#edited because it suddenly started getting a ton of notes and i hated that i mischaracterized pavitr in it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years ago

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The Kind that Never Slows Down | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 10k

✦ summary — Gotham is hit with a spell that changes your perception of Damian forever.

✦ warnings — nsfw, semi-public sex, non-con sex (not really but just to be safe), angst, language, light jealousy, light possessiveness, mentions of food, smut, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), consensual sex, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fluff.

✦ author's note — this one should’ve been published a long time ago, but I just got around editing it. Hope you like it.

════════════════════════

The abandoned building smelled like piss and mold, the only light available entered through a broken window, and you were pretty sure you had heard rats roaming around.

But you didn’t care. Robin’s hands were all over you, plump lips sucking on your neck like his life depended on it as he pounded into you.

It wasn’t enough.

He had skipped foreplay on your insistence. You needed him more than anything, if he didn’t fuck you right there in that moment you wouldn’t be able to survive.

He grunted out of pleasure as you clenched around him, gripping your hips to ground himself as he picked up his already relentless pace.

It still wasn’t enough.

Having his cum down your thighs and marks over your neck from his kisses wasn’t enough either. Your body craved all of him, including his whining and abrasive words.

Noise outside prompted him to part from you completely. Both of you fixed yourselves as best as you could in silence, avoiding looking at the other.

You followed him outside with a sense of guilt hovering over you like a dark cloud. You felt like you had just gotten out of a trance after committing the worst of the crimes.

Nightwing stopped you by yelling, “Where were you? I looked for you two everywhere.”

“We were looking for you,” Robin lied smoothly.

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Well, Zatana undid the spell.”

Suddenly Damian’s urgent voice as he said he needed you made all the sense in the world. His need for you and your need for him had been magic-induced.

Of course it had been! You two were mere acquaintances who fought all the time for the most minimal things in the world or ignored the other to the point of making people around you uncomfortable. It was a surprise that you worked well together at night.

“A lust spell, right?”

“Well, no,” Nightwing chuckled. “According to her, the spell showed people what their heart desires the most.”

Robin stiffened beside you, and you felt every drop of blood drain from your face and fall to your feet.

“Did you hear a lot of people having sex?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Tons of them.”

The moment you got home, you ripped your suit off and walked into the shower. You washed his cum off you, scrubbing your body twice just to make sure.

Wishing the soap could erase the marks on your neck and the memory of the way he had moaned your name, you decided to take a pill to sleep.

You hadn’t needed one of those in months, but Damian was that special. Or annoying.

God, you hated him and his stupid ego. He would surely find funny the lengths you would have to go to put this in the past.

He loved being the center of attention as much as he hated you, that was why you always tried your best to avoid him. When you didn’t avoid him, he made weird faces at you and scoffed every time you laughed.

Turning the lamp off, you hoped for the best.

Meanwhile, Damian ignored Dick’s inquiries. Why did his brother care if he was extremely quiet or if he looked like he was about to explode?

Your scent was all over him, still bewitching him, overpowering his sweat and the smell of everybody around him.

Looking down at his hands, the gloved palms that had hours before gripped and traced as much of your body as your suit had allowed him to, Damian clenched his jaw.

How could he have been so stupid? There was no other reason for you to beg him to fuck you the way you had — magic! He fucking hated magic.

But Dick’s explanation... that was worse. More stupid. He hated it too. His brother had to be wrong.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone from his family was wrong regarding magic, and Zatanna while an expert had her own biases.

Besides, his heart could have been desiring to get off the most just like yours. The two of you were busy people after all.

“Did the spell show you anything, Dami?”

The prettiest face he had seen in his entire life. “A pet demon.”

He regretted the lie the moment he said it. Damian wished a lot of things could be different. His mother would be furious if she knew how sentimental he was becoming, if she found out how often he gave into wishful thinking.

For once, he wanted to be open. But as always something was stopping him. Sometimes he wondered if he had been born to be like that or if his grandfather had simply lied.

Leaving the cave the moment he was dismissed, he trotted upstairs almost praying Dick wouldn’t follow him.

He couldn’t stop replaying the way you clung to him, or the harshness of your kiss. It had felt real, and too perfect to be happening to him all at once.

But you hated him, everybody and their mother knew that.

════════════════════════

Barbara had never been subtle around you. There had never been a need for such a thing — she was like the older sister you never had, you two carried the other’s secrets and burdens.

Back when you met her, barely as a teen, she provided a safe place you only had ever dreamt of having. You vowed to give it all back; she deserved it.

“What’s up with the turtleneck?” She asked, unsubtly so with her bright eyes on your neck.

“I have a cold,” you feigned a rasp. Perhaps this secret wouldn’t be shared.

“Mmmh. Really?” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Dick said Damian was feeling under the weather too.”

Yup. Definitely not sharing. It would be embarrassing. She had always had the theory that you were in love with Damian just because you complained about him on a weekly basis.

It was like she had never met him.

In a way, the theory was correct. But it lacked a lot of details — a spell had confirmed it from all things. It sounded ironic, quite suitable to your situation.

“Flu season, I guess.”

It was a bad lie. Everybody knew when flu season arrived because Tim started getting a stuffy nose and limiting his consumption of Red Bull in order to drink more water.

”Did the spell from the other night show you anything?”

You faked a cough, shaking your head. “I was busy on patrol.”

“I was too and I saw Dick.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, Babs. It’s cute, though.”

Her not seeing Dick would have surprised you. They had known each other for years, gone through so much together... most people wanted what they had.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re lying to me?”

You wrapped your fingers around your mug. The heat transferring from the ceramic to your palm reminded you of Damian’s breath on your lips.

Taking a gulp of coffee, you blinked rapidly. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody saw something. It’s how those spells work.”

“There must be something wrong with me.”

There really had to be something awfully wrong with you. Saying out loud that you wanted Damian more than anything in the world terrified you.

It was a normal thing. Not wanting him specifically, but wanting someone — everybody craved attention and love at some level, you just happened to crave Damian’s at every single one.

He was the problem, not you.

════════════════════════

Movie marathons weren’t something Damian really cared for, but they were better than hearing his father complain about minor things like if he had ruined a goon’s lungs or whatever.

Alfred called it bonding time which he supposed was a fair assessment. He found Tim’s taste in movies quite good, and now he didn’t get the urge to strangle his slightly older brother in his sleep.

His stepmother was there too. Selina had been the reason why Bruce shifted his ways, she urged him to either find a balance or stop adding people to the team.

Duke made him pass a bowl of popcorn to Tim who did the same to Stephanie. The bowl landed on Dick who was on the row behind them, just next to Jason.

Getting more comfortable on his seat, his eyes fell on the empty spot to Duke’s right. Cassandra used to sit there until one afternoon Duke couldn’t seem to shut up and she asked you to switch places. You always went with the things Duke said, sometimes even asked his opinion.

Damian complained once, telling his sister to suck it up next time. But Cassandra would never do something he told her to, that was perhaps why she was his favorite.

Everyone around him was in an amazing mood which he didn’t understand. Bruce had just tried to tell a joke, and Jason was mocking how dumb it was.

Selina laughed loudly, in that way people did when they felt genuinely happy. At least that was what he supposed; Damian wasn’t sure he had ever experienced happiness.

The sound of an approaching wheelchair made his ears perk up. Not a single pair of shoes could be heard against the floor. Fighting a frown, he turned to look at the door.

Barbara waved at all of them with a smile, maneuvering her wheelchair to sit next to Dick’s seat. Craning his neck with the excuse of saying hi, Damian watched her give Dick a chaste kiss.

“Where’s (Nickname)?” Dick asked, lifting his arm to rest it on the back of Barbara’s chair.

“She said she was feeling sick. Although...” Barbara giggled, leaning onto Dick’s arm. “I heard the voice of a guy in the background so she might have company.”

Damian felt sick upon hearing such a thing. First, you had asked to be paired up with Duke for patrol and now this? It was too much even for your pettiness — granted, he had planned on putting more distance between you two, but he hadn’t gone around trying to find someone to erase you.

The thought never crossed him, not for a single moment. He had wondered why he wished to cling to a memory when he had never been the sentimental type, but he realized that to be the entire point of deep desires.

“Well, it’s time,” Stephanie commented, “she’s been single for too long.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to scare him off,” Selina added.

Damian stood up from the now uncomfortable seat, forcing Duke to do the same so he could leave. Duke stared at him weirdly, with worry, as if he knew something Damian didn’t want him to.

He probably did. Damian had been careless two times in a row. God, he needed to get a fucking grip. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the neck of his sweater.

“Oi,” Jason called for him, “where are you going?”

“Out,” he answered angrily. “If other... members... may skip this, why can’t I?”

Barbara and Dick shared a sideways glance.

Only telling Alfred that he would be back later, Damian followed the path towards the garage. Skipping his bike for once, finding himself thinking he wanted to take as little shortcuts as possible for whatever reason, he took his car.

Damian had always been a fan of driving. He didn’t know why, it was tedious and didn’t serve many purposes in the grand scheme of things; not to him. Ever since he learned, he took every opportunity he got to drive whichever vehicle he could get his hands on.

Having control over vehicles and machines was nice, he supposed. If people were a little bit more like said things, everything would have been easier. The world would be boring, but easier to habit.

Saving people was easy, caring about them from afar gave him enough human interaction for his standards, but he would never understand them.

And for the first time since he tried to decode his mother’s attitude, he wanted to understand someone more than anything. Perhaps that way said someone would understand him back and untangle this mess.

The building before him wasn’t welcoming. He had never put foot into that place, but he knew every single person that lived there — patrol gave him that kind of knowledge. And he did some research months ago, but no one needed to be aware of such thing.

He pressed his ear to the door he had been looking for. The dishwasher was on, but he couldn’t pick up any other sound. Damian knocked on said door three times, quickly and loudly. There was no answer so he did it again. A door slammed shut inside the apartment, a groan accompanied by a string of curses got clearer as stomps approached him.

Standing tall and straight, he felt a thrill down his spine as the lock was loudly fiddled with.

You swung the door open, rubbing your eye. He observed you had thrown a turtleneck on, upside down. Damian walked past you without invitation, analyzing the living room.

There were no clothes scattered all over the floor like he had imagined he would find.

“What are you doing here?”

He ignored you, exploring the kitchen. Damian opened the fridge, narrowing his eyes as he inspected. He did the same with the cupboards.

Shoving your bedroom door open, he found the bed undone. The TV was on, playing an old movie. He heard your steps as you followed him, repeating your question.

“Is someone from the team in danger?” You asked next.

Damian pulled your closet open, tilting his head. You could’ve been more organized, he admitted to himself, but there was nothing unusual.

Craning his neck to look at you, he inquired, “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?! What’s going on?”

He stared at you, waiting for you to crack. To his surprise, you stared back — defiant, blinking less and less as the seconds passed.

You were mad, he could tell. It only made him grow more suspicious. Tensing under your eyes, sharp instead of soft like they usually were, he scoffed; he couldn’t show he cared.

“Dude,” you insisted, “you are scaring me. What happened?”

Shaking his head, he pushed past you again and continued his search. The bathroom was warm, the mirror fogged up and tiles sprinkled with drops of water.

He turned around, watching you again. Well, your hair was wet now that he paid more attention to it...

Damian checked in the small laundry room too, but he found bottles of detergent and folded towels next to your suit. Nothing else. No one else.

“Damian—“

“Shut up.” He pointed at you with a finger.

“You are the one who came to my place to look for whatever or whoever you are searching for! Unprompted!”

He didn’t answer.

You went back to your bedroom to turn the TV off and pause the movie, resigned to the fact that he had ruined your self-care day.

No one knew you would be home that day. You had ignored everybody’s calls and avoided being active on social media just in case they were stalking you. Turns out the utmost secrecy isn’t enough to avoid Damian Wayne.

He stood in the living room, looking down at the coffee table as if expecting the furniture to turn into something else. Fixing his eyes on the centerpiece he knew Dick had given you as a gift because it reminded him of you, Damian furrowed his brows.

“Have you been alone the entire day?” He asked, feeling your presence behind him.

“My neighbor brought some cake. Other than that, yeah.”

“Barbara said you had... company.”

“I haven’t talked to Babs in days.”

Barbara had continued asking about what you saw that night with the spell, and you weren’t willing to say it still. Weeks had passed, but it felt like mere seconds had at times. It was so easy for her to ask, to assume things.

Only you knew the conflict you were feeling. She would never understand how awful it was to find out the one you desire the most is the one who likes you the least.

You had entertained the naive idea that he was in the same position, but the more you replayed what had happened, the more you convinced yourself it had been one-sided. He gave in because the release was pleasant, nothing else. People say things they don’t mean while having sex.

You had done it before, for fuck’s sake. You had faked having a good time before, who was to say Damian hadn’t done the same with you?

“Have you seen anybody else?” He blurted.

“My neighbor, I told you.”

He reformulated, “Have you had sex with anybody else?”

You considered lying, you really did. It would make the tension go away, you would have to see him around with other people but it would save you from a lot of embarrassment.

A part of you told you it was stupid, that you wouldn’t be able to take it. Much less when the people who usually took some interest in you tended to ghost you for whatever reason.

“Not since that night, if that’s what you’re asking,” you admitted.

“Good.” It slipped, but he didn’t care. He meant it, and it felt nice to say things he meant, no matter how harsh they could sound.

You rounded the room, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “Why are you here?”

“I was told you had company,” he repeated himself.

“And your logic was to interrupt me?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t believe him. Did he want you to be alone and miserable your entire life?

The worst part was that you would probably be. Finding out you liked him, that you wanted to have him around, that you craved his attention, and his touch, rocked your world and shattered it.

Who would ever compare to him? His flaws were other people’s better qualities, even you who didn’t know his good side that well was aware of that.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never done anything to you!”

He finally lifted his head. You wished he hadn’t, you wished you didn’t have to see anything other than anger in his handsome features. “I don’t hate you. I would make your life a living hell if I did.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” you chuckled, way more sadly than you thought yourself capable to feel regarding anything that came from him. “You roll your eyes at me every time I visit your house, Damian.”

“It’s not intended at you.”

“The scoffs sure are,” you reproached him, “and your stupid comments of how unfunny anything that makes me laugh is.”

“It’s not because of you,” he shouted. Shaking his head, vexed, he twisted his mouth as he huffed his anger out through his nose. “Cassandra’s jokes aren’t even that funny.”

“See?”

“Why don’t you laugh at mine?” He reproached now, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Why is it always one of my siblings or my friends who get a positive response but not me?”

“Oh, come on! You’re saying that like I didn’t come by hearing you say my name a few weeks ago!” Your words stunned him into silence which you used to your advantage. “You never tell jokes in front of me, how am I supposed to laugh at them? I always feel like shit because you only accept being around me on patrol, you entrench yourself in your room and make a point to slam the door shut just so I hear... you know what? Forget it.”

“I hate seeing you with them,” he said, wishing his words hadn’t carried that much emotion. “I always bribe people to not ask you out or to leave you alone, I have to watch you hug Jon and kiss my siblings’ faces. You’re always so damn nice until I appear... I prefer being alone than enduring your indifference.”

You widened your eyes. “You bribe people to not ask me out?!”

“Is that the only upsetting part from everything I said?” he snapped.

“No, no. Of course not. I just...”

He hummed. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“A waste of money, honestly.”

“If I didn’t, you would be with someone else right now. Probably Duke, you’ve always liked him.”

“You bribed Duke?” You let a small laugh out. “Duke? Our Duke?”

“Yes! Stop mocking me.”

“Duke knows everything, you know?” You admitted, uncrossing your arms.

You hadn’t been able to keep things to yourself for that long. Seeing Damian around suddenly hurt. The feeling had always been there, but finding out that he was your heart’s deepest desire wrecked your perception

When you told Duke, he reacted casually, as if you had told him the most obvious thing in the world. He said you and Damian were the only ones who hadn’t seen it.

“He knew certain things before I did, in fact,” you added. “Besides, I see him as a brother and he sees me as a sister.”

Damian nodded. It made sense, now Duke’s attitude seemed normal in comparison to what Damian had assumed.

He always assumed things. Bruce had told him once that he needed to learn to ask before acting out — this was the first time Damian found his father’s words useful.

“Why did you kiss me that night?”

“I believe it was more than kissing.”

“Yes.” Damian hadn’t been able to forget, he never would. “But why?”

“I felt... I don’t know how to explain it,” you confessed.

The room suddenly felt small, extremely hot. You shed the stupid turtleneck, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the stubborn marks on your neck.

Make-up had hidden them well for a few days, and most of them had faded already, but there were two bite-marks, too big and deep, that needed more healing time.

“I was scared,” you told him, “that’s why I felt the rush to take your hand. And it was enough for a while, but then it wasn’t, I wanted you closer.”

“I couldn’t breathe. I assumed I was being poisoned. Then you took my hand and I panicked for a moment, I thought...” his voice broke.

You gave him time, trying your hardest to hide how surprised you were by hearing him like that.

“I thought you were having the same symptoms,” he rasped. “I’ve been trained to fight those things off, but you haven’t and I knew you would die. Your hand made it better for a few minutes, then I needed you closer too.”

“We can forget about it if you want,” you assured him, avoiding looking at his face in case your comment relieved him.

“I don’t.”

Damian reached for your hand in the same fashion you had that cursed —literally— night, shakily, urgently.

And in the same fashion he had, you allowed him to take it.

He brought you closer to him. You observed he looked more tired than ever, perhaps because things had been tense for the past weeks. You couldn’t have possibly looked too different.

“The spell doesn’t have to dictate this,” he said, tilting his head to look into your eyes. “It won’t. You know I don’t trust magic.”

“The spell is not the problem,” you whispered.

“I didn’t think there was a problem.”

“We have never spent time together outside of patrol, Damian.”

He sighed, nodding. “Get changed. Let’s go out.”

Only a lunatic would give their self-care day up for a guy. Well, you didn’t really care if people thought you were a lunatic, and Damian wasn’t just a guy — still, giving up the ice cream in your fridge was a sin.

A sin you were happy to commit.

Damian waited for you to get changed, patiently if anyone asked you. It had taken you a few minutes to even choose something appropriate, based on his own outfit because that was just logic.

He slipped his cellphone into his pocket while you locked the door. As you turned around to take off, he offered his hand.

You took it, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hallway. In the middle of the stairway, you bumped into one of your neighbors who smiled sweetly at both of you. To your surprise, Damian smiled back.

Also surprised to discover he hadn’t taken his bike, you bowed as a thank you when he opened the door of his car for you.

“Do you want to put some music on?” he offered.

“You pick,” you said, curious as to what he would play.

You could’ve sworn he was nervous as he stared down at his phone, looking for something to play. He scrolled down, then up — he switched apps, then continued scrolling.

“I’m not picky.” Your tone was soft, an attempt to assure him.

“I don’t really listen to a variety of genres.”

“What do you listen to the most?”

“Classical. My mother got me used to it.”

You rested the side of your head on the backrest of the seat, looking at him. “You can play that if you want. Or we can just talk about the weather and whatnot. I think it might rain tonight. You like rain, right?”

He locked his cellphone, turning to face you. “Yes. It calms me.”

“I hated it as a kid,” you disclosed, hoping it would ease the tension and better his mood. “I was scared of thunderstorms.”

Igniting the engine, he prompted you to continue, “Not anymore?”

“No. My mom used to tell me that the only reason why they were so noisy was that the sky was happy to unwind and eventually I believed it.”

“That’s cute.”

“I had a phase in which I was in a bad mood if it didn’t rain.” You laughed at your own comment. “Now I like it just fine, less obsessively.”

“I had a similar fixation with snow.” He laughed too, and your stomach did somersaults — it was the first time you had heard him laugh genuinely.

Damian didn’t talk about life at The League often, he didn’t feel compelled when he knew the preconceptions that came with simply mentioning the place or his maternal family.

In fact, everything Batman Inc.’s members knew had been from Bruce. He liked the secrecy, those were parts of him and no one else. But he was willing to share tiny pieces with you.

He saw it as something supposed to be shared between two people interested in starting a relationship.

So he continued, “I would only climb mountains if they were covered by snow. My mother called me a brat many times, but she gave into my wishes for a while.”

“How did you grow out of it?”

“I broke my elbow.” He briefly looked to the side and then took a turn. “I proved her right, and I didn’t like not having the last word so I started despising the snow. I don’t mind it now.”

Before you could ask anything else, he pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot.

He picked a basket once inside the store, making a motion for you to follow him.

“What are we buying?”

“Fruit and whatever you want for a picnic.”

Realizing you weren’t near the fruits aisle, you gripped his sweater, steering him to the other side. Of course he wasn’t used to doing groceries.

He silently allowed you to guide him which was a win, Damian hated being told what to do no matter how small the suggestion was.

It didn’t take either of you too long to get everything you needed, but he spent ten minutes choosing a blanket as if he wouldn’t ruin the poor thing with mud and insects.

Passing the clothing area on your way to do checkout, you elbowed him on the side. He stared down at you, then followed your eyes as he realized they were fixed on something.

Damian groaned. “You’re so funny.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you wouldn’t buy Batman underwear?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

You narrowed your eyes, keeping your laugh in when you saw what resembled a pout on his face. “Robin’s?” you tried.

“Perhaps.”

You lost it at that. “Are they comfy?”

“Will you stop laughing if I say yes?”

“Only if it’s the truth.”

He just nodded, then did the gesture upward so you would resume the path towards the exit.

Pleased with his answer, you walked towards the checkout line. Damian stood behind you, breathing your scent in.

“Is that a new perfume?”

You craned your neck. “How did you know?”

Shrugging, hoping he was being nonchalant enough, he said, “I have a good nose.”

After a brief fight over who would pay for the groceries, —which he won by saying it had been his idea—, you left the store in direction of the park.

Your hand found his naturally, as if your palm’s place was to be pressed against his bigger one.

It felt good, but not really because of that bullshit —true, but bullshit still when magic was so unpredictable— of him being what your heart desired the most. The truth was that you could feel in his grip how much he wanted this to go well.

Swinging your clasped hands, you walked around the park, looking for the perfect spot to sit at.

You found a spot away from the kids running around, against a tree. Damian laid the blanket on the grass, placing the paper bags onto it next.

He slid an arm around your shoulders, using his other hand to eat.

“Do you think your family is already spying on us?” you asked gazing at him as you leaned onto his arm.

“I am certain.”

“You don’t mind?”

He lightly smiled at you, reaching for a strawberry. “Not at all. Do you?”

“Nah. I’m not looking forward to Barbara’s teasing, though.”

“Why did she tell us you had a guy over?” He bit down into the fruit.

“She has always said I have feelings for you.” You wiped the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It never occurred to either of you that you would need napkins. “And I guess she put two and two together when we covered our necks and used the same excuse.”

“In my defense, I could have blamed Tim.”

“In my defense,” you copied his smart-ass tone, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You told Duke from all people.”

“Duke was supportive.”

Damian hummed sarcastically. “I’m sure everybody knows the details already. He loves to gossip.”

Seeing you frown before you turned to look to the other side, he reached for your farthest cheek, softly pushing your face so you would stare at him.

“I don’t care if they know.”

You wished you could have believed him. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have avoided me the same way I avoided you.”

“I cared,” he clarified, “not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Me, my priorities… my vision of you, of this.”

You took an apple in your hand. Rolling the fruit in your grasp, you only nodded. Saying something else would have been nice, appropriate even, but words escaped you.

The fact that he didn’t hate you was still pretty new, shocking to some extent. His willingness to be seen with you by family and strangers alike was a huge compliment, and a big deal.

It was too serious so suddenly… you liked it no matter how scary it was. There had to be a reason why he felt so sure about this, and trusting Damian had never been a bad idea.

Except from that time when you ended up with stitches all over your arm, but you could let that go if it meant having him by your side. As corny as it sounded.

“Meetings will be weird, won’t they?” You sunk your teeth into the apple, hearing him chuckle.

“Less awkward, I hope. Although I enjoy vexing my siblings.”

“We can have fake fights in front of them if you want.”

“And blame them for our nonexistent problems?”

“Of course, I’m sure they will try to give their input either way.”

Damian groaned. He feared just that. It would be out of a place of care, he knew, but it didn’t make it less intrusive — he could picture Dick, sitting down in front of him in the cave, with a big smile and dangling his finger as he told him the way he was supposed to treat you.

He liked to imagine that Cassandra would only threaten him. Perhaps Stephanie would do the same and stop Tim from patronizing him.

Not wanting to ruin the moment by thinking what would Jason and Duke do, he shifted and changed the subject to the movie you had been watching earlier.

You explained that it had been one of your favorites and told him the plot between bites, amused by the fact that he was trying to look interested even though you knew it wasn’t his type of movie.

He told you about the movies the team was supposed to watch that day. You didn’t feel guilty for skipping; as much as you loved them, you needed time for yourself.

Spending time with Damian on this occasion counted as time for yourself, although you would make yourself clear to him that you would eventually need alone time for real. It was a mere exception.

The two of you walked around the park for a while, talking about random things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you tried, and God did you try.

It couldn’t get better than hearing him speak casually, about the architecture nearby and the types of flora around the park, in a light tone and with his hand in yours.

Your fingers played with his, and once again you found yourself in awe of him, of how comfortable he was with the mindless gesture and his willingness to keep up with it. You doubted someone would ever surprise you as much as Damian did.

Slowing down a little bit to take the scenery in, you naturally tightened the grip of your fingers on his.

It was such a nice day to be outside… perhaps the weather cast had been wrong and it wouldn’t rain.

The city was bathed in a pink glow as the sun set, unrecognizable. No one would have guessed such scenery to take place in a deeply violent and corrupted place, not even the most optimistic person in the world.

You remembered clearly how surprised Jon had been the first time he saw something other than thundering rain and gray skies in Gotham.

Glittering under the sunlight, the flowers at the end of the playground looked alive for once as the sky stunned many around you. And when you turned to look at Damian, curious about his reaction, you found his eyes solely on you.

The trees, so green under the light of dusk, had nothing on Damian’s eyes. Such thought, so familiar that you felt as though it wasn’t the first time it crossed your mind, so natural that you found it a fact and not an opinion, made you forget about everything around you.

He continued gazing at you, finding the curiosity in your beautiful eyes flattering. Oh, how much he enjoyed being the object of your attention.

The scenery behind you was gorgeous, he was certain of it. In his opinion, you complimented the view in ways nothing would ever do — there was something in your peaceful semblance as you tore your gaze off the sky and admired him instead.

You could’ve been sharing a silent moment with the strangers around you, one of those things he had heard you say once made the world make sense, yet your eyes were on him, on his face. And it made him feel important like nothing before had.

His father’s praises, the ones he had sought for so long were nothing in comparison. Dick’s patience although fundamental to his development as a man fell short against the way your eyes were shining for him.

Twilight swirled around you, but his eyes never left your face nor yours did his. The world didn’t exist, and if it existed, then it didn’t matter — not when you found him worth all your attention, not when he thought you to be brighter than the sun itself.

The air in the car as he drove you back to your place was thick and tense. He hadn’t said a word since he told you about that time Bruce inaugurated the school across the park.

Damian looked lost in thought, like often you had seen him while out on patrol. The places his mind took him had never compromised his performance — you admired that.

Bruce had called him out an infinite amount of times, but he couldn’t do anything else when Damian always delivered. You had wondered how he did it many times, but now you had to assume Talia taught him.

He walked you into the building, fingers brushing your wrist as you fell in natural silence.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him lean onto the wall just next to your door. You took more time than needed to open the door, hoping he would say or do something.

When he didn’t, you pushed the door open and turned on your heel to face him.

“I had an amazing day with you,” he said, eyes on yours.

You breathed out, “I did too.”

Why couldn’t the day last longer? You logically knew you would see him again, but something inside you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to stay, better said.

Would it be too bold, too sudden, to invite him in? He probably had patrol that night — hell, you were supposed to be getting into your suit at that moment instead of pondering on whether you were brave enough to imply you wanted to spend more time with him; preferably in your room, naked.

Fuck it. If he said no, you would say you had patrol either way.

“Do you want to co—“

“Yes,” he answered before you could finish the question, letting a relieved sigh out.

You pulled him into the apartment, arm around his neck as you used your other hand to close the door.

His lips fell on yours as he kissed you slowly, arms delicately around your plump form. He took his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong.

Damian grew confident as you attempted to kiss him more firmly, as steadily as your giddiness allowed you to. Tasting the fruit he had eaten earlier off his tongue, you wrapped your other arm around his torso, bringing him closer.

Smiling on your lips, he angled his face, kissing you with the same urgency he had the other night.

Eagerly, he tangled his tongue with yours until both of you were panting in search of air. As you caught your breath, Damian fiddled with the ends of your turtleneck.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Can I take this off? It’s getting in the way.”

“I can take it off—“

“I would like to do it, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Damian slid the turtleneck off you slowly, huffing a small laugh when the blouse you were wearing under inched up. Placing the item to the side, he leaned to kiss your jaw.

Placing your hands on his sides, you slanted your head upon feeling his lips travel down to your neck.

He kissed the bite-mark left from before, softly, giving it small pecks. “Did I go overboard with this one?”

“A little bit. It’s been a pain in the ass to cover.”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, leaving more light kisses over the area.

Your pulse quickened at the implication of his words. Damian felt the rush of blood on your jugular where he scattered wet kisses.

He trailed his lips up, breathing in your ear. You shuddered, fighting a whine as your hands looked for the hem of his crewneck sweater.

You inched the sweater up to his chest and waited for him to stand straight so you would be able to take it off. Damian was too busy kissing your face to care.

“Hey,” you did whine this time. “Damian, let me take it off.”

Smirking on your cheek, he hummed. Slowly, painfully so, he pulled away from you.

Once you had gotten rid of the sweater, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He curled his arm around you again, wanting you flush against him.

He slid his hand down and took a handful of your ass, making you buckle your hips up. Dragging his lips to your jaw again, he said, “Your stupid suit didn’t let me do that last time.”

One of your hands stayed on his shoulder while the other landed on his hip. Your fingers played with the loops of his jeans as he continued gripping and grabbing your ass like he had never touched one.

Angling your face, you attached your lips to his neck. Damian’s grip on you tightened.

“I want to take it slow,” he whispered, “but you’re making it really hard.”

“Metaphorically?” You mouthed his throat, hand sliding down to his chest, squeezing itself between both your bodies.

“And literally,” he whined. You loved the sound, for once not demanding yet still bratty.

As your hand slipped downward, you continued kissing his neck, paying special attention to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You hoped your lipstick wouldn’t dirty his shirt — or maybe you hoped it would, both were fine with you.

Damian put some space between you, understanding what you were trying to do. While you undid his jeans, he undid yours, considering it would be better to get rid of everything on his way now that he was still feeling patient.

Shoes and socks off, the two of you shed your jeans without care of where they landed. Now the living room’s floor truly was covered in scattered items of clothing and this time Damian enjoyed the view.

“Come here.” He reached for you, eyes on your chest as his hands ghosted your sides.

You looked up at him, unable to hide the enjoyment you got from his hungry eyes being all over you. Following their movements, you also observed their slow dilatation.

He inched a hand up your side. You assumed he would finally knead your breast but he merely ghosted its outline, head tilted as he watched his own hand move.

For a few moments, he only did that, almost as if he was in a trance. The warmth of your own palm on his lower abdomen as your fingers brushed the elastic of his boxers made him react.

You pushed him back, towards your bedroom, pulling the door open and shoving him inside. He smiled, lifting his arms in mock surrender.

Damian sat down on your bed, relishing into the smell of everything you owned — the bedding smelled like a mix of fabric softener and your delicious new heady perfume.

You got the urge to kiss his entire face, hands on his shoulders as he slanted his head back for you to do it comfortably. He relished on the gesture too, so spontaneous and warming.

He placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, urging you to straddle him. Watching you second guess yourself, he drew you closer to encourage you.

Giving a last kiss to his nose, you complied. Damian snaked his arms around your waist, a pleased smile pressing against your chin before he kissed your mouth.

You bit his lip, tugging on it. He crashed his lips against yours again just to then do the same himself, intentionally bitting harder than you had.

A moan escaped you. Feeling his cock twitch under your navel, you rocked your hips to watch his reaction.

His arms tightened around you as he tutted against your core. “This is the reason why I never train with you,” he groaned.

“I thought it was because I almost broke Tim’s leg once.”

“Don’t mention anyone else right now.”

Right. You had forgotten he had been jealous earlier.

Damian rolled over, switching places with you. He kissed you before you could pout, cradling your face with one hand while he held himself up with the other.

You placed a hand on his upper back while the other rested on the side of his neck, kissing him back with the same amount of passion he was kissing you.

He had you breathless in a matter of seconds, and as he broke the kiss, you saw his nostrils flare in attempts to catch his breath quickly.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he dropped his hand to your breast. This time he kneaded it, humming against your skin when you reacted with a small sound. His thumb brushed your nipple, playing with it while he busied himself with leaving marks on your chest.

So much for being careful, huh. At least those were easier to hide.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asked bluntly.

“If you’re in the mood.”

He kneeled on the bed, hooking his thumbs in your panties to slide them down. You lifted your hips to help him out, laughing when he threw your underwear behind him with little care.

You opened your legs for him, finding a comfortable position as he stayed there, taking all of you in, completely naked and at his mercy.

He kissed your thighs first, teasingly nibbling on them. Every time he got closer to the center, to where now you needed him instead of only wanting him, he pulled away and went back to your thigh.

Slowly, he dragged his index finger up and down your folds. Damian rested his chin on your right thigh as he watched his finger collect and smear your wetness, proud of the fact that he was the one who had made you wet. No one else.

Your breath hitched in expectant excitement as you saw him finally bury his head between your thighs. His tongue followed the same path his finger had outlined, at the same rhythm.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he praised, licking his bottom lip clean.

As he gradually increased his rhythm, licking long stripes along your folds, you got bolder and urged him to be firmer by pushing your hips upward.

He moaned against your pussy, playfully sucking your labia to let you know he got the message.

Bringing an arm up to pin your hips back down, he used his other hand to open your legs a little bit more and part your labia.

Damian pressed his tongue on your clit, moving it gently at first. He wanted to know exactly what you liked and how. It didn’t take him long to switch between using his lips and his tongue which earned him a loud moan.

His hand caressed your thigh, eventually sliding between the mattress and your body to grab your asscheek.

You whined his name, reaching down to hold the back of his head. It was clear to you that he was enjoying every sound he managed to make you blurt, and it felt really good, but you needed more.

Out of nowhere, he tugged on your hips to slide you down the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he sucked fervently on your clit.

You fisted the duvet, begging him to keep going. Damian complied happily, mouth latched on your clit as your pussy swallowed his moans and the four walls of your bedroom made yours bounce.

They were music to his ears and his entire body. He could feel the tingling all over him, excitement and pride flowing through his bloodstream.

Massaging your ass, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon feeling both your hands on his head now. He allowed you to push his face farther in, not once slowing down.

Your hips bucked up and instead of restraining you, he moved with you. If you moved up he did down and vice versa. You got louder and he marveled at how responsive you were to him.

He growled, gripping your ass with force as he sucked on your clit until his cheeks were hollow. He let go only to repeat the motion, letting his tongue wander when he needed a break.

You tugged on his hair, squealing. Your body tensed in his grasp, prompting him to continue with his ministrations. Feeling the tremor in your legs as you tried to settle back down on the bed, he started lapping tenderly.

You caressed his hair, panting with your eyes closed. Damian lifted his head, hands softly dancing over your thighs as he stood up.

Feeling him hover over you, you opened your eyes albeit with a little difficulty. His mouth and chin glistened with your slick, wanton eyes inspecting your semblance.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you rasped before clearing your throat.

He caressed your sweaty cheek. “Later.”

“Bu—“

He shut you up with a kiss. “Later, please? I just want to be inside you.”

Nodding against him, you kissed him again. Tasting yourself off his tongue was addictive. You held him still for a moment, licking your slick off his gorgeous face.

Damian growled, deep and loud this time, hands already on your waist. “Should I wear a condom this time?”

“No. Unless you want to?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want a single thing to keep him from feeling you fully. Damian stood from the bed. “Get on all fours.”

You rolled on your side first to then do as he had told you, holding your breath as you waited for him to stand behind you.

He rested a hand on your hip. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you gave him your consent.

Damian entered you slowly, little by little, less worried about hurting you and more about making you feel every inch of him as his cock filled you.

You breathed out through a whine. He gave you time to adjust to his size, leaning to kiss the scar on your back.

Wanting to stay like that forever, you waited more than you should have to. If he was aware, he decided to be patient — such thing only made you grow wetter.

“Go ahead,” you told him, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

Reaching over, he gripped your hands. “You feel amazing, beloved.” He kissed your shoulder, nibbling on your skin as he rocked his hips.

God, you didn’t know if his comment had been what flattered you or the pet name. Either way, hearing them was as amazing as the way he felt inside you, filling you like no one before him had.

His hands left yours. He opted for placing them firmly on your hips and thrust into you steadily, keeping you from moving too much.

Humming in pleasure, you held the edge of the bed in anticipation. He went faster exponentially, calculating every single one of his thrusts.

Having control over his thrusts and the movement of your hips was nice and all, but he needed you closer.

Slapping your thigh, he croaked out, “On your back.”

You missed his girth the second he parted from you so you could change positions, it made you feel empty.

Damian helped you get comfortable, holding your thighs open before you got the urge to rub them. He smirked when you glared at him, hand leaving one of your legs to hold his cock.

He penetrated you again, bottoming out immediately as he made himself comfortable on top of you.

“Fuck, Damian!”

His hips snapped forward involuntarily. Both of you moaned at the same time, he pushed against your g-spot and you throbbed around him.

His movements were rougher like this, wilder. It was as though he wanted to prove a point to himself, you didn’t know which and you didn’t care as long as he fucked you like he needed to be inside you in order to be complete.

“Say my name again,” he rasped the command.

And how could you deny him? You repeated his name as many times as your moans allowed you like a broken chant.

Damian’s pace got quicker every time he heard his name fall from your lips, a tad uneven as he allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure the mix of everything was bringing him — your walls gripping his cock, your hoarse moans and the angelic way honey dripped from your voice when you called for him.

You dragged your nails all over his back, moaning and whimpering in his ear. He was so loud in your own ear, saying things in Arabic that you couldn’t understand in such a fervent tone that you weren’t sure if you would come because he was fucking you into oblivion or because of his strained voice.

Hearing your name slip in his prayer-like monologue, you cried out upon feeling your stomach get tighter. You clung to his shoulders, letting him ram into you in unsteady thrusts that went from slow to hammering in seconds.

His tongue slipped, Damian started switching between languages. Grip on you tightening to the point of being bruising, he begged, “I need you to come first, please. I— shit.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his hips, clenching around him.

You threw your head back, arching up to meet his latest thrust as your orgasm flew through you. Distantly, you processed a few of the sounds you were making and some of the ones you were elating from him.

Strings of hot cum covered your walls. He growled on your skin, saying your name and something you couldn’t really understand.

You let him ride off his orgasm inside you, hearing the mess he was making as the wet sounds from your slick and his cum mingled. His mouth covered yours in a tired kiss, lazy and with a hint of the tenderness he had put to the side even though his intentions had been different.

Once the two of you had caught your breaths and he had made an even bigger mess, you pulled the bedding off the mattress and threw everything into the washing machine.

He was all over you as the two of you shared a shower, so close that scrubbing off took you way longer than it should have.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. You were too happy to complain about his annoying little antics that you couldn’t wait to get used to.

”Should we suit up?” You asked him, watching the water drip down his chest like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“They can manage without us for a night.”

“You want to skip patrol?”

Drying his arms, he copied your tone, “You don’t want to spend more time alone with me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied immediately. “But you love patrol.”

He stood still, somewhat stiff in front of you. “Not enough, it seems.”

You dropped the topic at that and went on with drying your body.

He only put his underwear back on while you slipped a pair of panties and a t-shirt, awkwardly trying to find something to change the topic.

“Do you want some ice cream? I have a tub in the freezer.”

“Sounds good.”

A nice moment you shared, silently eating ice cream. He sat close to you the entire time, brushing your side.

It felt natural, as though you were supposed to be doing that and not anything else. Patrol could wait, and his family, and your friends, and the entire world.

The world stopped so you two could enjoy the moment, the day. Or perhaps it didn’t and you just couldn’t bring yourself to give this up for it — but he couldn’t either and that meant everything to you.

Damian never skipped patrol, he hadn’t done it in the worst moments of his life and you never expected to see the day in which he would find something more worthwhile.

You found a clean sheet for the bed in the laundry room which saved you from having to squeeze yourself with Damian on the couch. Maybe it was time to get a bigger one.

He rested his head on your stomach, cheek against your belly as he looked up at you. You could tell he wanted to say something, his brow was ever so slightly furrowed, and his eyes seemed clouded by a thought. He looked pretty nonetheless.

He traced his fingers over your thigh, drawing little doodles. You could make some up by feel — a flower, a bat, his name, a few stars, his name again, an R inside a circle, a heart, his name for the third time.

“I think I would’ve broken my oath to my father if you had had someone over.”

You slid your hand off his hair to caress his cheek, too worried to hide your frown. Damian took his promises and oaths seriously, more seriously than anything else. You had seen his family use said thing against him.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” you tried to reason with him. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Would you have gotten mad at me?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It would’ve depended on a lot of things. Without context, obviously, but...” Realizing you were about to make up excuses for something that hadn’t even happened, you decided to ask, “Why are you still thinking about that?”

“I don’t want you to forget about me. Ever.”

“Are you planning to say goodbye or something of sorts?”

“No!” He glared at you for even considering such a thing to be a possibility after everything the two of you had talked about, after everything you had made him feel. ”But I...” Damian scoffed. “I can’t explain to you how horrible it felt. My eyesight clouded the moment Stephanie said it was time for you to start seeing someone.”

“Jealousy does that to us.” You tried to sound wise by saying it, an attempt you found quite pointless as you replayed it in your head.

Silently, he lifted his head off your stomach in order to lay down next to you. Shifting so he would be comfortable, you held your head up with your hand to properly gaze at him.

Damian mirrored your position. He told you, in a hushed tone like it was his deepest secret, “I felt like you were replacing me.”

Stephanie only had said that because it was the truth. Your relationships always fizzled out after the first two months so you had stopped trying. Then there was the fact that Damian himself had sabotaged who knows how many of them...

From her perspective, it made sense.

“Damian...” you trailed off, in vain. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t replace you as long as you don’t replace me.”

You thought he would find the comment insulting even though it was perfectly sound. But for God knows which time that day, Damian surprised you by scoffing with nonchalance.

Dismissing your worry, he slid closer to you, resting his forehead against your flexed arm. “I couldn’t possibly be happy without your perfume all over me.”

Grabbing him by the hair, you forced him to lift his head. His eyes found yours in a second, curious. You dropped your hand to his neck, sliding it up to his cheek.

Giving him the sweetest kiss you had ever given, tracing the side of his gorgeous face tenderly, you hoped you were doing a good job expressing what you wanted to communicate.

You were. He gave you in return the brightest smile you had seen in your entire existence. It was all for you, something you had caused, something you wanted to see for the rest of your life.

Damian pulled you onto his chest, laying on his back. He mindlessly ran his fingers over your side and up and down your back while you listened to his steady heartbeat.

You couldn’t possibly feel complete without him ever again.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne smut #damian wayne

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?�� Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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reallivegeekgirl · 3 years ago

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StanQuest

Something clicked on in my brain a couple months ago and suddenly Sebastian Stan became the hottest man alive. So I decided to watch everything he’s ever been in. A friend and I called it StanQuest.

Here are my spoiler-free reviews for anyone considering something similar (in inverse chronological order starting with latest works and going back in time. The stars are an overall rating of the work, not of Sebastian’s performance.

This only lists things I could find streaming for free or a price I was willing to pay. It does not count after credits scenes, music videos, or works in which he was uncredited.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) - TV show - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This started it all. I very much enjoyed it. Good balance of humor and action, heart and heroics. I’ve watched it four times already, and will watch it again. Bucky Barnes is my favorite character of his and this is my favorite story of Bucky's so far. I can’t wait to see what he does next. (And I have a lot to say about how they treat his trauma in this show. I’ve definitely written about it before and may again.)

Monday (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one where he gets naked. If that’s all you’re looking for, enjoy. It was a very realistic portrayal of a relationship between two deeply flawed people. It can get depressing. But hey, penis.

The Devil All the Time (2020) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you think Monday is depressing, this movie says “hold my beer”. But something about it is just captivating. It’s really disturbing, and if you’ve ever been screwed over by American Evangelical Christianity it might be more disturbing. Still, I’ve watched it twice. And as much of a bastard as Lee Bodecker is, he also looks really cuddly. He’s just barely in it.

The Last Full Measure (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - You will cry. A lot. It’s based on a true story. Sebastian plays a man who cares more about his career than this weird quest dumped on his desk by his boss, but changes his mind and his heart as he investigates why a war hero was denied a medal of honor 34 years before. Definitely recommend.

Endings, Beginnings (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - One of two love interests in the complicated life of Shailene Woodley’s Daphne, Sebastian is an adorable mess. The editing is interesting and fresh feeling. Watch it and you’ll see what I mean. Fair amount of sex in this movie, and you see his butt. It’s a very nice butt. I’ve watched this one a few times so far.

Avengers: Endgame (2019) - Movie - ⭐⭐ - There is no reason to watch this movie if you’re not familiar with at least most of the rest of the MCU. It plays merry hob with the rules of time travel, and only makes sense if you don’t really think about it. In my opinion, the ending is really freaking stupid comsidering his character’s history, but at least it sets up TFatWS, which was amazing.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2018) - Movie - ⭐ - If you’re into movies that are creepy but also almost nothing happens for most of the movie, this is the one for you. Sebastian is handsome as hell, but also a complete asshole. As fine as he is, I’m not gonna watch this again. I fucking hated it.

Destroyer (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- I had a hard time paying attention to the plot because it seemed like they made this movie just to get Nicole Kidman an Oscar nomination for wearing ugly makeup and playing a complete mess of a person. It’s a fine movie, and all of the performances are good. Sebastian looks surprisingly good with the short hair and goatee. Ultimately, the plot is depressing and the whole movie seems kind of pointless.

Avengers: Infinity War (2018) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Again, no reason to watch this if you aren’t already familiar with all the movies leading up to it. It’s long and the villain looks like Grimace and a California Raisin had an evil baby. The ending made me scream with frustration that I had to wait until the next one came out. Now I just watch them back-to-back if I watch them at all. It’s not a good movie, but it is part of a long-form story that I enjoy in general.

I’m Not Here (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐- Another depressing one. Told over the course of one man’s terrible life, it’s a sad account of how much your parents can fuck you up. Sebastian portrays the middle part of the man’s life. J.K. Simmons plays the current day part and unreliable narrator.. Do not watch unless you are fully prepared to be sad for a really long time after.

I, Tonya (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- This movie is hilarious. I mean, the true story is insane and really stupid. The spousal abuse is hard to watch, and Sebastian’s mustache in this is a war crime. But the acting is great and it’s a very engaging movie. The parts that aren’t horrifying are pretty funny.

Logan Lucky (2017) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Watch. This. Movie. Sebastian Stan is only in it a little, but it’s a really fun, clever caper/heist movie and everyone in it is fantastic. I don’t want to say anything else about it if you’re going in fresh. I’ll be rewatching this one a lot

Captain America: Civil War (2016) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you ignore how kind of silly the conflict over the Sokovia Accords is, this is a good Marvel movie. Sebastian gets a lot of screen time because Bucky is the more pressing concern/urgent point of contention than the Accords. Bucky is my favorite character of his partly because of this movie.

The Martian (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I’m watching it(again) as I’m typing this. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. Sebastian Stan isn’t in it very much, but he’s very cute and so is his little story arc. Mostly I watch it because Ridley Scott made a fantastic movie. If you can get your hands on the Blu-Ray, it comes with a ton of extras. They made a very complete story that isn’t all seen in the movie. A lot of it is stuff about Mars, but there are also extra “crew” interviews, so there’s another chance to see more of Sebastian’s character.

Ricki and the Flash (2015) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - He’s not in this very much, but he’s very cute when he does appear. It’s all about the relationship between Ricki and her daughter. Definitely rewatchable. Meryl Streep is fantastic, because she’s Meryl Streep.

The Bronze (2015) - Movie - ⭐ - This is not a good movie. It’s about Olympic gymnastics, so it might be slightly more interesting right now while the Olympics are happening. Sebastian isn’t in it a lot, but his performance is certainly… memorable. Weirdest sex scene I’ve ever seen. Worth watching just for that.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This is the one I can watch over and over. I bought a Winter Soldier face mask for when I need to feel like a badass. Bucky’s story is really sad, but he’s also extremely sexy with the metal arm and determined walk.

Once Upon a Time (2012-2013) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐ - This show is so stupid, but it’s also fun. If you haven’t seen it, the premise is that fairy tale characters are real and live in another land. Snow White’s Evil Queen casts a spell to transport a bunch of them to a town she creates in Maine called Storybrooke, and gives them all fake memories so she can be mayor and watch them all not remember who they are. Sebastian plays Jefferson, a.k.a. The Mad Hatter. He’s in a few episodes in season 1 and 2, and doesn’t get a ton of screen time, but he’s really cute and tragic as Jefferson. It probably helps to watch the whole first season just to understand his episodes, but that’s up to your tolerance for weird shit. Note: IMDB says he’s in an episode uncredited, but I’ve watched it and didn’t see him anywhere in that one.

Labyrinth (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐ - Two episodes that tell a complete story. Sebastian isn’t in this one a whole lot, but he is adorable. It’s a strange story about religious stuff and a sort of Holy Grail that’s three books. It’s hard to describe. It’s on Amazon Prime right now, but they’re taking it down August 8, 2021, so watch it while you can.

The Apparition (2012) - Movie - ⭐ - If you like horror movies, you might like this. I did not. From what I understand, it’s not a very good horror movie. Watch with caution and expect it to suck.

Political Animals (2012) - TV Mini-Series - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I had to buy this through Apple and watch it on a Mac, but it was worth it. Sebastian plays TJ Hammond, the out gay son of a former American president who is clearly based on Bill Clinton. Sigorney Weaver plays the former first lady and current secretary of state. TJ struggles with addiction and relationship problems. His performance is heart-wrenching. The whole show is pretty great. I wish there was more of it.

Gone (2012) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - More of a psychological thriller than a horror movie. Sebastian has a small amount of screen time as the worried boyfriend. Amanda Seyfried is good. She carries the film well on her own.

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - If you haven’t seen this yet, I’d like to know what it’s like under your rock. This is a movie I can rewatch a lot, and have. I 100% cried in the theater. Sebastian looks fantastic in uniform as Bucky Barnes. This is his introduction and the start of his ultimately tragic story (before he’s saved by his best friend, again).

Black Swan (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Sebastian is barely in this. He’s basically just in one scene in a dance club. But I watched it to try to complete StanQuest, and I had seen it before. It’s a good movie, but might induce some nightmares, depending on what scares you. If Natalie Portman didn’t at least get a nomination for an award she was robbed.

Gossip Girl (2007-2010) - TV Show - ⭐⭐ - Carter Baizen is a little shit. The episodes with Sebastian in them might have made more sense if I watched the show from the beginning, but I didn’t want to. His character is an asshole, but a very cute one.

Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐- The people who made this movie are bad at math, and their rules of time travel are sketchy at best, but it is funny and entertaining. Sebastian plays a ski patrol bro who’s paranoid about the Russians, which is hilarious irony to me. Worth watching if you want to laugh at something dumb.

Kings (2009) - TV Show - ⭐⭐⭐- Sebastian plays Jack Benjamin, the closeted gay son of the king of a fictional place. It’s loosely based on the David and Goliath story from the Bible. Sebastian is so sad and so gay. His family makes his life a living hell. Ian McShane is a force of nature in this. It’s only one season. I’ve watched it twice. I will watch it again.

Spread (2009) - Movie - no stars - This movie was practically unwatchable. It stars Ashton Kutcher and Anne Heche as a romantic couple, I guess? I ended up just skipping to Sebastian’s scenes and only watching those. Still painful.

The Covenant (2006) - Movie - ⭐⭐⭐ - This movie is so fuckig stupid, and I will watch it a ridiculous number of times. It’s about magic and teenagers, like The Craft for boys. Nothing about it makes sense. It’s terrible, almost irredeemable, but an evil Sebastian with magic powers is a siren song that will make me steer my boat right into the rocks.

And there you have it. There are a bunch of earlier things on IMDB that I just can’t find or don’t want to pay to rent. Maybe some day I’ll watch them and add them to this list.

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melyaliz · 3 years ago

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Remember Me 11

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Notes: Been trying to get more writing in. Pushing myself to be creative again because I feel like this energy is getting pent up and needs to go somewhere.

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest / Newsletter

DONATE

Check out my published work.

--------Olive---------

“Eliott the craziest thing happened to me today!” Her boyfriend looked up from his computer where he was editing photos he had taken the week prior. Flopped down on the couch dramatically down next to him, Olive kissed him quickly before continuing with the craziest thing ever.

“So you know how I was writing short stories online? Well, some dude asked me to ghostwrite for them.”

Eliott moved his laptop away so he could focus on Olive, “no way, that’s great! Wait, is he paying you?”

“Yeah, it’s not a ton but it’s a start.” Olive glanced down at her phone again reading over the person’s suggestions again, “Maybe I could make a little extra from this? Could be really fun to actually make money from my writing.”

“Yeah I mean if it makes you happy do it,” Eliott said, getting up from the couch walking toward their small kitchen where dinner was slowly simmering on the stove. “But also, come try this sauce I made.”

Getting up to follow her boyfriend Olive took the spoon he was holding out, “Oh that’s good.” she hummed approvingly

“I know right?”

“I need to wife you up so you can cook like this all the time,” Olive said putting the spoon back in the pot.

“I will only say yes to a princess cut,” Eliott teased stirring the pot a few times before putting the lid back on. “Are you done getting story propositions? Want to watch a movie?”

“Let’s do a movie.”

“Roadhouse?”

“Pain don’t hurt”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“So the police had been keeping an eye on airlines out of Tokyo but for American passports but we haven’t found anyone who matches the description the robbers gave us” Kirishima sighed, rubbing his forehead as Bakugou growled and threw the reports on his assistant’s desk. His poor assistant quickly gathered up the paperwork putting it back in order. After working for Bakugou for this long she knew better than to leave any mess

“The police are useless! They can’t find one guy”

“I guess it could be possible this guy is erasing the memories of the people who see him.” Kirishima offered as Bakugou grabbed his gauntlets getting ready for patrol.

“He’s such a coward, just face me like a man!” Bakuogu snapped at no one in particular, feeling his hands growing more sweaty at his anger. The feeling of Olive sobbing on his chest from a week ago still so fresh in his memory. Luckily for him - and her - it was as if she had gotten it all out. Since that night she had started finding a routine. She had started writing again and yesterday he even caught her smiling at her screen laughing to herself over some crazy plot idea she was coming up with. The sight had been such a beautiful one Bakugou had been scared to move in case he broke the spell.

That morning after Bakugou had made breakfast for them Olive had informed him that she was working on her unfinished story and planned to reach out to her editor that day. She even opened up about trying to figure out if it was better to continue on or start something new since she only had her outlines and notes to go off of. She had looked so determined and happy it was as if he had gotten the old Olive back.

While it was an improvement she still wasn’t his Olive yet and he wasn't going to settle until she was.

As they walked down the streets he could hear people getting excited to see the number 1 hero walking the streets next to the number 5. Kirishima had his own very loyal fan base that Olive had started to call his Shimanights. It also helped that Kirishima was basically the top hero who was still single.

Lots of girls flocked to them asking for pictures. Bakugou hated this part of the job. It had only been recently that he had actually started letting them shoot pictures of him. Before he would just ignore the cries of fans continuing to walk by.

Although today he was a bit on edge.

Or more than normal.

“You know,” Kirishima said, walking up behind Bakugou after snapping a few pictures with some high school girls. “I know you are dealing with a lot with Olive’s emotions and stuff but… Do you remember that time you were tracking that villain and disappeared in the mountains for over a week?

“Yeah, why?”

“You were engaged to Olive at the time and she had just officially moved here to Japan.” Kirishima sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. That week had been the longest week in his and Olive’s life. “When I went to go tell her what had happened I thought she was going to pass out. She kept saying you couldn’t die over and over again. I just” he paused again trying to find the right words.

“I know she’s upset about Eliott right now” Kirishima continued, “but she does love you just as much. How she’s acting now, is like how she was when you were gone.” Kirishima concluded. He knew when Bakugou had found out Olive had been married before the blonde had been upset. As if he was the second all over again. While it hadn’t stopped him in the long run, there was always these remnants of a scar that you can only see if you really look. That Bakugou was worried he would always be second in Olive’s life.

Bakugou looked away, lost in his own memories of that week. Coming back and seeing her in the hospital waiting for him. Her large hazel eyes filled with tears trying so hard not to cry. He had pulled her into his arms much like he had last night. She had told him over and over he couldn’t leave her. It was the only time she had ever said that. Olive had known that him being a hero was the most important thing to him and she never tried to get in his way.

But that night she wouldn’t leave his side. Holding onto him as if he would turn into dust and blow away if she so much as loosened her grip.

That had been over 2 years ago and he hadn’t thought about that in so long. It had never occurred to him that she had thought he may have been killed. Suddenly everything seemed to have a different hue on the past few weeks. As if he was seeing it all through different eyes.

“I guess” was Bakugou’s simple response as he continued walking down the street.

Suddenly all he wanted was to go home and see her. Remind her he would never leave her, he would never make her feel this way because of him.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Oive was deep in stories. Piecing them together was like a puzzle. Part of it felt like an old mussel she hadn’t worked out in a while. A bit stiff but it felt great. Getting back into the swing of things, coming up with ideas and planning stuff. Her editor had suggested she maybe look into a new idea or maybe something she had put away for a long time instead of jumping into the story she had been working on.

So laying on the floor of the living room that was exactly what she was doing. She had this one idea about a modern Esther story except for the king she has to marry is a Dragon king and she’s a unicorn only he doesn’t know that. She already had so many spicey ideas and the secret unicorn idea just had this… hidden comedy that made her smile.

A ping on her phone cut her off from her writing making her look down.

Lily: ‘Look what came up on my timeline.

As if on cue text opened up in Olive’s group chat from Lily. It was an image of Olive holding a little baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Leaning over Olive’s shoulder was Bakugou looking down at the small baby. His normally harsh features were much softer.

Lily: “That was when your goddaughter was born”

Clare instantly replied to another image, This one of Olive hanging off of Bakugo’s arm which he was flexing. That ‘I’m not annoyed but I’m trying to look it ’ scowl on his face that she was starting to realize was a signature of his.

The picture was followed up by a video from the same night. Bakugou was lifting up his arm as Olive hung on. Her body slowly lifting off the ground as she clung to his bicep. Giggling so hard she almost slipped several times.

“Stop laughing or you are going to lose your grip.” Bakugou’s voice said from the video as he watched her struggle to pull her legs up to her chest further off the ground.

“I can’t believe he’s doing that,” Clare’s voice said behind the camera

“He’s so proud of himself, show off” Lily laughed as the camera zoomed in on Bakugou’s face as he smiled down at Olive who was looking up at him still laughing.

“You are going to fall” he chastised

“I’m not!”

As if on cue her grip slipped, or maybe it had been her powers. Olive’s ass was suddenly on the floor, looking up at Bakugou blinking in shock.

“I told you, idiot,” Bakugou said, shaking his head, no real bite behind his voice.

Lily: ‘Pretty sure this one is Nate’s fav’

Another video popped up. Bakugou looking totally put out sitting on a white couch, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m serious, why would you make me watch this utter horse shit! Vampires don’t bounce like that and what even was that robot?” Bakugou was yelling at an Olive who was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. The camera was pretty shaky; it was clear Lily was laughing as well.

“Katsuki is mad at us for showing him Robo Vampire.” Lilly’s voice narrated.

“More like mad at Olive, we are just enjoying the show” Nate, Lily’s husband said as the camera turned to him for a , an amused smile on his face.

“Oh my… I can’t stop… breath” Olive gasped from the seat next to Bakugou as he continued to rant at her.

“Seriously, how do you people enjoy that? What is actually wrong with you?”

“But look at how much fun we are having now,” she giggled, leaning forward a huge smile on her face. He studied her for a moment before pushing her face back, rolling his eyes. But there was just a hint of a smile on his scowling face. It was an impressive feat that only Bakugou could pull off.

Clare : This one is my favorite video.

It was a link to a youtube video of Olive sitting in the office of their apartment. She recognized her pink chair and pictures behind her.

In the video, she was answering some of her fan’s questions. Everything from what books inspired her at the moment, to her favorite drink to… her second marriage.

Past Olive had chuckled looking at the question for a moment before looking back up at the camera. Her eyes lighting up slightly, it was clear that whatever the question said sparked a deep joy inside that woman on the other side of the camera.

“So yes, as many of you have realized by now I am in a relationship with Hero DynaMight, Katsuki Bakugou. We met when he was in the US and have been together for over a year.” she paused the diamond on her hand catching the light as she ran her fingers through the turquoise and blue hair she now had. The one constant in her life, the ever-changing shades of her hair.

“So I know when Eliott died three years ago I had said I had gotten the love of my life and I didn’t think I could ever find another like that and I was at peace with it.” she bit her lip eyes darting off-screen for a moment trying to find the right words. “And I meant it. But… Katsuki just kind of came into my life and gave me something totally new.”

Past Olive laughed lightly for a moment at some memory that Present Olive wished she could remember. It looked like a happy one.

“They are two totally different people and there is no way to compare them. Eliott was this calm funny guy who taught me how to be comfortable in my own skin. He encouraged me to do what made me happy. Katsuki…” she paused a soft smile playing on her lips, her eyes lighting up at the memories.

“Katsuki showed me that second life keeps going and that nothing is impossible. That there is such a thing as a second chance. He…” she laughed, her hand covering her mouth for a moment that beautiful diamond that present Olive was still not used to, glinted in the light as if laughing with her, “He inspires me every day and has given me so much hope in the future.”

Olive couldn’t take her eyes off the girl on the screen. It was like seeing yourself in a fun mirror. Someone you didn’t recognize but your brain told you was you. That this woman who was smiling and so in love was the same girl as Olive. That this life this woman was talking about was hers.

As past Olive moved on to the next question - something about her upcoming book - Present Olive was caught up in her own thoughts. It wasn’t unbelievable that she could have been that happy and inlove with Bakugou. In fact she felt herself slowly falling for him more and more each day.

The door to their apartment opened, making Olive look up a huge smile on her face as the man from the videos was walking into the living room where she was sitting. When he saw her smiling face he paused, studying her. As if unsure what to do with her happiness.

Made sense. Poor guy.

“How was work?” she asked

“Fine,” was his simple reply as he took a seat on the couch. She scooted over so she could look up at him from her spot on the floor.

“So I have been thinking…” she said, scooting closer to him. He watched her, unsure how to react to this shift in her emotion. It was different from her normal forced happy, almost as if the old Olive was slowly peeking through the cracks. “Since I can’t remember anything you could basically take me to all my favorite places and it would be a new experience.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So do you have dinner plans?”

“No” He didn’t bother to point out that his plans were to eat with her because obviously, she was getting to a point.

She gently placed her hand on his knee sending shivers up his spine. The whole, touch-starved thing getting worse by the day. Suddenly he didn’t want to have dinner plans. He wanted to take her in his arms and eat her out instead.

“So what sorts of places would we go to eat? Besides that Ramen place you took me.”

“Normally I would cook but if you want to go out we can go get street food. You were obsessed with it.”

Her eyes grew wide leaning forward getting up onto her knees so she was now leaning over his legs excitedly. The position was not helping the subtle throbbing that was going on in Bakugou’s pants. His face flushed slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

“Oh that sounds like so much fun!”

“Ok let me shower and we can go.”

And it was fun. Olive practiced her Japanese ordering so much food Bakugou felt like he would never need to eat again. They even did some shopping which resulted in a new floppy sun hat that Olive kept moving her head to make flop around, that large smile that had been on her face in the apartment never leaving.

Several hours later and a cone of ice cream each they headed back to their apartment.

“Honestly, I don’t get it,” Olive said, turning to him, “I know we have touched on this topic a few times… but...”

“If you ask me again why we are together…”

“It’s just so weird.” she laughed nudging him with her arm leaning close her body pressed against his. “You’re like model hot and I’m like maybe a 5,” she said, pulling away, both of them feeling the loss of the other. “Number 1 Hero, beloved by all, super-rich,” she ticked off each reason as she spun away from him.

He reached out grabbing her arm causing her to stop, his callus hand enveloping her much smaller one. Her hazel eyes met his that mischievous look he had not seen in months. She used to give him so much shit, the old Olive never let him get away with anything. Always laughing and joking about everything with a wit that could cut down even the most stoic of heroes.

Olive in turn felt like her feet had been melted into the concrete below her by the look her husband was giving her. So intense it felt like his red eyes were burning holes into her very soul. Peeling her raw down into someone else. The Olive she had seen on youtube video.

They stood there for a moment just looking at each other both totally lost in their own thoughts.

“Whatever we are ok!” he finally snapped, letting go of her hand breaking the tension that was as thick as the humidity of the summer night. Noticing a bit of ice cream on her nose, without thinking he brushed it away. “You also eat like a child.”

Giggling, she wiped the back of her face with her sleeve. Her cheeks flushing. “Yeah, yeah let’s just add it to the list of reasons why it’s weird you married me.”

“Oh shut up” he mumbled leaning forward kissing her, her lips were cold from the ice cream. She smiled against his lips deepening the kiss letting his tongue explore the cool sweet taste of her mouth.

Letting out a soft growl, Bakugou’s teeth dragged over her supple bottom lip. His free arm snaking around her waist pulling her closer so that she was flush against his body. He craved her more than anything else and even with them both fully clothed in the middle of a busy street he could only think about how badly he wanted her.

And then she sighed against his mouth and that was it.

“Let’s get back,” he said, looking down at her as she blinked up at him. His comment was more of a question than a statement. So much meaning laced behind those words. Thick and heavy “Please?”

She nodded softly, her large hat flopping with her. “ I would like to go back to our place. ”

His heart could have stopped in his chest. His whole body lighting up tingling at the tips. It was like when he blasted himself into the air. Light and weightless as if he could do anything. The feeling of the fire licking at his palms sending sparks running through his hand and up his fingers.

Grabbing her arm he started pulling her down the street only to pause to stop again to kiss her again before once again leading her towards their place.

Our place

She had called it our place.

- GET TAGGED -

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm @sizzlingdonutturtlemuffin

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou x you #bakugou smut

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rum-and-shattered-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

A rant of personal experiences and trying to do something positive with them:

Okay so procrastination is a huge thing in ADHD. Same with memory issues. (Not that these are always present and maybe some people experience both without being ADHD).

So. Here’s an experience I’m just now (at almost 40) realizing was a thing:

Imagine a huge essay/report/project requiring a lot of research and several sources was due in a few weeks. The advice was always to break it down, take notes, and make an outline. It made perfect sense. And maybe it does help some or even most people.

But for some, like me, it was still impossibly overwhelming and breaking it down was worse. The project was often boring (especially if I had to ignore a hyperfixation to work on it) and even if it wasn’t, it still felt like A LOT when my brain was full of TV static and my memory was shit.

It takes a ton of repetition for me to even temporarily remember something and even then, it will likely be gone again in a few days. UNLESS I learn by actually doing something or figuring it out for myself. And my brain gaslights itself like “do I remember that right? No that can’t be right. Let me look it up for the 100th time to make sure.” And I’m WAY more likely to remember concepts or physical processes but completely forget the terms for them or names of things or important dates EVEN FOR MY HYPERFIXATIONS, damnit... Like, I can do a bunch of crafty stuff and even remember some common terms and items but not the less common fabrics or stitch types or tool names. (Yet somehow I could remember the exact location of hundreds of thousands of items of inventory at my craft store job... even if I didn’t know what they were called. But I stocked them and had physical contact with them so I could picture where they were.) The number one overwhelming thing for me about trying to be a pro at anything is trying to remember terms so it sounds like I know what I’m talking about.

Anyway...

Without acknowledging that, I ended up wasting time by trying to schedule research/work in small chunks because every time I stopped then tried to start again, I wouldn’t remember what I did or looked at last time. (Can I also add that this is why being interrupted is infuriating for me? It probably seems irrational to other people but it’s so hard to get focused on something and now my train of thought is derailed, passengers are dead and injured, and it’s going to take who knows how long to revive the survivors?) And maybe that wasn’t so bad the first time because I’d only have to reread one page of notes. But then it would happen a few more times and my focus would be blurred and I’d repeated myself multiple times in the notes and they’d become a mess and look horrible which was distracting and I’d feel overwhelmed by having to reread and now rewrite several pages and focus would be even worse because I did remember some bits and blanked out while looking at those then stay blanked out then I’d have to reread again to catch the parts I didn’t remember.

But.

If I waited until the last minute, when the consequence/reward system overrode how overwhelming or boring the project was, I could burn through it because I was in constant contact with the material and it was all currently on my mind and I could skip writing notes and an outline and go straight to a fairly decent flow-state draft then keep going through revisions and editing all without forgetting WTF I’d researched. And it would be done in so so so much less time with a lot less effort and frustration.

And...

AND

And then there’s the schedule thing and why it DOES NOT WORK for me. If I schedule doing something (or even if someone suddenly wants me to do something right now) and my brain is like, “nah sorry, just static right now,” there’s absolutely nothing I can do to make it work and I’m just going to get frustrated and tired and depressed and discouraged. But if I keep a loose list of things that need to get done and indicate which are priorities, I can look at it and say “yeah. This one seems doable right now.” No I’m not going to get up and vacuum that spot of cat litter at this exact moment but it’s a good idea to do it soon so I’ll add vacuum to the list and probably get it done later the same day. If the cat throws up, that is an immediate priority so I will get up and make sure they’re okay and clean it because my brain does actually recognize things like that as super important. If a bill arrives in the mail, I’ll stop and pay it right away because I know I don’t have to think/worry about it again if I do. But what sucks about that is that society wants and often understandably needs people to work on a schedule. And I just... can’t.

But I’m trying to take this knowledge and apply it, trying to accept that this is how I function. I function based on a system of priorities that get done in order of “absolutely must be done right this second, whether for my own reasons or outside reasons, even if I need to drop other things” to “this is what I CAN do right now.” Not something pre-scheduled. If I need to leave something to the last minute then I’m just going to accept that that’s how it’s going to be and that’s okay. Then I can free up energy and space to do other things in the meantime rather than worry and be anxious and beat myself up because I should be doing the thing and end up hating things I like doing because they’re not what I should be doing and now there’s a negative association with them. No. Screw that. If all I can do today is play a video game then fine. Gonna enjoy it. Because I now know for a fact, from years of experience, that I will do the important things. They just need to wait until I’m capable of doing them. And... if I let myself stop worrying about old WIPs... They get done eventually too. It might take a few years but as long as I don’t actually decide not to do them, they will get done.

All that said... I still want to look into meds because it would be nice to have more of an ability to focus more regularly. I just need to clear up some other medical stuff first and I’ve got appointments already set up for that.

One more thing... I f$&#ing hate the attitude teachers have about doodling in class. It was literally the only way I could focus during lectures and remember anything they were talking about. I could look at what I drew and remember what was being said while I drew it. F$&% every teacher who took away my notebooks or yelled at me for it. Without it, I’d zone out completely. And THANK YOU to the art history teacher and biology teachers I had who not only understood but encouraged it and actually helped me direct it toward the subject matter by suggesting drawing thumbnails of the art or cell structure or anatomy.

#rant #adhd Brain #adhd rant #just my experience #just sharing in case it helps anyone #or is relatable #mo’s rambling and such #am I writing this to procrastinate other things...#???#yes and no

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jeonjk1998 · 4 years ago

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Before Us | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: college!au fuckboy!au bestfriends!au friendswithbenefit!au director!au tattoo!au piercing!au fluff!au smut!au angst!au

Wordcount: 4518 words

Summary: You and Jungkook has been best friends ever since the both of you were just a kid but you never expected to fall in love with him

Notes: I hope you like this fic! I know it’s clichè but I can’t help it haha, anyways I was hoping to write this into a fic someday but since I’m not good at writing, I’ll just leave it here as a draft

Masterlist

You were five years old when you first met him

You remember it was one summer when your parents brought you on a vacation along with their business partners’ family and that is where you met Jeon Jungkook

To be honest, you didn’t like him at all when you first met him, he was so full of himself and annoying sometimes

It’s not surprising that he’s acting like a spoiled child since his family are one of the richest family in the country and he literally can have anything he wants if he just names it

But that wasn’t just it, he and his friends, Jimin and Taehyung would always find a wat to prank you whenever your parents were not around

Despite all of that, you tried your best to make amends with him but it was no use, you ended up hating him even more

You honestly have no idea why would he keep bothering you or why is he always so rude around you

You just assume maybe because you were the only girl around here and he just didn’t want to hang out with you

But what you didn’t know is that Jungkook has the fattest crush on you and he just wanted your attention

Eventually, you got tired and stopped trying and that’s when things starting to get better

You even got along with the boys and surprisingly, your relationship with Jungkook has gotten so much better

You remember you even cried when you thought you didn’t enroll into the same high school as Jungkook

Sometimes your parents would even question if the both of you were in a relationship but you and Jungkook knew very well that it would never happen

You wouldn’t say that you’re not attracted to him, it was impossible to ignore that gorgeous boy and the fact that he has tons of admirer waiting in line for him

You never had a crush on him, you thought you did at one point but it turns out that you only find him attractive

You never told him before but you admired him a lot, especially when it comes to his passion, you respected how much effort he puts in towards the things he loves

You remember it was on his 12 years old birthday when his Grandfather gave him a video camera as his birthday present and ever since then, he would bring it along with him wherever he goes

Jungkook loves filming a lot, he’d even put you in his videos just so he could make it into a documentary, at least that’s what he said

He even attended classes so that he could improve his filming and editing skills

But before you could witness it, the both of you somehow just got drifted away from each other, it’s not like the both of you stopped hanging out with each other, you guys just have a different group of friends to be with

Jungkook became more popular and started to get involved with stuff like parties and sex but you weren’t surprised since he’s always so socially involved and outgoing

Just when you thought that Jungkook couldn’t get any more attractive, he became so much hotter

He started to go to the gym more often and he started to get more tattoos on his body or you just assume it’s because he became more cocky and confident

It wasn’t a lie that Jungkook was undoubtedly hot and gorgeous, even you couldn’t deny that he was hot as fuck

Sometimes you’d even catch yourself staring at his biceps while he was working out, it was no doubt that Jungkook has a great body

Although, you never know why he never dated before since girls would normally just throw themselves to him

He only said he didn’t like commitments and that it’s easier to just have sex and even though he can be a dick sometimes but he was also a genuinely nice guy

It was no different with you, you used to be this cute little girl that Jungkook used to have a crush on but for somewhat reason, puberty hit you like a truck and you got hot

You’d even caught Jungkook checking your ass out sometimes, all thanks to the pilates classes you took with your roommate

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about sleeping with your best friend before, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is but you never did make a move and neither does he

God, if only you knew how much Jungkook wanted you that way

Ever since he started to get involved with sex, he has been thinking what would it be like to have you under him, screaming his name

It was obvious enough that the both of you were attracted to each other sexually but nothing ever happens

The both of you knew so well that your friendship was way too important to mess around with

You have to admit, it’s hard to hold back when you’re best friend is so damn attractive

Right now, you were trying so hard not to stare at the way Jungkook’s bicep is flexing while he was holding the huge camcorder in his hand

It reminded you back to the day when he told you that he got recruited into one of the most famous entertainment industry and now he’s working here

You were so happy for him and honestly, he deserves it, Jungkook was very talented in the things he does, especially when it comes to video production

As much as you love seeing him with his camcorder, you and Jungkook were supposed to be at Jimin’s party right now but you’ve been waiting for him for almost an hour and he’s still hasn’t done yet

God, your feet were killing you from wearing the Jimmy Choo heels that Jungkook bought for you on your birthday and you really don’t feel like waiting anymore

It didn’t take him long to wrap everything up when he saw how annoyed you get

To be honest, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be working for an extra hour

You have been distracting him the whole evening with that tight dress you’re wearing, wrapping around your ass so perfectly

When both of you arrived at Jimin’s place, he was already half-drunk

He then pulls you in for a drink before he grabs you in to play beer pong with him

You were sitting on the table beside the boys while watching them playing when Taehyung suddenly suggested that he wanted to play truth or dare

You never really like the game but since everyone is playing, you have not much of a choice but to say yes

Like always, you choose truth and it was Jimin’s turn to ask you “Who do you most want to sleep with, out of everyone here?”

He smirks at the question while he asks as he knew exactly what your answer will be but he just wanted to tease you

You then saw Jungkook was staring at you and you knew exactly what he was thinking since he already knew who was on your mind

Thanks to all the alcohol in your system, you didn’t hesitate as you blurted his name “Easy, Jungkook”

The boys cheered loudly at your answer and you saw Jungkook was smirking at you and god, you wanted so bad to wipe that cocky smirk off of his face

When you thought things couldn’t get any worst, it was then Jungkook’s turn and of course, he’d choose dare

You then saw Jimin whispered something to Jhope before he could give the dare, making him smile as he then blurted out “Make out with Y/N for 3 minutes”

Your heart instantly races at the thought of it when you saw Jungkook walks over to you

God, just when you thought Jimin couldn’t get anymore devious, here he is smirking at you, waiting to see the both of his friends eating each other out

The boys started wooing and cheering around as soon as Jungkook’s lips crash on yours

He hungrily kisses you as he pulls you closer to him, grabbing your thigh while giving it a tight squeeze which made you moan into the kiss

You then started rubbing yourself onto him when you felt his dick poking on your thigh

You almost forgot that there were still people around, watching the both of you making out until you heard people started murmuring around

You then quickly pull yourself away from him as you can feel how fast your heart is beating and how warm your cheeks were

Jungkook then smirks at you when he saw how tense you look

God, you wanted so bad to wipe off that cocky smirks from his face but why does it turn you on so much

You knew you’d eventually give in and there is no way you could hold it back, at least not after what just happened

You ended up fucking your best friend in the car and boy, it felt so good

You almost lost your shit when he turns you around, thrusting into you ruthlessly

He was stretching you out so nicely, you still couldn’t believe how you manage to stuff that huge cock inside you

Jungkook never thought he’d get to see you like this, to have you under him, screaming his name with his balls deep inside you

God, it’s still hard to believe that he’d get to fuck you like this, his favorite girl

He knows that things aren’t going to be the same after this but right now you’re the only thing he can think of

You thought things would be awkward after that night but it turns out you have nothing to worry about

You and Jungkook decided that it’ll be easier if the both of you become fuckbuddies

Although, it was quite awkward to do this when you weren’t drunk but you decided that you’ll make the first move and that’s when everything started to change

The both of you then became more and more comfortable around each other and started to have more frequent sex than usual

Like now, you were supposed to do some researching in the library but instead, you were hoisted up against the wall by Jungkook as he fucks you mercilessly

“You like that baby? You like my cock deep inside you?” You were trying to hold back your moans by biting on your lips when Jungkook rubbed his thumbs on your clit

You then slide your hand down to his back as you rake onto his broad shoulder, feeling how his muscle-flexing with every thrust he takes

“Jungkook I can’t, I have to go” You whine helplessly when he tries to convince you to get on with him for another round

“C’mon, I promise I’ll make you feel so good” God, it’s like no matter how many times you guys fuck, he just can’t seem to get enough of you

Honestly, the whole friends with benefits thing were starting to worry him

He was afraid that he might fall for you, he even thought of pushing you away, just like how he did when the both of you were still in high school but he can’t afford to lose you anymore

You were the most precious thing to him, you were everything to him

You have always been there for him throughout his toughest time and he couldn’t possibly ruin what the both of you already had

But little did he know, he has already fallen in love with you long before he knew it

Your friends weren’t blind, they knew what was going on between the both of you and they have been teasing you for so long about how you and Jungkook were head over heels for each other but you knew that wasn’t possible

Jungkook hated commitments more than anything and there is no way he would give up all the sex only to be with one girl

Although, you have to admit that you’ve been acting strangely around him ever since you caught your roommate sucking his dick

And seeing all those pretty girls that he works with trying to get Jungkook to dick them down didn't help at all and you really didn’t want to see any more of that

You were so done waiting for him, he was supposed to be at the gala right now since his parents were having a celebration tonight but as usual, his works keep him away so you had no choice but to go with him

God, you can’t look at him anymore and since he was so busy flirting around, you then decided that you’ll leave first

Jungkook was so confused when he saw you were leaving

Something was off with you, he didn’t know why are you so annoyed at him over these past few days and it’s starting to bother him a lot

God, it’s like there’s something wrong with you, you knew you’ve been acting like a brat around him lately but you just can’t help it

Of course, Jungkook wouldn’t let you go just like that, he’s been keeping up with your shit for days and he wanted to know why

“You sure you wanna keep acting like a brat baby girl?” You knew Jungkook was starting to get annoyed by your bratty attitude and you sure gave him a huge headache since you’ve been acting like a bitch

“Just leave me alone” You tried to shove him away but he’s not having any of that

“Only if you stop giving me that attitude” God, you’ve already had so much on your mind and he’s sure is starting to get on your nerves

“Make me” Your heart immediately races when you felt Jungkook lips crash on yours, kissing you roughly while he grabs onto your thigh, carries you up before throwing you on the bed

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard until you stop giving me that fucking attitude” You already know how this was gonna end and it’s not going to look pretty

God, he wasn’t lying, you can’t even remember how many times he made you came tonight

“Mum, don’t worry, we’ll be there soon, I promise” You can’t believe Jungkook would actually pick up the phone while he’s rutting into you

You then saw a smirk curve upon Jungkook’s lips when he saw how hard you’re biting your lip while trying to hold back your moans

Tears well up in your eyes when he speeds up his pace, thrusting into you faster

God, he’s fucking you so good that you kept cumming around his cock

Thank god your parents had already left for the gala, it was just you and Jungkook in the house

You can’t believe how late it already is when the both of you arrived at the gala

You then glared at Jungkook when you caught him smiling like it wasn’t a big deal

But you, on the other hand, was not even though you knew his parents wouldn’t mind at all since they were both very fond of you, they even said that they would love to have you to be their daughter-in-law

You were surprised when you saw your brother, Seokjin was here too since you didn’t expect him to be home anytime soon

God, you missed bim, it’s been such a long time since you last saw him

“Why are you wearing that ridiculous dress?” Was the first thing he said, you then ignore all the snickers from the guy and pouted at him

You knew your dress was quite revealing but truth to be told, your brother was just way too overprotective over you

“Hey hyung” Jungkook went in to hug him when he saw him, so does the rest of the guys

Just when you thought Jungkook would drop the conversation that the both of you had earlier this evening, he then brought it up again

“What’s going on?” You know he would never drop it if you don’t talk to him and you really didn’t want to have that conversation now

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal, I just... I accidentally walk in on you and Jinny when you guys were... “

“You know what? Forget about it, it’s not like you’re not allowed to sleep with anyone you want so...” God, you’ve never sounded so ridiculous before

Smiling at your response, he knew he was damned, he only hoped you didn’t hear how fast his heart is racing

How did he not realized that he was already falling for his best friend

He thought sleeping with other people would get you off his mind, but it didn’t

You were all he could think of when he’s with other girls

Ever since that night, you and Jungkook gotten more intimate with each other

He’d casually hold your hands in public and he’d showers you with lots of kisses and hugs just because he feels like it

Of course, you were aware of your feelings for him but you never wanted to talk to him about it, you were scared that he might just end things with you if you confess

But you were getting tired of it, girls would flirt with him whenever the both of you went out and they would ask if he’s your boyfriend and you hated it when you say no

What’s bothering you, even more, is there was this girl, Ivy, she works with Jungkook and they’ve been spending a lot of time together

She’s super pretty and nice, it’s hard to not like her even if you don’t want to but you had to admit that you didn’t like seeing them together

It’s obvious that Ivy has a crush on Jungkook and he knew it too

Sometimes you’d wonder if Jungkook likes her since he’s been telling you about how cool the girl is and how the both of them hit it off so well with each other

“Do you like her? Ivy?” It took you a lot of courage but you had to ask

“Yeah, she’s cool and fun, it’s hard not to like her I guess” You were trying so hard to fight back your tears when you heard what Jungkook said

“Let’s not do this anymore, us being fuckbuddies” You finally said it, although it hurts but it’s the right thing to do

“What? What are you saying? Is this about Tae? I know both of you have been hanging out a lot these days but you can’t tell me that you like the guy?”

You and Tae have indeed been hanging out a lot these past few days but it’s because he knows about your feelings towards Jungkook

What you didn’t expect is for Jungkook to react this way

“Why are you acting up? I thought you said you like Ivy?” Jungkook was confused, how can you not know that he’s in love with you, he was so obvious

“Are you serious right now? I can’t believe you would think that I like Ivy, I only meant it as a platonic way, for god’s sake, I’m in love with you, how can you not see that?”

You were taken aback by Jungkook’s confessions as you didn’t expect to hear him say that or that he’s in love with you

“Look, I thought you knew about it if I knew you hadn’t known I wouldn’t have-” You didn’t let him finish before you crashes your lips onto his when he grabbed the back of your neck to deepen the kiss

“God, you don’t know just how hard it is to not be in love with you” He murmurs out in the kiss which made you blushed

“Well, you’re not the only one who feels that way” Your heart races when you saw he was gazing at you with all smiles

God, you really do love the guy

Honestly, Jungkook was everything you could ever ask for, he’s been there for you for your whole life as your family, your friend and now your boyfriend

Things couldn’t turn out better than you hoped

Of course, you’ve dated before but nothing ever felt like him

Sure, both of you had your ups and downs but Jungkook was always the one who made it up to you even though it wasn’t his fault

To be honest, you thought it wasn’t possible to be able to love someone so much but he made that happen

“Five years old me could’ve been so proud of myself” It still gets you every time to think that Jungkook had a crush on you when you were four

You were supposed to meet up with your friends today but because of your clumsy boyfriend, you’re late

You can’t believe that he actually thought baking muffins would be fun, he even messes up the sugar and salt and made a mess in the kitchen

You know he just wanted to hang out with you since the both of you haven’t been able to spend much time together lately and he misses you

Even though you really wanted to hang out with your boyfriend longer but your friends would kill you if you bail on them since you’ve already made your promise that you’d come

Jungkook has been busy with work these past few weeks and sometimes you don’t even get to see him for days

You just assume that maybe he has a lot of work to do but it started to bother when he doesn’t even have the time for you anymore

You didn’t want to overthink but you’ve been seeing him with Ivy together a lot

Even though you know that they work together but you just can’t stop thinking about it

You remember there was this one time when you saw Ivy texted him while the both of you were watching a movie at his apartment and he just left, saying that he still has some unfinished work to do

You tried not to let it get into your head but it eventually came to a point where you couldn’t stand it anymore

You need to talk to him

You then decided that it’ll be much easier to go to his apartment and talk to him but you lost it when you saw Ivy there

Tears started to form in your eyes when you saw Jungkook came out from his room, almost half-naked while tugging down his shirt

“No... Baby, please listen to me” You ran away before Jungkook could even get a hold of you

He knew, he knew how much you dislike the girl and yet she’s there, in his apartment

You know you were being unreasonable right now but you just need to get out of there

It broke his heart to have to see you like this

The last thing he ever wanted is to see you cry

God, you weren’t supposed to be here, he was going to ask you to come over tonight so he could celebrate your birthday with you and now you’re not even answering your phone

He has been preparing for this for so long, he was so busy over these past few weeks because he wanted to give you a surprise

He literally spent a whole month making the video for you, it was your birthday gift

It was all the videos that he has been taking of you for all those years ever since he got his first camcorder

You practically sums up his whole life

God, and now he blew it

If only you knew Ivy was just there to help him out with the video

The guys were also there as well, they were at the rooftop helping Jungkook to set up the projector and the screen and some of the stuff that he bought from Ikea

He knew how much you like these kinds of things, you said it’s romantic

He just hoped that your friends would help him to get you over here tonight

You were supposed to be with Jungkook tonight but since you were too stubborn, your friends decided that instead, they’ll bring you out to celebrate your birthday and hopefully you’ll stop sulking

You were distracted the whole night as you couldn’t stop looking at your phone, hoping that you’ll at least get a message from him

Did he finally got tired of you?

The thoughts were slowly eating you up as you felt your tears starting to stream down your cheeks

“Oh god Y/N, please don’t cry” Your friends started to get nervous when they saw you were crying again

They were supposed to help Jungkook to surprise you but now you were asking for him

You weren’t supposed to see him now but you were crying so much and they have no choice but to bring you over, seeing how upset you are

“Baby why are here?” You couldn’t hold back your tears the moment you saw Jungkook and went in for a hug

“Hey, it’s okay” Jungkook then slowly pulls away from you, wiping your tears away “You’re okay” He then places a soft kiss on your forehead while caressing your face

“Come on, there’s something I want to show you” You were confused when Jungkook brought you up to the rooftop as you have no idea what is going on

You were soon in awe when you saw the rooftop was romantically decorated into a movie theatre

“Happy Birthday baby” Fireworks started launching in the sky as soon as Jungkook wishes you while he snakes his veiny arm around your waist

“Come here” Jungkook then held your hand as he led you towards the couch and pulls you down beside him before he turns on the projector

You couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw the video that Jungkook made for you, you thought those videos were far gone but you didn’t expect that Jungkook would keep it

“Why don’t you hate me?” Guilt starting to fill you up as you couldn’t believe how badly you’ve been behaving over these past few weeks only because Jungkook was so busy with your birthday surprise

“Where is this coming from? I thought I was going to get a kiss after this” Jungkook tries to joke with you as he didn’t want to see you looking like that

“You are... I just felt so bad for always lashing it out on you” Jungkook only chuckle at your response “I’m serious!” You whine only to make him smile at how adorable you are

“Baby, I’m your boyfriend, not a stranger, and can I please get a kiss already?” You smile at his response as you then lean in for a kiss

Jungkook then took his chance as he pulls you closer to him before you could run away

Honestly, it has always felt like this with him, you thought maybe, just maybe, you had already fallen for him long before you knew it

#bts #army #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookie #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst

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ginnyweasleywannabe · 4 years ago

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How James found out- James' Pov

Companion piece to my other story "How James found out" but from James' POV. Gives more of glimpse to Marlene and James' friendship with a little background Blackinnon tender moment.

((I still don't know how to format a tumblr post so if you want to read the first piece, just go to my page and search tag #my writing))

As always you can also read on AO3 @inthemiddle

Notes: IDK honestly I just wanted to write more of the thoughts behind the other story. I thought about writing the talk between Marlene and James' after this event but I think I'll make that a separate piece. As always minimal editing because I just wanted to write and then be done and get it out-there.

Start:

Honestly, James was tired. He had been really pushing himself both mentally and physically lately. Revising was starting soon so he was working his school work more than usual. Revising and the end of the year also meant the end of quidditch season. They only had a few more games which mean they really needed to make them count to have the best chance at the cup. He had been looking forward to dinner all day, all the workouts meant bigger appetite. He was currently diving in deep into his shepherds pie, only half listening to the talk around him.

“Peter was great, he took a step in front of me and held up his wand. He didn’t even have to say anything, they just left!”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that Mary….” Peter said sheepishly, “I think they knew that if they messed with us then it would become a whole thing with you lot, that’s all.”

“Peter, I think it was nice of you to stand in front of Mary. They truly believe as a muggle-born she’d be worth the easy fight.” Lily wanted to help boost Peters confidence.

“It shouldn’t matter! Mary is great at defense, she could’ve taken the whole lot without even breaking a sweat!” Marlene’s word were encouraging but James could tell she was really annoyed. Marlene tended to have a short fuse. James couldn’t blame her. He felt like things were getting worse and worse. He was of the firm belief that it was time for the staff to take more action. Dumbledore was a believer in keeping the peace and that there was always more to the story. James felt like that was bullshit.

“Uggghhh”

He looked up to see Marlene staring down some Slytherins down the table. He knew what she was thinking. He could read Marlene like quidditch through the ages. He got it but tomorrow was really important to him. He just wanted to make it through the game then deal with this.

“Just let them pass, Marley, it’s not worth getting suspended from tomorrow’s game” James urged her with a pleading glance.

Rosier sniggered to Snape “I saw the little chubby one staring at the redhead mudblood earlier, she must had something special to get them all worked up”

Okay screw keeping the peace, James was out of his seat. And so was Marley… and so was Sirius. But he was just not going for the Slytherins, he standing in front of her, back to Snape and Rosier. He had his arms wrapped around Marley’s waist, trying his best to stop the lunging girl. James felt small quick relief, Sirius had Marlene. If things turned physical, which it would with Marlene, she had a good ex but much preferred a punch, they would definitely have to forfeit tomorrow’s game. He glanced away from the focus of the two for just a second, taking in the whole scene as Rosier said “She’s got all of you wrapped around her finger, maybe I ought to give her a try.”

Marlene went to lunge again but James knew Sirius could hold her steady. He went to turn back and give the pair of Slytherins his mind but suddenly he was more focused on Marlene and Sirius. They had exchanged a few words but now it was time for Snape to cut in “Yeah Black control your girl” welp. James knew that wasn’t good. Back in 5th year Marlene had dated Luke Wilson for a few months and hated being called “his girl” She was not a piece of property. James knew the chances for the game tomorrow were gone, or so he thought but then Sirius just leaned into Marlene and whispered something in her ear. She slowly relaxed and let her feet back down onto the floor. Marlene never relaxed that easily, especially with the way things had been going for her today. Then with one arm still wrapped around her waist, Sirius used his free hand to push a piece of hair behind her ear. James suddenly felt like he was invading in a private moment. A private moment between his best friend and his sister.

What. The. fuck.

Before James could even blink, Marlene straightened her robes and excused herself. James whipped his head to Sirius. Sirius looked at James like everything was perfectly normal, like he didn’t just stroke Marlene’s hair and comfort her. He gave a quick shrug and then agreed with Lily to go check on Marlene. The whole group went to get up and James was still stunned for movement before storming ahead of the rest of the 6th years. He found Marlene pacing out in the corridor. James charged ahead, he wanted answers.

“What the hell was that?” He couldn’t help but raise his voice.

“Oh, sorry Jamie, I know I should have let it go but its just been a long day” Marlene sighed letting her shoulders hang.

James wasn’t mad at her outburst, how could she think that. This just got him more worked up, why was she not answering. “Jamie” that was she had always called him. She was the only person he allowed to call him that, it was their thing.

“I don’t care about that… what the fuck was that” James knew he wasn’t making a ton of sense but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, so waving his hands around like a mad man would have to suffice. Marlene just stared at him with a face of confusion.

“James…”

Oh yeah that bastard was still here. During this whole thing James had been processing things at lightning speed and thinking everything through but at the sound of Sirius’ voice James didn’t think, he just whipped around and punched Sirius. Sirius stumbled a little but remained on his feet. James was seething. Marlene was his everything, he would give his life for her. She was the first person outside of his parents he ever loved, it wasn’t romantic but that’s what made it so special because he felt so much love for her it went beyond lust.

“James, its not-“ it’s not what he thinks?! Was he actually about to say that? What else could it be. Sirius had been sneaking around with his Marley behind his back, after he promised he would stay away from her. Sirius had taken advantage of her, her willingness to love everyone and want to fix broken things. James hit him again, this time knocking him to the floor

“MY SISTER?? I asked you for one thing and it was not to sleep with my sister!!” James was yelling as loud as he could. Sirius felt the blood from his nose. He lunged back at James. James was caught off guard expecting to just let him have it. They both tumbled to floor, it didn’t last long before the group was pulling them apart.

James was breathing hard. He was glaring daggers at Sirius while Marlene quickly wiped his cheek. Why was she doing that, why was she comforting her. She suddenly whipped around to James.

“What. the fuck. was. that.”

James recoiled into himself for just a moment. He took a lighter tone remember that this was his favorite person, he hoped his tone was filled with love so that she would listen to him. “Marley...”

“What. did you. Mean. He. Promised.” Oh yeah… had he said promised. He had never meant for Marley to find out about the promise. But once he explained, she would understand, he wasn’t the person she should be upset with. He was doing this for her.

“It’s Sirius, you know how he his. After fifth year anyone with eyes could see the way he was looking at you. I just wanted to keep you safe, I mean, I mean HE” but Marlene cut him off.

“You had no right to do that, James. You don’t get to hold your good deeds over him for a favor in return. Especially one that controls MY life.” Marlene was still glaring up at him. Her voice never taking the soft tone they usually used with each other.

James released his breath and hung his head. He was tired and he hated fighting with Marlene, he just wanted to go somewhere with her and they would talk, move past this and laugh.

“James…” Sirius had started barley above a whisper.

“Don’t.” James removed any emotion from his voice but anger. He couldn’t be here anymore, he turned and left the group.

#blackinnon #sirius x marlene #my writing #marlius

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

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stellar-imagines · 5 years ago

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝S/O who’s scared of tight spaces.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Headcanons for with Midoriya and Bakugou with S/O who’s scared of tight spaces and they get stuck in an elevator and she freaks out.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ Midoriya knows a lot about you. Before you both started dating, you started out as good friends. He knew about what you liked and hated, experienced tons of things together with you as friends. His feelings for you had surfaced out of the blue and he started getting flustered when you lean a bit too close or grab his arm to pull him aside or to catch his attention. It was embarrassing the way he stuttered, avoiding your case like some lovesick puppy. But there were times where he finds himself staring at you like you were an angel that descended from heavens.

♤ He first knows that you hated tight spaces was when there was this huge crowd inside the train. You were both on the way home when it happened. Actually, it was no surprise that the train was packed since it was rush hour. You ended up being cornered to the edge with him in front of you, holding onto the handrails to avoid falling. He sees that you're all curled up and shaking. It looked like you were having a panic attack. The noises made you dizzy and nauseous.

♤ Lucky for you, Midoriya seemed to have noticed how overwhelming it was starting to get and tries to make distance between the two of you. He covered your ears to prevent you from getting even dizzier with all the noises around you. But it doesn't really do much so he starts to get worried and immediately drags you to get off at the next station. You were able to calm down after he dragged you off to a more open and vast space with lesser people.

♤ Since then, he made a mental note to himself to avoid enclosed, tight, small spaces. Although you were always unconsciously avoiding a few situations because of the irrational fear of being trapped.

♤ And there was this one time that you both got stuck in an elevator and you were outright panicking while mumbling nonsense. Something about being stuck here forever and having to share warmth and die like lonely rabbits. When you start panicking, he's panicking with you but is a bit calmer than you are.

♤ He does his best to calm you down, making sure you take deep breaths to stabilize your breathing and assuring you that you'll be safe. Midoriya holds your hand the entire time, wipes away your tears when you begin to tear up.

♤ He brings you to his room and you'll both cuddle all day until you fall asleep.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

☆ Bakugou is just freaking clueless and at lost. He doesn't know what the hell he was supposed to do. It happened all of a sudden and he was panicking a bit when you were starting to freak out. Seeing how worked up you were meant that it would be difficult for you to hear him. He could almost imagine you having negative thoughts on the situation. He acts like a kid who doesn’t have a role in a stage play, looking confused as hell.

☆ He may be insensitive at times but he knows that this is not the time to be yelling at you to calm down because it will do more harm than good. He is terrible with words so he comforts you in another way. He may be insensitive at times but he knows that this is not the time to be yelling at you to calm down because it will do more harm than good. He is terrible with words so he comforts you in another way. Expect hugs, back rubs, and a few comforting words. Actions are best when words are unable to get across. And he prefers to act than speak.

☆ The first time it happens its in a train during rush hour. Bakugou noticed that you were breathing a bit too irregularly and immediately dragged you out when the train stopped. It wasn't even your station but he didn't care, he had to make sure that you're alright.

☆ Bakugou makes sure to note of the cramped and tight spaces that you might encounter in your daily life. He doesn't suggest using the lift that much and opts for escalators.

☆ The lift that you got stuck in was only had 2 to 3 people standing in the front while you both stood at the back. Originally it was quiet with only the two of you inside, it was quite a spacious elevator so Bakugou saw that it wouldn't be a problem.

☆ It was due to a blackout that the lift suddenly stopped, and you were all told to remain calm until the power comes in. But of course, it wasn't as easy as it sounds. Bakugou rubs your back, tells you to close your eyes and focus on him only.

☆ Brings you to your room, bundle you up in blankets, grabs some snacks and cuddles you in bed while the two of you watch a movie. He even stays until tomorrow morning, even though he always complained about how bothersome it was.

Total: 847 words Published: 04.11.2019

We’re no longer accepting requests for the limited edition prompts featuring Fall and Halloween!

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ Progress is slow with requests because we’re so overwhelmed with how much we have! I’m the busy one here, it’s been only two weeks into the semester and I’m already swamped with countless of assignments. Sorry, anon, we don’t write for Kaminari..... ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! I hate tight spaces too but not to the point where I freak out. Anyway, our progress is gonna be really slow because we’re busy with our studies. So sorry to make you wait. ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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babywarg · 5 years ago

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[stephen-centric gen fic] A Merchant of Time

Note: I remember Black Jack mentioned in a prompt somewhere, but I can’t find it again. Can anyone point me to it? I just woke up this morning with this in my head and had to write it down.

If you haven’t read Osamu Tezuka’s classic Black Jack comics yet - please do. The author had a solid medical background; it shone through in the sometimes fantastic stories he wrote for this iconic (anti?)hero.

Edit: also up on AO3.

***

The cancer was supposed to have taken Eugene Strange within a year.

But before that year was up, Eugene went on a trip. It was to see an underground doctor in Japan: a miracle worker, famous for experimental and controversial medical techniques.

His wife Beverly lost contact with him for a few days. Then, suddenly, she received a phone call from him, instructing her to wire all the money in their family’s bank account to a new account he had set up in Japan.

Beverly at first resisted. It was all their money. They had three small children.

“You don’t understand,” her husband said, his voice shaking in desperation, “this is for our children. For us. I don’t want to go yet, Bev. It’s not my time.”

Beverly wept. She feared her husband had been scammed.

But she loved him. And she would do anything, if it meant there was even the slightest chance of defying fate.

So, Beverly Strange steeled herself, and did as her husband bade.

***

Two months later, Eugene Strange returned to his family in Nebraska - fully cancer-free.

But he was also changed. He was no longer the warm, funny, loving family man whom his wife knew. And whom his oldest child Stephen looked up to.

He despised the penniless state to which his family had been reduced, because of the expensive treatment that saved his life. He became obsessed with money - to the point that it seemed nothing else mattered.

He shuttled between work and his study. His family barely got to see him anymore. Young Stephen found himself having to be the “man of the house” at an early age, dealing with domestic affairs - like keeping his younger siblings in line, being strong for his mother, taking on some of the chores, speaking for the household - in ways his father couldn’t be bothered to do.

When his sister Donna died, his father wasn’t there to bury her.

Finally, the time came when Stephen had to go away to university. He wanted to see his father, at least, to say goodbye.

But his father didn’t even come out of his study to see him off.

***

Stephen wasn’t sure what drew him to medicine. There were no doctors in his family, as far as he knew. They were farmers, merchants, teachers - salt of the earth.

On the surface, it was about his sister, Donna. And all the other ways he could no longer stand feeling helpless.

But over time, he realized that it also might have been because of the doctor who had saved his father’s life.

He had never met this doctor, but the fact that his entire being was shrouded in mystery was enough to light a spark in his young mind.

Who was he? How could he have saved his father’s life, when all other doctors had given up? How come his father couldn’t speak of the procedure that had saved him, and why did he return a changed man from it?

...and what the fuck kind of name was “Black Jack”?

He toyed with the idea of looking for this doctor. Or, perhaps, meeting him at some of the medical summits or institutions he frequented.

But he knew there was little chance of that. From what he’d heard, the Japanese doctor did not even have a license to practice medicine. He was a hermit, a rogue - almost an urban legend.

Stephen might have looked up to him, because the man whom he’d loved as his father had disappeared into his obsession.

And Stephen’s propensity for charging clients exorbitant rates for lifesaving procedures...?

Well, that might have been inspired by that doctor, too.

If you could defy fate, and perform miracles beyond the abilities of ordinary humans, you had every right to ask for above-average compensation.

His father would agree. It was only fair.

***

He wasn’t supposed to survive the accident.

He was in a coma and wouldn’t wake up.

But somehow, a doctor was able to revive him. Stephen regained consciousness on that doctor’s operating table. His whole body felt heavy, though not in pain.

He could only move his eyes and his lips. He saw the doctor turn toward him. And through the haze of anaesthesia, he noticed - the man wore a medical gown that was drenched in blood. He had a skin graft on his face, over one eye.

That doctor asked him, “Do you want to live?”

What the hell kind of question was that?

“Do you want to live?” the doctor asked again.

“...Yes.” Stephen wasn’t sure the word actually escaped his lips, so he said it again, a little more loudly, “Yes.”

The doctor said, “Then you’d better be prepared for the cost.”

“Cost...?”

The doctor cited a figure.

“Can’t be serious.” Stephen wanted to laugh. He hoped he was able to.

“You don’t understand,” the doctor said. “The money you pay is for buying time. Time is not something you get more of for free. There’s always a price. A hefty one.”

As the doctor moved around the lab, getting his instruments ready (was he going to do this all alone? No - Stephen saw a little girl in a gown and cap and mask nearby, silently helping him. What was a child doing in an operating room?), he continued speaking:

“Someone who loves you heard I was in town, and thought of bringing you to me, when she realized that neither she nor any of the other doctors in your hospital could do anything. She begged me to save your hands. But it’s too late for that.”

His hands...what was that about his hands? Stephen was having a hard time following.

“Still, saving your life should be worth my asking price. Sometimes money is enough. But it seldom is.”

Stephen couldn’t understand that anymore. Staying awake meant pain had avenues to seep back in.

“How can you...be sure I’ll...pay?”

The doctor increased the amount of anaesthesia flowing into Stephen’s veins, and darkness fell.

***

Stephen would wake up in a room in the hospital where he worked - looked after by his friend and former lover, Christine.

Most of him would swiftly recover from injuries that would have been life-threatening to others, but which he would somehow managed to survive.

But not his hands. His hands would stay broken. Would never stop being in pain, never stop being a reminder of how things would never be the same.

He would hate Christine for this. Hate her for sending him to the rogue Japanese doctor who couldn’t save his hands anyway. Better to have left him to die, he said, than to have left him like this.

And it would break her heart. But he would be too heartbroken, himself, to notice.

***

The first thing he would find upon his return to his apartment was an obscenely high medical bill with no letterhead, and a bank account number in Japan. He would start selling off his expensive possessions to pay this bill.

In the end, when he was done paying, all he would have to his name was his apartment, a watch Christine had given him a long time ago, and a ton of debt. The completely untraceable bank account would be closed.

Then, Stephen would sell his apartment, use the money to look for the doctor with the two-toned face. He would travel the world, armed only with Christine’s watch and a few miserable dollars, hoping to find that doctor - or others like him, who could perform miracles. Who could save his life again.

Who could explain the very last thing he heard as he lost consciousness on that doctor’s operating table:

“You are Eugene Strange’s son. A Strange always pays.”

#stephen strange #doctor strange #gen fic #black jack #osamu tezuka #tezuka osamu #mcu

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theda-rison · 4 years ago

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Camp Nano July 2020 - Results, Discussion, and Conclusion

the Like, wow, Scoob!

Camp Nano July 2020 is done, and here are some thoughts:

I always knew that writing a comic script was going to be a learning experience - I’ve never written a comic script so it really couldn’t be anything except for a learning experience - but hoooooo boy, was it ever!

Before starting I couldn’t find anything on how long comic scripts normally are; I don’t know why, that just seems information that isn’t really shared? (If anyone knows of a resource, please send it to me!) I’m guessing it has a lot to do with there just being less comic writers than there are say, book writers and movie writers. That’s probably what happens when your interests are niche in some way, it’s just harder to find anything about them.

FORTUNATELY, I have the fancy library-bound volumes of The Sandman, and there’s excerpts of the scripts in the back. Which like… thank you @neil-gaiman, or whoever made that decision, because being able to look at an actual script and see how it’s formatted and what’s included has been the biggest help. Even the “How to Write a Comic Script!” videos I found on YouTube didn’t have example scripts which... I don’t know, I don’t get it. Please include examples, comic YouTubers. I am confusion.

Now is the time for a sexy graph, because we are the kind of people who keep Excel spreadsheets of word counts and make graphs for fun.

Anyway, let’s look at…

youtube

[Good. I was listening to As The World Falls Down by David Bowie over and over, and now this is stuck in my head again. I don’t know why I do these things to myself. Also, I love Peter Tork’s face during some of the “AAAHHHH”s lol]

I can’t remember if I stated this before or during Camp at any point, but my goal was 60k words. I dislike aspiring for un-round numbers like “1667″ every day. Any number I could possibly pick is arbitrary, but for some reason the classic Nanowrimo number of 1667 seems even more arbitrary. “2000″ is a much better number. And, I can generally write 2000 words in two hours before running out of steam, so it works out well. It also divides better.

Having said that, you might be thinking, “Theda, the end Actual number on your graph is a lot closer to 90k than it is 60k,” and you would be right, good eyes. Were I Brandon Sanderson and you were one of my students, I would toss you a gummi bear. As it is, you’re not my student and I have no gummi bears and I’m not even Brandon Sanderson… so life is just upsetting I guess.

[But I am back to listening to As The World Falls Down, so I suppose it all works out.]

Back to the graph: The Actual. Look at this wavy-fucking-scalloped-fucking progression. Look at it. I can’t tell if it makes me happy or angry or what, but I know it gives me some kind of feeling. I think I like it from a purely aesthetic point of view, but from the point of the view of the person who made it, it annoys me.

I had a couple of days where I - in my infinite stupidity - didn’t really elaborate on what was supposed to happen in some of the scenes in my scene list and so I spent my “Writing!” time (as it’s labeled in my planner) not writing, but looking at the page cursing myself for not having written any directions for me, a directionless person.

You may also notice that the Goal bars suddenly jump up on the 24th day,. That’s because - in my infinite wisdom - I redid my goals after reaching 60k. It just makes more sense to me to be like, “Well, I punched that goal in the face. Let’s try and go WAY overboard,” because I have the Too Much gene and as Henry Rollins says: “Don't do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts.” I wouldn’t say that’s a personal philosophy so much as a Thing I Am Compelled To Do Or I Will Die.

But that’s just me.

As for the trend line, I prefer it looking more steep because that’s way more gratifying, but that’s what I get for writing parts of my scene list like, “That’s okay, Future Me will take care of it!” Past Me, you are a dick and you need to stop doing these things. You are a bastard.

Now for the table!

[I’m sorry if that’s very small.]

And this time I’m showing you the actual table I use to write down my words. Complicated? Yes. Sexy? Very yes. A little annoying? Also yes. Do we get a little worried that she works too hard and refuses to take a vacation? We do, but we also know that she does it because she loves her work, and we love and support her and bring her snacks throughout the workday to keep her going. What a great table.

First of all: Yes, my first writing block is at 4am. It’s because I have a day job and if I write from 4-6 I can use my brain right when it’s freshly slumbered instead of using it for nonsense at work all day and being unable to write and aggravated because my mental capacity is nil and I no longer know what words are. In an ideal world I would be able to write all day but, here we are.

You might notice there’s a lot of 0’s in the 4am block, especially in the fourth week, and that’s more so because - in my infinite infiniteness (infinity?) - I am secretly an ice giant (but like, smaller) and it’s summer and the northern hemisphere is Too Hot and I literally will not be able to sleep at night until about December. Until then, I am forced to understand what it’s like to be a jacket potato for half of the year so I can empathize with their starchy pain because this is, for whatever reason, Important.

It me. (Recipe)

Anyway,

My record day was 7519 on the 10th, which is just sexy and fun and cool and everything we want, and my lowest was a big fat 0 on the 16th.

I felt super motivated for reasons I don’t remember on the 10th. This is because I didn’t have my planner yet and was not keeping notes anywhere else at that time. (It’s an undated Daily Passion Planner, in case you’re also a slut for planners and wish to know ;) ). I think I was trying to do a 10k day just for funzies? Which, technically, at 2k words in 2 hours I should be able to do 10k in 5, but cell phones exist (and are too distracting), and until I shed my corporeal form I still have to do things like “make food and eat it,” and “get up to pee,” and “experience all the vagaries and horrors of human existence.” I’m hoping it clears up soon.

The 16th was the day that Future Me took Past Me by the hand and said, “My good bitch, you need to stop doing that thing where you leave shit for me because you run out of motivation or executive function or whatever the fuck is happening where you decide you don’t want to do something anymore, seemingly at random. You deciding to leave school before the day even started because you were bored may have been cute when you were a kid - and also annoying for everyone around you, and just alarming that time they had to pry your hands off the door molding as you held on to it and screamed - but as an adult you are both the cause of and the person who has to deal with this bullshit, and you need to stop.”

On the 16th I went to the Shrine of the Self (sorry, I’ve been reading a lot of manga lately) and made an offering for forgiveness, and then hunkered down and added a TON of notes and partially written scenes to my scene list. You can see how much that helped; it’s almost like having direction is actually useful, lol.

BUT, despite all that direction and despite punching my goal in the face, breaking it’s glasses, and taking it’s lunch money, the script is not finished!

Here’s some math as of the 23rd:

There are 124 points in my outline On the 23rd, I had completed 44 of those points, at 363 pages or 59,601 words 124 / 44 = 2.81 Now we check: 44 * 2.81 = 123.6 (close enough) So as of the 23rd, the projection for completing the script was: 363 * 2.81 = 1,020 pages 59,601 * 2.81 = 157,479 words

Now, I don’t know what the fuck that means because I don’t really do numbers, but at the time of the 23rd it looked an awful lot like I wasn’t going to finish this Camp project. And uh… hey, that was correct.

So I’m going to be continuing Camp Nano July 2020, but also in August 2020, over about 20 more days (providing I hit my goal every day.)

So:

IF -> I need to get up to 158,000; 158,000 - 86,000 = 72,000 words need to be written. (I'm rounding the total up because I canNOT imagine this script being somehow smaller than that at this point, and I’m rounding my Camp total down because who cares about 72 words?) I divided 72,000 from a few numbers until I got a word goal I was okay with, that I think I can do, here’s that one: 72,000 / 20 days = 3,600 words a day (This would mean I can either do 2k in the morning and then 1600 later, or the reverse. You know, whatever way I feel spicy that day.) THEN -> I need to write 3,600 words a day for 20 days to (hopefully) finish this script before work picks up at the end of August.

And then I’ll chill from the end of August - October (except for maybe some short stories or essays. I have a lot of Thoughts and they need to be purged from my brain for my own good). And then I’ll use Nanowrimo Classic (November) to edit this fucker.

SO… that’s some stuff.

As I said at the beginning this endeavor was only ever going to be a learning experience. Having to write 158k words total doesn’t scare me, the longest thing I’ve written yet was something like 190k words. Trying to finish it before the end of August is the daunting part. Especially since being able to be creative right now just keeps making my brain puke out more ideas, and then there’s too many ideas and I’m just writing them all down and hopefully I can get to them later.

Anyway, good job on Camp Nano July 2020 everyone! We did it!

And if you didn’t do it: don’t worry, you’ll do it next time :D

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yellow-r-o-s-e · 5 years ago

Text

NEURODIVERGENT

There’s definately something wrong with Roman. He just wants to know what it is

Word Count: About 4500

Warnings: lots of talk of assorted mental illnesses, including PTSD, depression, anxiety, and anorexia, pretty detailed description of a panic attack, self deprecating feelings, mentioned past abusive relationship, imposter syndrome, implied gaslighting, let me know if there’s anything else I need to put, I don’t know how to do this, there is a happy ending but please be safe

Notes: This is a fanfic of the wonderful “Love and Other Fairytales” by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. It’s technically a Sanders Side fanfiction, but you don’t need to know anything about Sanders Sides for her story to make sense. It’s a really amazing modern fairy tale, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who somehow hasn’t read it yet. Also the story below probably won’t make any sense without the context.

In her story, a few of the main characters (Virgil and Logan) are autism coded, which I can relate to a lot with my ADHD, and I ended up projecting said ADHD on a different character, Roman Gage. It’s a bullet fic because it’s so long it would take me a week to write it all out, and also it’s very self-indulgent and I put my own self-insert OC in because noone can stop me from having fun. Not edited because we die like men. Enjoy!

————————————

It starts on what should be a perfect day. It’s early September, Logan is off at a “fairy” lesson with Virgil. It’s not too humid anymore, it’s cooled down just enough to be comfortable. And Roman thinks it would be a perfect day for hunting in the woods

Except as soon as he thinks about hunting, he thinks about h i m and he’s suddenly nauseous

But it’s fine, Roman’s fine, besides he has lots of people to talk about it with now. His bfs know and are supportive, and Mamaw knows too now. He doesn’t even miss Dee that much…

And oh mother gothel he does not feel good he needs to think about something else

He suddenly remembers that he is in fact currently having a picnic with Patton and he should focus on that

And he’s aware that Patton just asked a question but he doesn’t know what Patton asked, And he feels really bad but he just smiles and asks Patton to repeat himself

He wishes he could actually pay attention to his bf the first time but life hates him apparently, and Patton’s talking very slowly and carefully because his lessons are helping but he’s still afraid of hurting Roman. And heck if that doesn’t make Roman feel even worse

Anyways, Patton says he’s concerned that Roman hasn’t eaten anything, and offers to go somewhere else for food if Roman doesn’t want picnic

And Roman just laughs and says he’s fine, he just ate a big breakfast. Except. He didn’t eat breakfast at all. He doesn’t know why he said that but now he’s panicking inside as he continues to talk to Patton on the surface level. He’s not trying to not eat on purpose, he’s just really not hungry much

So he’s very worried about himself now as he realizes he’s been skipping meals like crazy recently. He knows he’s not anorexic because like, it’s not intentional. He just keeps forgetting his body needs food to survive??? Is that a normal thing to happen???

Ten minutes maximum pass before he’s spilling all of this to Patton because he’s Very Worried and they’re trying to be more open with each other anyways

And Patton, who’s already been worried about Roman since the whole ’planning to die to save his friends without telling anyone’ thing, is like “have you considered speaking to a doctor”

Roman’s like “Mamaw hates the physician” and then Patton reminds him he’s an actual adult and long story short a few days later he’s having a meeting with Dr. Sherwood

He’s being asked all the standard questions and he’s just realizing ‘oh no, there’s definitely something wrong with me’. He’s having trouble sleeping, trouble eating, trouble focusing, things that used to make him happy don’t anymore…. And Dr. Sherwood says he probably has depression

Which honestly makes a little too much sense after all the heartbreak and loss and isolation and abuse and whatnot

He gets officially diagnosed shortly after

There’s no therapist in Wickhills but Dr. Sherwood offers to prescribe antidepressants

But antidepressants can be very finicky and Roman’s not in immediate danger or anything so he figures he’ll just try Mamaw’s potions and whatnot for now and maybe change later

He’s very afraid to tell Mamaw but surprise, she’s not mad at all. Well, she’s a little upset that he thought he had to sneak away to go to the doctor

They talk, and depression treatment is a lot more complicated than just a quick spell but they agree to be more honest with each other when they’re having bad days (because May’s physical health is not doing great either)

He talks to the bf squad too, and he feels guilty telling them for some reason. He doesn’t want to be someone for them to take care of, y’know, he wants to be the one taking care of them

They’re all like “Roman shut up you’re beautiful and talented and amazing and we love you”. Patton reminds him that he literally planned the picnic they just had. And the entire summer he was like, stargazing or serenading or painting with one of them at least once a week

They remind him that it’s okay for the roles to reverse every once in a while. It's literally not healthy to never ask for help, even if you don’t have depression

He’s already been unofficially working with Patton’s parents for a while and he has a long talk with the Wallers about it and 1) it’s not like they could replace him if they wanted 2) they still want to keep an eye on their son’s bf and learn more about what he’s doing (He doesn’t actually let much slide but they can hope) and 3) they’re nice people

so they work on making his hours flexible but not too flexible so he can miss work if he’s not feeling good but he still feels needed and has responsibility. It’s a struggle but everyone’s doing their best

Plus the Wallers are practically trying to adopt Roman in their son’s absence so it’s not like they wouldn’t be doing this anyway

And Roman starts to feel, not great, but more in control of his life at least

And there are always the good days, it’s almost always good when he visits his bfs, he starts liking acting again more, he starts getting excited about musicals again

And now that he’s a knight and he’s making good memories with Virgil, the woods aren’t making him feel icky anymore

And all the squad talk to him and promise to not undercut his happiness when it’s there. They work to not overreact when he’s surprised to be happy, and tell him he’s never annoying, he’s always free to ramble about whatever he’s excited about

And soon he’s looking into theater college applications, and he’s hanging out with Thomas and Remy, and he sees some touring Broadway shows (Wicked, The Lion King and Mary Poppins) in Cleveland, and Bell and him and sometimes Virgil are hunting in the woods again, and he’s a knight which is amazing, and he has self-confidence again,

And Logan found a perfect college which Roman is very happy about, seeing as he’s the one who did THAT to get Logan a chance to go to college a while ago. And Logan invites Roman to go on his college visit with him (along with Thomas). And Roman does feel a bit guilty because he feels like the only reason he was invited is because of the whole fae deal

But it’s fine, he’s happy to be going with Logan anyways

Virgil says he’ll be fine with Patton, they manage to find a flight that won’t go over any rivers (they don’t know what would happen but they don’t want to risk it). They’re all packed up for a few days and Logan is so happy he’s glowing

Roman can’t stop smiling either tbh, he just nods and listens to Logan rambling about how cool the greenhouses are. And it’s perfect

Until suddenly,,, it’s not???

Because the airport is Too Loud, which he tries to ignore

And something deep inside of him is afraid of Logan being away for so long because he’ll miss him but he ignores that too, it’s just excitement probably, right?

And then the plane takes off, which makes Logan a bit nauseous but it’s super fun for Roman, it’s basically a rollercoaster, right? He gives lots of comforting forehead kisses and Thomas is jokingly like ‘ew affection’

But then?? The seat belt buckled signs are still on? And Roman cannot move?

He’s trapped in the seat, trapped in the plane

Cannot

Move

And it’s So Loud all of a sudden. And he doesn’t even realize he’s frozen until he’s calming down and Logan is Squishing him

And they talk about that a bit and claustrophobia is normal it’s fine

And the trip goes pretty well. Actually, no, it was better than pretty well. Logan found his college and it’s perfect and Roman needs to stop being so Selfish and judging the trips success by his own experience

But Roman is still just worried about Logan leaving, what if he ends up hating the school? What if he gets trapped?

And he’s having flashbacks to the college visit before that ended terribly. Because he still hasn’t really forgiven himself for how upset Logan was when he got locked out of Wickhills after brief freedom. And he Does Not want to hurt Logan again

And then the intrusive thoughts start coming and he can’t stop them. And he’s worried about a ton of things that would never happen

What if Dee’s curse is still there somehow and when they get back Logan’s locked out of Wickhills?

That doesn't even make sense, stop-

What if Logan doesn’t actually want to go to college and he’s just faking because he feels bad for Roman, and he’s going to be miserable here?

Logan can’t even lie and why would he do that?

What if- stop

What if- Stop!

And this has definitely been happening for a while, he realizes, it’s just been much harder to ignore on the trip, where he can’t just block out the thoughts by picking apples (not that that works very well either)

So he talks with Logan and Thomas on the plane ride home and then he does a few google searches while waiting for luggage when they get back

And he’s now 100 percent sure that he’s been having anxiety attacks and/or panic attacks, like, several times a day

And he sees the doctor very shortly after getting back into town

It takes him 20 minutes to get diagnosed with general anxiety

Dr. Sherwood asks ‘is this happening very frequently?’ and Roman asks how often frequently is and it’s about once a week apparently. Which is laughably low compared to Roman. So now he knows that he has both depression and anxiety

His family and bfs know and they’re doing their best to supportive

Roman has a whole bunch of exercises he can do

So now it should be better, he knows what’s going on, right?

But he doesn’t feel any better At All. In fact, it seems to be getting worse by the day

And a lot of Roman’s panic attacks are just him being afraid he’ll have a panic attack and then be a burden. Which is so dumb and cyclical and he knows his bfs won’t be mad but that doesn’t stop it from happening

At least Logan and Thomas know how to deal with panic attacks and help him. And the bf squad all learns they can tell him when he’s being unreasonable. But the trouble is sometimes he absolutely knows he’s being unreasonable and he keeps doing it

He tries to go on meds for a cool minute but he doesn’t get better he just gets exhausted. And May’s potions are more personally suited to him anyways. Not that he’s good about taking those either

But it’s fine he’s strong he can handle it it’s fine it’s okay

Cut to a few months later around late winter

There’s a bright moon, the woods are all quiet, and it’s honestly just so soft and relaxing. And Roman’s enjoying being a knight and chilling with Bell and Virgil

There’s not even anything bad happening that they need to deal with, or anything to hunt down, they’re just kind of chilling in the woods on horseback

Bell’s catching Virgil up on fairyland happenings that he missed because he pays more attention to Patton than the actual court; Roman’s catching him up on what Logan and Elliot are up to

And then, it’s such a small thing, it shouldn’t ruin there night or even pause it, But as they’re laughing and Roman playfully punches Bell and Virgil rolls his eyes

This absolutely harmless garter snake rubs against Roman’s leg

And he’s just instantly Not Okay At All

And Virgil notices immediately and just glares back to see what hurt Roman, thinking some idiot fae with a death wish played a trick on him

Virgil’s really angry but trying to look calm for Roman and he meets eyes with Roman for half a second

Roman sees something incredibly familiar in his eyes and now he’s Even Worse

Virgil takes a very limp and frozen Roman who’s smiling a little too blankly and agreeing with everything V says back to fairyland and is talks to him soothingly but it takes Roman a very long minute before he’s even talking

And Virgil’s just a complete mess

And when he finds out that it wasn’t someone hexing Roman or anything, it was just his a snake that wanted to move and V’s stare, he just switched to exhausted

There might be a bit of crying on both of their parts but don’t tell anyone

And Roman wants to talk more but his voice isn’t working and he’s stuttering a lot

And every question Virgil asks about his comfort (do you want me to call the others? Do you want me to take you home?) makes Roman even more stressed so eventually he ends up snuggling with Roman in that bed for the night

And Bell checks in on them later and is very obviously a part of the Kill Dee Again squad

It had been like 2 months since Roman had the nightmares and he’s never had panic attacks like this before, he doesn’t know what’s happening

He doesn’t know why Dee’s still haunting him? What did he do wrong when he tried to forget him?

He has nightmares but Virgil’s afraid to wake him up, he might completely break down again, and Virgil doesn’t even know what he’d say anyways

He doesn’t think breaking down sobbing again would help

Roman wakes up in the morning just exhausted and starts crying again anyways

He tries to talk but it goes badly so he ends up communicating with Virgil through writing, which is much easier, though his hand is shaking and the paper is tear stained

And Virgil’s just absolutely heartbroken by how helpless Roman looks

Roman tried to apologize for not being able to talk but Virgil points out that he and Logan have trouble talking without thinking first for fae reasons and so does Patton, Roman isn’t going to be a burden on the group by being the same as everyone else

And Logan comes in lead by Bell

And he’s the calm that the other two need right now

He’s stressed too obviously but he translates his stress into logical thinking

And the word PTSD comes into the conversation for the first time

So guess who gets another diagnosis? Our boy

He finds out that PTSD symptoms often take a while to show up, he hopes it will disappear again but who knows

Not him

And the symptoms cross over (avoidance, sluggishness, panic) so it ends up replacing the other two diagnoses

So that means that he doesn’t have depression and anxiety after all??? It was just PTSD?

And Roman blindly agrees because these appointments are becoming habitual

But it doesn’t feel right?

Because there’s still something about him that feel distinctly Not Normal that PTSD itself can’t explain

Because some of his restlessness, unhappiness, recklessness, has existed since before he made the deal

So he feels like he might be faking PTSD because it can’t possibly ALL be caused by Dee

And be feels like he’s being unfair to Dee and heck if that’s something he can just say to his bfs without them getting on his case

He knows it’s dumb so it shouldn’t be a problem anyways

Hahahahaha

On a different note he’s still not sleeping anywhere near a normal amount

Dizzy says it’s because “Night Roman” screwed up his sleep schedule

Then there’s also the nightmares

And the lingering feeling that he’s slacking off while sleeping, he should be working on something else

So he talks to Dizzy and does research and he’s not sure if it counts because of his strange specific situation, but he decides he has insomnia in some way or another

And that’s an easy fix with potions (it’s not, they don’t work for long)

And then, before he can blink, he’s in college, and school is a thing

And he Loves acting, he Loves all the literature, he Loves picking his own classes and making new theater friends and speaking other languages with people

But then, during the “actual classroom classes” it’s not good all the time

There is something deeply uncomfortable about being stuck in a chair for multiple hours

Where you have to be somewhat quiet and pay attention to what the teacher is talking about

Like, you have to go at Their Speed, not yours

And he realizes that maybe it’s been like that for a while

Maybe it was his year off that made him realize it, maybe Wickhills is just that different

But he doesn’t like doing his general ed classes

Which is weird because he loves learning

And he’s super focused most of the time, but sometimes he just can’t hear the teachers?

And he remembers homework perfectly UNLESS he writes it down

And he can’t convince himself to do math and science homework no matter how hard he tries but he doesn’t tell anyone just pretends he’s purposely ignoring it

Oh and also whenever people criticize his acting or essays it’s physically painful but that’s probably not a big deal

Oh and schedule changes are the literal worst thing to ever happen in his life

So he thinks he might have hearing problems which is why he misses that they have homework or can’t hear people talking no matter how hard he tries

So he’s tested for hearing loss, tested for tinnitus and nothing

And then he realizes he sometimes struggles to read and write the correct way? He loves literature but he finds out that to other people, the words are not usually messed up like that

So he tries dyslexia, vision problems, dysgraphia, and still just nothing fits quite right

And maybe he’s making excuses and he’s actually just too dumb to be in advanced literature?

So he starts worrying that maybe he just wants to be special

Maybe he doesn’t have any mental illnesses, except just hypochondria

Except as soon as he starts considering hypochondria, OCD comes up

Because he feels incredibly, obsessively worried about everything

And there are times when he just has to do something other than pay attention and maybe those are compulsions

But maybe he’s wrong because the compulsions aren’t usually about fears, he just wants to wiggle around, click his pens, etc.

And that’s when he starts considering Tourettes

But that doesn’t work either because it’s not that severe, he’s way more able to resist impulses than he should be

And Tourettes wouldn’t explain enough anyways

So we’re like halfway through Roman’s freshman year and he’s just very confused?

Is he neurotypical? Does he have every mental illness ever? He doesn’t know

He still has a PTSD diagnoses but hasn’t been triggered as badly as that first time again, so he’s not even sure if he had That

And then Logan comes home for winter

And he’s very happily explaining how college is going in Maine

They already know lots but it’s fun to hear it in person

And Roman asks if anyone suspects he’s a fairy and if that’s causing problems and Logan says most people probably just think he’s autistic

And Roman is confused because that doesn’t seem at all?? related???

But Logan and Virgil start explaining autism and it does make a lot of sense and

Wait a minute is that what he is??????

So Roman just doesn’t freaking sleep for a week after Logan goes back to school because he’s researching autism nonstop

And it doesn’t feel right but he doesn’t know if it’s because of stigma or something else

It doesn’t feel like a bad word when he uses it to describe Logan but that could just be self deprecation he doesn’t know

And the ice cream bar model makes it really hard to tell because there’s so many options

And some of the symptoms are other mental illnesses

So he decides to just go with it for now, try it out as a label in his own head

He doesn’t tell anyone because that makes it more real and stressful and he’d feel guilty if he was wrong

But he starts using headphones to block out noise, gets himself some fidget toys to use in class, he learns that he likes certain stimuli and dislikes others (that’s not proof though that’s every single person, isn’t it?)

he starts getting better at writing conversations down first, bringing index cards actually makes him look smarter, not useless like he feared

So he still feels guilty because he’s pretty sure he’s not actually autistic and he doesn’t tell the boys

He can actually lie unlike some of the squad

And they’re all so used to getting “the world is too loud” from V and L that they don’t even realize something is different

Because remember, they’ve been hanging out with Roman for years, he’s always been restless and argumentative, and outside the college the main difference they see is he’s happier

So cut to a few months later

In some general ed class which Roman despises but that’s life

He’s partnered with the “smart girl” of the class, Serena Miller, on a group project

Which is very lucky because he has no idea what the heck is going on it’s way too theoretical for him

And she’s super patient, and they actually really click and they’re becoming good friends from they’re meetings

They’re hanging out more and more after school and she happily explains mathematical paradoxes and knot theory and he talks about the plots of different musicals

And they both just nod along half the time because they don’t completely understand, but the human interaction is very nice

And anyways Roman has this sudden realization that maybe she’s flirting with him and she’s just doing all of this with the expectation that they’re going to date

He just freaking blurts out “I’m gay and also taken” because God gifted him with chivalry, not subtlety, okay?

She’s confused and pauses for a second

Like “good for you but what does that have to do with three dimensional coordinate systems”

And he’s very awkwardly like “oh sorry I was afraid you were flirting with me”

She’s like “lol sorry for freaking you out, I just really like math, and I tend to latch onto other ADHD people because they’re just so much easier to talk to”

And Roman’s like what did you say???

So after a very long and repetitive conversation he realizes she’s ADHD and also 100 percent convinced he’s ADHD too

He says “wait a minute I don’t have ADHD?” and she’s not even like “oh you don’t?” she’s like “oh, you didn’t know?”

She’s still writing out math problems for the research as this is going on BTW she’s a fidgety girl

So, long story short they head off to a cafe to talk more without being in the middle of a library

And they meet up with a bunch of Serena’s friends, a lot of which Roman knows from theater

There’s Jaclyn Steele who played his love interest when their college did Footloose (they were Ren and Ariel)

And Aïsha Pérez who did a Romeo and Juliet monologue with him a while ago

And Gabriella Clay who’s absolutely going to be on Broadway soon, she already was on it as young Nala in the Lion King when she was thirteen, noone has any doubts that she’s going back

They talk about ADHD, how it’s not actually being unable to focus

ADHD people are actually very good at focusing on things a lot of the time, it’s just difficult to switch tasks

And they can experience sensory overload too

He finds out about RSD, which is a side effect of ADHD basically translates to “misinterpriting wjat people say to think they hate you” disorder, and that explains so many things

And it also has side effects of not being able to speak very well when stressed, so that explains a lot to

And he finds out that literally All of These Girls have ADHD???

No wonder they were so easy to hang out with?

They’re all on the same wavelength

He’s really afraid that having ADHD means he’s broken for a second, but Aïsha explains that it’s not even a mental illness, it’s just a neurodivergence

“Your brain doesn’t work worse than other peoples’ brains, it just works different”

And yeah, they agree it’s a lot like autism

Gabriella was actually misdiagnosed with autism when she was little so she talks a lot more with him about how similar they are

They end up having a sleepover in Serena and Gabriella’s dorm room

(Roman callshome to let Virgil and May know not to worry about him)

They’re all spread out on the floor with blankets, watching the office bloopers on a cracked Ipad until 5am and it’s the best Roman’s felt in weeks

And it’s not like he’s “cured” now but it feels so so so good to know he’s not alone

He ends up talking to Dizzy (who’s supportive but doesn’t understand exactly why Roman cares so much), then Mamaw (who’s happy for him if a bit confused by his excitement, he didn’t really tell her too much about the Search for a label), then the bf squad who’re mostly like ‘heck yeah none of us are at all normal’

And Patton’s not in desperate need of a diagnoses but he says he’s def not neurotypical, and he’s probably not allistic

Roman’s afraid of visiting the doctor again for fear of being denied a diagnosis

He doesn’t know what he’d do if he was told he was wrong

But Patton talks to Emile (with permission of course), and Emile gets help from his own Psychology professors and ends up doing 90% of the paper work and helping Roman with the exact criteria for diagnosis, so Roman has no doubts by the time he walks in to the hospital

Emile is also like oh that’s cool me too so that’s how Roman finds out that Emile is ADHD too

Eventually Roman does get an actually diagnosis and medication that works WITH his ADHD, not against it

And it turns out ADHD isn’t exclusive of the other things he considered, he probably did have actual PTSD and depression and anxiety and maybe more, but at least he has the root cause of so much of what makes him different

Emile also mentions there are a few other weird towns and offers to help get Roman a therapist who wouldn’t freak out about Wickhills

A few months later he ends up video conferencing Dr. Aaliyah Dixon from New Orleans and she doesn’t bat an eye at his talks about making a deal with the fae and having his memories magically separated

So he’s not “cured” by any means, but he knows who he is now, his boyfriends know how to help, he has college friends to bond with, and he’s absolutely not alone

#love and other fairy tales #sander sides fanfiction #roman sanders #adhd #mental illness tw #anxiety tw #panic attack tw #ptsd tw #self depricating thoughts tw #depression tw #i hope thats enough #just know it talks a lot about mental illness #and neurodivergence #its not anti autism or anti adhd but other things like depression and ptsd are actual nuissances so hopefully I managed to convey that #violet if youre reading this i love your fic youre the coolest

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