, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights. She used her studio as an escape from both the real world and her own mind, and right then she needed an escape from both. Turning on her equipment and opening up her laptop, she opened up the file that held her latest project. The one that helped her come to her realization in the first place. She made sure the speakers were low as to not wake Erik up and pressed play, listening to her voice blend with the gentle melody. 

She had only written a few lines so far and could feel the next verse just on the tip of her tongue, but lyricism had never really been her strong suit. Muttering random words under her breath, she opened up the notes section on GarageBand and began writing down whatever sounded nice, replacing and adding words where she deemed fit. 

“Might as well give it a go,” she sighed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the small corner where her mic and the rest of her recording equipment was set up. She pressed record on an empty track and began singing the second verse, her voice coming out soft and almost broken in contrast to her usual strong, belty tone. She was tired, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t walk back to that room. Not with him still laying asleep in her bed as if the two of them were a couple. 

After a few more takes, she had finally gotten her voice warmed up enough to where it didn’t sound completely like shit and she walked over to her work station to edit the track on top the music. 

With her mind now completely engulfed in her music, she didn’t noticed the sound of her toilet flushing or her bathroom sink running down the hall. She didn’t notice the sound of footsteps leading to her studio and her door opening slightly. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of a hand snaking its way around her neck drew her from her work as she jumped in her seat while clutching her chest in panic.

“Whatchu scared for? It’s just me,” Erik muttered, his voice still laced with drowsiness. “What are you doing up? Any other day you’d be knocked out.” His fingers gently squeezed at her neck and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. It was weirdly intimate of him.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to work on something.” Nahla spun her seat around to face him. He had on a pair of low hanging shorts. She recognized them as being one of the pairs she bought for him whenever he decided to stay over. She mentally scoffed at the thought; buying clothes for a man who she wasn’t even in a relationship with. 

“You’re not leaving?” She asked. It had just dawned on her that, miraculously, Erik was still there. 

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d stay for a little bit.” 

The sentiment made her heart flutter but she quickly grounded herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. 

“So, what are you working on?” He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked past her and at the open editing software on her computer. 

“Oh. Well I had a melody that was stuck in my head for a while so I put it down and write lyrics. I lowkey wanna find a mini orchestra to record it though.” 

“Well can I hear it?” He suggested. 

Nahla’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing each other for the better part of two years now, this was the most he had ever expressed genuine interest in her music. 

“U-Uhh, I’m not sure… I get really sensitive about my stuff. Plus it’s not what you’d expect it to be,” she said, swirling her chair back around to face her work station as she hesitantly placed her hand on the mouse  and moved the cursor over the “play” button. After taking a deep breath, she played the song and closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. Throughout the entirety of what little she had to play, Erik was silent, giving no response, comment, or critiques. When it was over, she reluctantly turned around to face him. 

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can definitely hear an orchestra going behind that. Maybe start off with piano first, then bring in strings or some shit during the hook,” he suggested, walking over to the other chair in the corner of her studio and sitting down. 

“Okay. Thanks.”

For about an hour or two, the two of them stayed up in her studio talking about random things while sharing a blunt together. They eventually migrated back to the bedroom and made their way beneath the covers together, Nahla’s body molding perfectly into Erik’s as they cuddled. 

“Nah, I’m deadass. I thought I had locked his cage, but he always finds a way to get out,” Nahla giggled, referring to her pet chameleon who always managed to get out of his cage. “I remember a few day ago I had just woken up and went into the kitchen to get some juice and I see him inside the sink just sitting there. Then he have the nerve to look up at me like ‘what are you doing here?’ No sir, what are you doing here.” 

Erik laughed softly while shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle an animal just freely roaming my shit like that.”

“You get used to it after a while. I was low-key thinking about getting a snake too, but I gotta figure out where to put the tank.”

“Oh hell nah. If you get a snake, I’m not coming by anymore.”

“What?! You used to be a whole Navy Seal and you’re scared of snakes, E?” She asked, a bit surprised that he even shared that information with her. 

“Girl, I don’t know how you can even stand them things,” he mumbled, “slithering around and shit. What if it gets out when you’re sleep and starts choking you?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she giggled, earning an eye roll from Erik. 

Though it didn’t seem possible, she pressed herself against Erik even harder, somehow managing to get even closer to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she had a perfect view of the many scars and keloids that littered his body. She could tell some of them are new. Whether or not they were accidental or self inflicted, she didn’t want to know. 

It was times like these where Nahla wished that her outlandish fantasies of romance weren’t fantasies at all. Having never been in a real relationship before, she constantly longed to be loved by someone in a romantic sense. Though she knew that Erik probably never thought of her as more than a fuck buddy, it was nice to feel his warmth underneath her. Even if it was an illusion, it was nice to imagine him as her lover while he was holding her close. 

“What’s on your mind?” He pried, letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. 

“Where do you go when you disappear?” She partially lied. Even though that wasn’t what truly was on her mind, it was still a question that lingered over her head for a while. 

“That, I can’t tell you ma. At least not right now.” 

She wasn’t satisfied with how curt his reply was. Sitting up, she supported her head with her hand, her elbow buried into the pillow beside his head as she peered down at him. 

“You can tell me,” she pried. A childish grin spread across her face. “If it’s something illegal I promise I won’t tell.”

Erik peaked one up up at her, a smile of his own taking over his featured. He pushed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Mm… Maybe I could tell you a little bit. I don’t even know where to begin though without you thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“You say that now.” There was a pregnant pause, and then, in the most serious tone ever, he said, “I’m apart of African royalty.”

“So there’s this country in Africa called Wakanda. At first glance, it seems like a small lil third world country, but in reality, they’re the most advanced civilization on the planet. They got this metal called Vibranium that allows them to all sorts of things, but they keep it hidden from the rest of the world.”

“How? And if they kept it hidden from the world, then how do you know about it?”

“They have a dome that surrounds the entire country. It’s practically impenetrable. And the only reason I know is because my father was the prince. He was sent here on an undercover mission in America but quickly saw how shitty thing were here, so he wanted to change it. “

“Wait, your father is the prince of an African country?” Nahla couldn’t believe her ears. Despite being secretive and mysterious, she knew that Erik wasn’t one to lie. After all, what could he possibly gain from lying about something as far fetched as this?  

“Was. He was killed before he could enact any change; by his own brother no less.”

She could hear a pain and vulnerability in his voice that she’d never heard before. Now she definitely knew that he wasn’t lying. 

Erik’s face had turned to the side in a fruitless attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He’d never brought up his family or much of his life before he met her in a conversation, and now she could see why. 

Hesitantly, Nahla reached up to wipe away the tears that left his eyes. “So you plan on going back and getting revenge?” She pondered. It would make sense why he’d want to stay under the radar,  having no social media accounts, no permanent phone number, and constantly disappearing for months at a time. If he wanted to infiltrate an entire hidden country, then he’d have to be the closest thing to a ghost a person could be. 

“It’s on the list,” he replied, sitting up in bed while resting back against the headboard. “But, my main goal is to change the world. Wakanda has technology and weapons that people can’t even begin fathom. If our people were able to get their hands on that kind of fire power, we wouldn’t have to worry about the White man oppressing us any longer.” 

The sadness that was once present in his eyes had long disappeared, instead being replaced with a burning passion. It filled her with joy to see him get passionate about something, but it also put her on edge. Nahla knew what his plan implied, and she didn’t put it past him to sacrifice countless lives in order to see his vision come to life.

Staying silent, she simply nodded, too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing if she opened her mouth. Tearing her gaze away from the man, she began contemplating on everything she had been thinking about prior to his arrival. Her feelings for him were still unwavering, but now she was starting to ponder on whether or not being with him was a wise decision. It didn’t take being a genius to know that Erik’s path was a set one. He was a determined, goal-driven man, and when his mind was made up, there was no convincing him to go back on his decision. 

If she followed him down that path, she wouldn’t be able to turn back. 

“Do I scare you?” 

Nahla looked back up only to be met with obsidian eyes boring straight into her deep brown ones. His question threw her for a loop, no doubt, considering how Erik was never one to be considerate of other people’s feelings. 

“H-Huh? What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant. 

“That look in your eyes… You’re scared of something. What is it?” He demanded in an eerily calm manner. 

Attempting to spare his feelings would be a futile decision; Erik read people like his favorite novel. Yet, for some reason, Nahla had no control over the words that left her mouth. 

She almost never did when she was around him. 

“Nothing. I just get a bit spooked in the dark,” she chuckled. 

Erik simply blinked at her, a look of uncertainty and doubt dancing around in his eye before he shrugged it off and laid back down in the bed, facing her completely. 

“You should get some rest. Goodnight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. 

Upon hearing his words, Nahla felt an immense tiredness wash over her as if he casted a sleeping spell over her. She glanced over at the clock and noticed how it was nearly 4 AM. She had only three hours before she needed to get up and get ready for work. 

She was tired, but fear kept plaguing her mind. A fear that he wouldn’t be there when she woke up. Or, even worse, a fear that she had dreamt the entire night. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered. 

Nahla wanted to believe him, so she did, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

[prfctethereal]

imagine. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play imagine by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader

summary: your boyfriend takes you on a day of wonder and comfort

word count: 3,006

warnings: non sexual nudity ig?? just a lot of fluff

a/n: thank you so much for 50 followers! all the support from you guys is crazy. i appreciate every single like, reblog, and comment. here’s a piece that i put my heart and soul into so i hope you all love it as much as i do. - kennedy

***

“Alright darling, now remember, no peeking, ‘mkay?”

With James’ hands covering my eyes, he guided me through the halls of the deserted castle. He spoke barely above a whisper, keeping his voice down so it didn’t echo throughout the corridors.

I was a bit surprised this morning to be woken up before the sun had risen. Even yet, no birds had started their usual choir. It was early, too early. Not even Remus would wake up this early, so it was odd this morning to be woken up by a cheery looking James.

Somehow, James had found the counter jinx that normally prohibited any boy to come up to the girl’s dormitories, which I hadn’t known until I felt the lulling voice of my boyfriend singing me awake at four in the morning, the pads of his fingers tenderly brushing stray hairs away from my restful face. Soft lips brushed down onto my glabella, humming a gentle tune.

“Good morning beautiful.”

I pressed some sort of agreeing sound past my lips and moved closer to James, wrapping my arm around his torso, nuzzling my head into his stomach. Laughter escaped his mouth, cupping my cheek with his hand, trying to pull me away from him, but I put up a fight, smacking his hand away.

“I want to show you something.”

Intrigued, I opened one of my eyes incredulously, letting it adjust to my sights. It was definitely early morning, with slits of moonlight still peering through the sheer curtains of the dormitories. Everyone else in the room was still sleeping peacefully, soft snores rhythmically keeping everyone asleep.

Staring right at me was the love of my life, my one and only, my boyfriend, James Fleamont Potter. In the moonlight, his bright hazel eyes dazzled, showing the flecks of his green and blue hues. His round glasses sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose, making it too easy for me to take them in my hands and place them over my own eyes. It was a little blurry but I could see James’ pouting playfully.

“Why would you do that? Now I can’t see your beautiful face.” A bright rouge tinted my cheeks as he said that, an impulse to bury my embarrassment following suit. Taking back his glasses, I could clearly see a smile creeping on his lips making me ask the age old question:

What’s gotten him so happy?

“I want to show you something.” James repeated, putting his hand over mine, helping me into a sitting position so I could really see what was going on.

James looked like he had been awake for a while, essence of energy flickering in his eyes. He was fully dressed in clothes that looked to be sticky to his body. His glistening body.

“Jamie, are you sweating?” I asked, placing my hand to his forehead, concerned. I wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the heat of the moment, but his face was glowing pink, and I only just noticed now his racing heartbeat.

“I’ve been up all morning working on something.” He cheeked, placing another gentle kiss on my cupid’s bow. “Now get up, I want to show you something.”

Eventually, I gave in, swinging my legs around the side of my bed. Dazed, I reached from my dressing gown to drape over my nightdress, as I wasn’t sure how chilly it would be outside of the common room. As silently as I could, I followed my doting boyfriend from my bedroom and through the sleeping portrait of the Fat Lady, leading up to where we are now.

“Can I open my eyes now?” I pleaded, a whimper leaving my throat as James pulled us around another corner. I had already accidentally trodden on James’ toes one too many times and I was itching to know where we were.

“Keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” James whispered into my ear, a chill running down my spine as I nodded compliantly. The initial heat of James’ hands left me face and I felt empty, even more when I heard his feet shuffling away. Using my hearing, I tried to figure out what he was doing, as he walked away from me then back towards me.

Was he pacing?

My thoughts were answered when I heard what sounded like a block of cinder moving, the rustle of rock rubbing together snapping me into my senses. Then, I heard the creaking of a door opening and I realised where we were: The Room of Requirement.

To some, it was a myth, an urban legend, but I knew it was real, as the marauders had planned their fair shares of pranks in that room. I smiled, wondering what James had gotten up to last night and why he was dragging me here at a ridiculous hour in the morning.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now sweetheart.” Greedily, I opened my eyes and took in the astonishing surroundings. The room had turned into an eloquent bedroom, with a blush king size bed up against the wall. In the corner was a closed off area with a sheer curtain keeping it hidden. An aroma of fresh linen and warm vanilla filled the room as I stepped further in. A vinyl player was set near the middle of the room, playing some quiet music to set the mood. Up against the player was a bunch of couches and a table, which seemed to be holding a plethora of different fruits and pastries.

I bee-lined for the bed though, diving into the blankets and duvet, sinking into the mattress, sighing in content. James followed behind, peeling off his shoes and over layer of his clothes, stripping into a more comfortable option. Together, we pulled the blankets over the bed, ready to go back to sleep.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, my love.” James hummed, pulling me close to his side so I could snuggle further into his torso. His heart beat soothed me, calming me down enough to pull me into a deep slumber in the arms of my one true love.

***

When I woke, James was already awake, playing with the ends of my hair, mesmerised. As he noticed I was waking, he kissed my forehead lovingly, tightening his grip around me, cuddling me more.

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked, his raspy morning voice sending a flush to my cheeks. I straightened up to him, placing a kiss directly to his lips.

“Of course, but I would also like to know what all this is for too.” I questioned, palming the edge of his shirt over in my hands, my fingers brushing over his bare stomach.

“We can talk over breakfast.” Taking my hand, he hoisted both of us out of the covers and guided me over to the couches, making sure I was sitting comfortably before going into an enchanted refrigerator to bring out some food. Even though refrigerators are typically cold places, two steaming plates of waffles and berries emerged from the fridge, with a smiling man carrying them over.

Hungrily, I took a plate from my boyfriend and started cutting into the sweet food, placing a piece into my mouth and chewing slowly, watching James from the corner of my eyes, who hadn’t stopped grinning since I had woken up.

“So,” I started, swallowing my mouthful, “what’s all this for?” James cocked an eyebrow but I continued dutifully. “I mean, it’s just a random Saturday morning and you surprised me with all this, and I’m-” I couldn’t even find the words to describe how I felt at the moment. The adoration I had for my boyfriend was too much.

“NEWT season is over and I know how much you’ve been stressing over these exams. I just wanted one weekend for you to distance yourself from the real world. I wanted to do something for you, because you mean so much to me, and I love you more than I can even imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot.” I giggled, placing a sour berry on my tongue.

“Oh?” James challenged, licking his lips, a million thoughts running through his head. “What else can you imagine?”

I thought about that for a while, taking another bite out of the crisp waffle on my plate, before speaking up again. “I can imagine us taking a bubble bath together, like what we did on our first date, do you remember?”

“How could I forget? There were bubbles everywhere! I could never imagine how messy it would turn out but, oh well.”

“We can imagine it now.” I smiled, a silence settling between us as we finished off our breakfast. Taking sneaky glances at James while eating, I saw the way his eyes were moving, like his brain was working overtime. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. I’m in love with that man.

After a while, when both the plates had been cleared, James cleared his throat, speaking once again. “We don’t have to imagine anymore. Follow me.”

My eyes lit up as I traipsed behind James to the corner of the room. He peeled back the curtain to reveal a full bathtub, warm soapy water coming off of it in swirling vapours. Hues of different liquids poured into the tub in thick streams, mixing together.

It was exactly like our first date, when James and I had broken into the prefect’s bathroom and bathed in all the different baths they had. The memories that it brought back welled tears up in my eyes, my hand wiping them away before he could notice.

“After you, m’lady.” A smile crept up my face as I slowly stripped the night dress off my body, criss crossing my arms up and over my head, pulling it off. Hesitantly, I unclasped my bra and pulled down my panties, before stepping into the bath, the warmth of the water calming my nerves in a second. As I turned back around, I noticed the bars James following me in, climbing into the tub and sitting down next to me. His arm wrapped around my waist pulling me into his side, my head dropping down to his shoulder.

“You really are the most beautiful girl in the world.” His words spoke deeply to me as his hand stroked up and down my side lovingly. I felt like a princess who had just found her prince.

“And you are the most dashing person I’ve ever met.” I cheeked back, taking a handful of bubbles from the water and blowing them into James’ face. Sensing a fight coming on, James pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose and sat them down on the edge of the bath, getting his game face ready.

“Oh, you’re on.” Is all he said before taking his own fistfull of bubbles and dropping them over my head, trickles of water running down the side of my face. Grinning menacingly, I gripped onto his shoulders, pulling him closer to my body before diving under the water, pulling his in with me. The world seemed to slow down for a moment as we stared at each other in the tinted water, holding our breaths as we waited for the next person to make their move. We didn’t wait long though as James used his strength to flip me over so he was on top of me, pulled us out of the water and pinned me to the side of the bath.

“Okay, okay, you win.” I pouted, a giggle falling from my lips as James released me from his grasp.

“What’s my prize?” A cunning grin rose on his face as I contemplated what to do. I could pull him back under the water or let him meet another ball of bubbles.

“This.” I said, pulling him close towards me, kissing him slowly on his lips. What was meant to be a short and sweet kiss turned longer and sensual as James' arms pulled me closer by my waist and my arms shot up around his neck. The kiss quickly turned passionate as James tilted my head up just a little to make me gasp, his tongue using this as an invitation to slip into my mouth.

After a few more minutes of just being with each other, we pulled away, our lungs thanking us for returning air into our systems. We were left breathless, panting as James’ hands went up to my cheeks, his thumb gently caressing my cheekbone.

“I really enjoyed that prize.” He smirked, running his fingers through my tresses of hair. I playfully splashed him with the water in the tub, swinging my legs over his lap to snuggle back into his chest. His breathing matched mine as we sat like this for a quiet moment.

“You know I love you, right?” James croaked out, a slight amount of anxiety detected in his voice. The question surprised me for a moment, catching me off guard, but I soon composed myself, looking at James directly in his doe like eyes.

“Of course, I do, love.” I sighed, running my thumb over his plump lips before leaning upwards to place one more peck at the corner of his mouth. “And I love you too. More than anything.”

“More than anything?” James laughed, his fingers falling down to my waist to tickle me gently. “More than waffles?”

“More than anything. Definitely more than waffles.” I melted in his grasp, pulling his hands off my waist and into my own hands, tugging him upwards into a standing position. “Do you know what else I can imagine?”

“Oh? What else can you imagine?”

“I can imagine us dancing around right now.”

“Whatever you can imagine can come true. Anything for you.” And with that, James bent down, kissing my knuckles like a true gentleman.

Carefully, we stepped out of the bathtub together and I took a few towels from a table and gave one to James. He rubbed the towel gently over his chest before tying it down so it hung loosely off of his hips. I patted the towel against my hot skin, feeling a bit of relief from the cold material. Once I was sufficiently dry, I tied it just above my breasts, so the towel covered my torso and most of my thighs.

I followed James out of the secluded bath area and into the open room where I found his playing with the vinyl player. When a new song started playing, he took my hand in his and placed his other hand on my waist, waiting for me to take his shoulder. As I did, I felt James immediately spin me around and dip me softly, kissing my forehead. Blushing again, I let James take control a bit, spinning me around like we were at a ball. This time, I wasn’t stepping on his toes with every moment and it felt like magic. The world seemed to have slowed down for us and we were the only two left. Nothing mattered except the man holding me right now and trying to listen out for the music so I didn’t fall on my head.

“Do you know what this song is?” James asked, spinning me in his arms once more.

“I don’t actually.” I pondered for a moment then spoke again. “It’s very lovely. What is it called?”

“It’s called Euphemia.” My eyes widened slightly as I recognised that name as the name of James’ mother. “My dad wrote it for her for their first anniversary. Whenever my mum would have a bad day, my dad would always play it through the house. One time, I was supposed to be asleep but I could hear my mum crying in the room over. So, I got up and started playing the song. She immediately stopped crying. To this day, I don’t know what she was crying about, but I do know that this song brought her joy.”

I paused before speaking again, not wanting to ruin the moment. “It’s beautiful, James. I never knew your dad wrote music.”

“It was the only song he ever wrote. He told me that when I find someone that I love, I should play it for them. So I did.” My heart leaped when James said that, a few tears dripping down my cheeks in happiness, just for James to brush them away with his fingers. Then, without thinking, I spoke again.

“Imagine if we grow old together. We could be dancing in our own living room to this song.” I didn’t realise what I had said until I saw James’ eyes light up and the biggest smile ever crept up on his face. Without being able to even register what was happening, James got down on one knee and removed the Potter family ring from his finger.

“[Y/N] [L/N], I am here to make anything you can imagine come true. This ring has been in the Potter family for generations and it’s time I give it to you, for you are going to be the next Potter. You make me the happiest man ever and it’s time you know how much you mean to me. I know there’s a war going on outside of Hogwarts, but frankly, I don’t care. I want to be with you forever, through thick and thin, through high and low. If you will let me, I can be your everything. Once we get out of school, we can buy our own little cottage in the countryside like you always wanted. We can wake up next to each other each morning like you always wanted. My darling angel, will you marry me?”

It was perfect. My head was nodding frantically before I even had time to get the words out of my mouth. All I knew was the love of my life on his knee in front of me, ready to take the next step in our lives together.

“Yes, James Potter. I will marry you.”

[wowbright]

Fic: Lift Up Your Head

Klaine Advent 2021: orientation

Words: ~1000 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Blaine has a change of heart.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Advent 2021! This vignette takes place after Can’t You See and before All Creatures Great and Small.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: They are singing Lift Up Your Heads from Handel’s Messiah. If you have any questions (or typos to point out), feel free to use my ask box!

--------

Elder Hummel was right. They needed to ask Chandler to join the Easter choir.

Not to woo Chandler into the congregation. But for Elder Hummel’s sake.

He looked on the edge of giving up as he stood in front of the Easter choir, directing his attention to the whisper-quiet men’s section, trying to coax their voices to the fore.

Blaine could hear the altos and sopranos just fine over his own piano playing, but the men—were they actually even singing?

“Men, I still can’t hear you. I know you’re outnumbered—” the configuration at this particular rehearsal was eleven to three “—but if the ladies hold back a little, and then you really put your lungs into it, I think we can do it. Just pretend Germany’s won the World Cup and belt it out like you would for your team.”

Elder Hummel signaled Blaine to start playing: light on the right hand, heavy on the left to support those manly lungs.

At least Blaine could hear the men this time. Barely, but still.

Elder Hummel tapped on his easel. “Better. Let’s fine-tune that. Take a deep breath, right down to your belly button. And then for the bass, it’s like this—give me the note, Elder Anderson?”

Elder Hummel took a deep breath like he was about to sing. But certainly he couldn’t. The line started an octave below middle C and dropped from there. With Elder Hummel’s upper register going as high as it did, there was no way he could also go that low.

Blaine transposed the note up an octave.

Elder Hummel looked at him, brows furrowed. Whether in confusion or disappointment, Blaine couldn’t discern. “That’s not the note.”

“Oh, um … no, sorry. You want … this one?” Blaine didn’t transpose this time.

“Ah, yes.” Elder Hummel smiled approvingly.

And then he did an amazing thing. He started with that note—that impossibly low note—and filled the room with his voice. Up and down he went, but always staying in this low groove that Elder Hummel shouldn’t possibly have been able to sing because that would make his range what—three octaves?

And if he could sing that low, it shouldn’t sound so good. It shouldn’t give Blaine the same feeling he got when he heard a good cello being played in its lower register, the music curling around his spine and making his scalp tingle.

Blaine shivered.

He looked at the faces of the choir. They looked attentive and impressed. But it was hard to tell if any of them were undergoing the same spiritual ecstasy.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that from me,” Blaine said later, when they’d packed up rehearsal and headed for home.

“Hide what?”

“Your range, Elder Hummel. You can sing every single part in those pieces. Bass, tenor, alto, soprano—”

“Yeah, but that’s mostly falsetto.”

“Better than my falsetto. And better than my bass, for that matter. Are you sure God wants you on a mission and not in the opera?”

“Elder Anderson, you can’t say that kind of thing. It borders on blasphemy.” Still, Elder Hummel didn’t sound completely displeased.

“My priesthood quorum leader said that it’s always okay to ask questions. It’s only answers that get you in trouble.”

Elder Hummel didn’t say anything to that.

“Anyway, I was thinking,” Blaine said.

“Dangerous activity.”

“The men aren’t showing up in consistent numbers for rehearsals, and you’re a better singer than any of them. So why don’t you sing with them? You could do a U-formation like they do in acapella and direct from there.”

“You think so? I thought I should step back. Let the branch members shine.”

“It’s not about who shines. It’s about creating an environment that invites the Spirit. Good music does that. And the music would be better with your voice.”

Elder Hummel seemed to consider. “I’ll pray about it.”

“And the other thing … I think you were right about inviting Chandler. He seems like a guy who does anything he commits to with gusto. And he’s got a nice voice—”

“You just said something complimentary about Chandler!” Elder Hummel nudged Blaine with his elbow.

“I recognize that my initial impressions of him may have been colored by … I don’t know what they were colored by.” Blaine shrugged. He'd thought about it and prayed about it, but the only answer he'd gotten was that he was protective of the individuals he loved. But that wasn't news. And Chandler wasn't that much of a threat, was he? So the only thing that left was ... “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am homophobic.”

Elder Hummel looked at Blaine like he was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “Do you think so? I’ve never felt that from you. At least … I suppose we all have a little homophobia. Even me. I try not to, but ... I think every gay person does, just from not fitting in. So my guess is you have less.”

Blaine wasn’t sure that was a good thing. “I wish you didn’t have any.”

Elder Hummel shrugged.

“You’re perfect as you are.”

“I know,” Elder Hummel said in a tone that showed he really didn’t, but he wanted Blaine to change the subject all the same.

“Okay, if I’m not a homophobe, what else explains it? I just … I disliked him for no reason.”

“I dislike people every single day for no good reason. This church is the only thing that keeps me from running off to a shack in the middle of nowhere to live with twelve sewing machines and a subscription to Vogue as my only companions.”

“You always say you dislike people, but I don’t see it. I think you’re a big softie deep inside.”

Elder Hummel let out a pffft. “Anyway, Chandler can be a tiny bit overwhelming. So I don’t think your initial dislike of him is completely inexplicable. I think we’d had a long day of talking to people already by the time we met him. Plus, maybe he was a little rude to you in showering all his attention on me. Not that I can blame him.” He swooped his hand over his hair like someone prepping for an impromptu photo shoot and flashed Blaine a dazzling smile. “I am rather intriguing.”

“You are,” Blaine said matter-of-factly. “Chandler and I can agree on that, despite our differences in orientation.”

Elder Hummel rolled his eyes.

But Blaine thought maybe he was on to something. Chandler could be hard to swallow, but he wasn’t an alien from another planet. He had at least one thing in common with Blaine—his admiration for Elder Hummel.

That could be a starting point.

[hardkuna]

asmr

› 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 

› 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚍𝚘𝚖/𝚜𝚞𝚋 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜. 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔. 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.  𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘.

› 𝟸𝟼𝟻𝟸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

You’ve always had a fascination with sounds and movements. The gentle rustle of a bag being rummaged through often sent a delicate sensation over your scalp, for example. The sensation was similar to fingers ghostling along your hairline, trailing down the back of your neck and continuing down your spine. If the sound or motion were specific enough, goose flesh would prickle your skin in its wake. With it came serenity - a peacefulness that helped lull you into sleep.

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, or ASMR, is what it was called.

There were, however, some sounds that sent your nerves into a short circuit. Sometimes hearing them would break any attention you’ve devoted to another task, making your thighs squish together ever so slightly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize while listening to the gentle hush of whispers or the light clicks of a tongue over saliva. The sharp trickle of consonants commanded a strum within you in ways you couldn’t fully explain. You’ve tried with previous lovers, asking to wear headphones and lose yourself in a soundscape, but would come to no avail. Many didn’t understand the interest in the first place, let alone sexually.

That was until you met Sakusa.

(Like yourself, he was one to binge video after video of audio, especially while in a crowded space. He didn’t get the same physical response but it did calm him down and distract him in the ways that only ambient, repetitive noise could.)

There were many nights where you’d lay in bed with headphones in and that particular sound would wrap warm tendrils along your senses. The caress on your spine made your muscles twitch with each subtle click. Sakusa often felt the gentle sway of your hips as you rubbed your legs together in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the ache between them. Or he took note of the way you take shallow, shaking breaths, struggling to keep your lungs in control. A dry swallow peppered here and there confirmed his suspicions.

One night, Sakusa decided to find out just what was on your phone to make you so aroused. As he reached over you, nudging your phone screen up, he saw it. An asmr video put on repeat of someone speaking closely into the microphones. They moved from side to side, lips moving in ways unread. He hummed to himself, settling the phone back down. One long arm wrapped around you as he tucked your body into his.

All of it was quite baffling. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that something as mundane as mouth sounds or whispering turned you on? Originally, he wanted to refrain from caressing your form until you brought it up to him. He wasn’t in competition with anything. So long as it made you cum, what did it matter to him what you listened to? But then he recalled the stories. One of your ex’s who belittled your interests. Weaker men, truly.

With a plan in mind, Sakusa came to a resolution.

-

Thumbing through youtube, you aimed to find the perfect video to sleep to. Your back leaned into Sakusa’s chest, comfortably forming to him. There was a peculiar expression he wore, upper lip pursed and brows slightly furrowed. Defensively, you hugged your phone to your chest, cheeks puffing out, “What? What’s that look for?”

“I can do better than them.” His voice vibrated within you, deep and gravely, triggering a sudden chill to lick your core, freezing you in place. The ravenette craned his neck so that his lips rested next to your ear. He let out a little sigh and a small ‘tt’ sound of his lips separating flushed your cheeks.

He scrolled through the videos with you, making small noises as he’d stop at one to read the description and move on. The thing about Sakusa’s hands was that despite the thickness of his lengthy fingers, they moved with a fluid grace. It was bewitching, the smallest sense of comfort and tiredness inching its way into your periphery. Visual triggers were a very specific spell to cast on you.

Small and hushed, you questioned, “Do better in what? Against who?”

Not that you could see from your  vantage point, but you could hear the way his lips pulled back into a smile. Or was it a smirk? “Do better at turning you on. Fucking you,” The syllables swam laps around your left ear. His voice dipped and crackled in just the right way to make your back twitch against him at its call. At the first long release of air form your nose, he pulled the device from your fingers and set it at the night stand. His chest pressed you forward as his muscled arm reached for the light, tapping it to the lowest dim.

The hand now found its home at your mid-thigh, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the bare skin as it danced up, up, up. It pressed on the fabric of your panties at the hip, dragging it slightly before letting it go, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He dropped his tone to a whisper, practically pressing his lips to your ear, “How every night you’ve been denying yourself a simple satisfaction?” The hiss of the ‘s’ and click of each consonant triggered your body to move. You pressed into him, crossing one leg over the other in a squeeze.

Sakusa kept speaking, but of nonsensical words made up of nonsensical syllables. His own breath was heavy, lust lacing each sound as your body rhythmically rolled into his. By the redness in your cheeks and the effort to restrain the swirl of your hips against his, he could tell you were trying to be good for him. It was amusing to see how flustered you got that such simple sounds could make you react in this way. He tsk’d thrice, large palm slinking to and then sinking into your inner thigh. Fingers wrapped hard into the flesh, pulling your leg away from its cross.

The motion alone would have had your cunt clench at nothing, but paired with the low lights and entrancing quality of his tone, you were dripping in anticipation. To make matters more complicated, the arm underneath you began to wrap around. He pressed heavily into your breast and let the warmth of his palm be the only signal for you to tilt your chin up for further purchase of your throat.

You were trapped into him, feeling his cock harden through his sweats at your back. Sakusa muttered into you, “Is this what you’ve wanted?” He hooked your leg around his, propping you open for his fingers to prattle up to the lining of your panties, “For me to whisper close to you? You’ve held back from me, baby. I don’t like that.” The fingers around your throat squeezed at the words and you bit your lip to cage the mewl threatening to leave them.

His forearm pressed into your chest, keeping you locked into place against him. He made it damn well apparent that you were in his control. And god you needed him to stop fucking around! The way he teased with a single finger, so lightly slipping up and down your slit was torturous. Sakusa let a low groan out as he rocked his hips against your ass in time with each teasing slide. He loved the desperate pulse of your heat every time he passed the entrance. He adored your high whine when he just barely touched on your puffy clit. Your body ached in wanton need and suddenly you regretted every night you went without being filled.

Weakly, your left arm wandered up so that dainty fingers slid into black waves lapping at the sands of his neck. He planted a small kiss along your cheekbone. With a bit of a devious streak, his lips carried back to the shell of your ear, where the tip of his tongue languidly traced the curve. His fingers nudged away the fabric of your panties. The pad of his index made circles against the quiver of your entrance. You shuddered in response, mouth opening just enough for a drawn and annoyed moan to escape, “Saa- ah!” The first breath you took, he pulled his finger back, slipping over the nub of nerves begging for his attention. Your sharp change in pitch was music to his ears. An instrument for him to play a tune of pleasure.

All the while, he continued to mutter nonsense into your ear, drowning you with the sounds you craved to engulf you. Your mind swam at each sense slowly being taken by him. His voice filling your mind with filth and praise. His body pressed so tight against yours that his warmth overpowered your own. Even your hands grasped at whatever surface of him they could find. Your existence was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Just how he wanted it to be.

Pleasure snaked into his insides with your grinding hips, his own following their rhythm. Cock twitch angrily, jealous of the finger that swirled still at your entrance. His lungs caught as the sticking sound of slick weeping onto his hand echoed. It was a gentle sound that he wanted to push farther. This was barely all his effort yet.

For as much as Bokuto or Atsumu could brag about getting their lovers to cum as fast and as many times as possible, Sakusa preferred the long and arduous route. He wanted begging. He wanted you so frustrated by your own desires that you couldn’t think of anything other than his cock stretching your gummy walls. He could rut you out from the start, but the way you drew his name out when you were at a breaking point was sheer decadence.

Sakusa was enamored by the beautiful glass sheen of your eyes as he agonizingly pressed the tip of his finger into your heat. You blinked a frustrated tear that clung to your lashes, lips prettily swollen from the abuse of your teeth. You were close, but stubborn. His own sex ached to be in you, his mind caught up in the fantasy of it. He growled, “How do you manage to stay so quiet when you’re swallowing up my fingers? I want to hear you. U-use your words, brat.” His brows twitched as the satisfying throb of you against his fingers.

Frustrated grappled with the words. His composure was crackling. Your mouth fell open at his admission, mind beginning to fog as his finger pressed fully into you, “Oomii,” your whine was throaty, barely squeezing past tense vocal chords, “just, ah- I want- your cock!”

“Where, baby?” The words were made in efficient haste. He would have chuckled when your hips roughly rubbed into his had he not been throbbing to be in you so urgently.

“In me. Now. Please, please,” Your pleading repeated into muddled huffs as his thumb drew circles on your clit. That was the last straw. Desperation drew your hand from his hair and to his pants. Your back arched to accommodate the room as you slinked your hand through his waistband to pull his length out.

In a succinct motion, you wet your hand with saliva, and pumped him twice. A deliciously loud, “Hng!” vaulted past his open lips, which pressed hungered kisses onto your jaw. The hand at your throat now cupped your breast, teasing the sensitive bud in its grasp. His mouth littered violent along the freed and smooth surface. Fingers slipped from your cunt and occupied themselves with your clit instead, tapping lazily, “My pretty baby is so responsive. So sensitive-“ His lips moved along your colored nape.

You shimmied up, aligning him at the entrance and letting go once his tip pressed firmly at your arousal. You couldn’t wait. You didn’t want to wait. Sakusa’s teeth sank into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let you just pull him around. Swiftly, he tugged you on your knees, fingers digging into the crease that thigh made with hip. The tip of his cock eagerly shoved past your twitching entrance. All that teasing, keeping you right at the cusp per his will built to this. Your eyes glazed as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Every small movement felt like a mile slide, sparking fire quick in your core. Legs shook with impatience.

Sure, his composure may have crumbled, leaving behind raw instinct to kiss at your cervix, but he still snapped you back with his movements forward. He still held you up with strong, calloused palms as your legs threatened to collapse. In only a few strokes, your walls clamped down on him, pulling him greedily back for every stroke out. You could feel the nails of orgasm claw its way from your walls to your throat, a beast ready to escape a cage holding it for far too long. Your fist balled the once pristine-pressed sheets beneath you.

Every muscle in your body tense, chaining back what threatened to unleash. Sakusa ran a hand through messied locks, pushing them back to admire the beauty of your blissed out expression. He leaned forward, left hand now entangling in your hair while the right rubbed your clit. He rutted mercilessly into you, a crisp and wet smack then stick filling the four walls around you. You wailed, “C-cum now puh-lease?”

Rough, careful, and managed, Sakusa tugged you onto your hands, leaning over you so only his voice took residence within your mind, “Mhm, but I want to hear you scream.” His breath hitched as you released. Your throat burned with a loud, low, and uncontrolled howl of his name. Every once tensed muscle spasmed so that the only thing keeping you up was the adjusted grip Kiyoomi had on you. From your hair, his arm supported your torso and pulled your back close to his chest in a kneel. He pumped through your orgasm, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as his own body wracked itself free of pent-up pleasure that curled at his stomach. A swallowed hummed filled the space between the two of you as his cock pulsed against your twitching walls, ropes of hot cum coating you from the inside and dripping out as he unsheathed.

Strong arms wrapped around you in an embrace as he flopped onto his back on the bed. Rapid pants conversed back and forth. Reality came back to you in slow pieces, recollecting like shattered porcelain glued by gold. Coming to was always the roughest part, even if the session wasn’t exactly the hardest. Kiyoomi kept his lips on your forehead, deliberately ignoring the sweat trickling on it and the cum spilling onto his thigh and bed. His large hand rubbed circles at your back and in turn, your fingers traced shapes along his chest.

Just as his own mind cleared, he grabbed the phone from the nightstand and clicked on a video he knew you liked. While the audio wasn’t exactly the same without headphones, you both collected your wits to the gentle sounds of wood-surface tapping. When you called his name, peering up through thick lashes, he felt his heart clench. Your voice was soft and filled with exhaustion, “Thank you. I love you. A lot. I mean it. So much.” You cooed at him, mumbling your praise and adoration. He returned each on in some way, whether it be a small “love you too” or a light press of his lips to your temple.

He had a goal to tear down the fear that he’d judge you like the others may have. To you, he not only tore the notion down, he disintegrated it to nothing.

 The thing is, Sakusa Kiyoomi, the man who seldom spoke past commands during sex, just devoted an entire session based on the sound of his voice for you.