#how much of hero’s mask is built off of being so so careful to not hurt kel like that again. and the idea that He’s All Kel Has.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I feel like I'm 15 again. Todoroki was my first BNHA love, it's only fair that he gets a little something.

Shoto, who has had his eye on you ever since his UA days. He was enrolled in the hero course while you were in the general course, leading a completely separate life from his own. You had your own interests, hobbies, friends.

It was so beautiful to admire, from a safe distance of course.

Shoto was aware of his popularity amongst the student body due to his powerful quirk and impeccable grades. Whenever he would walk down the hall to class the murmurs of hundreds of students would follow, their beady and curious eyes either glaring daggers of envy or were in absolute awe of him.

Either way, he did not care, not for any single one of them. He was never too keen to call the people around him "extras" in the same way Bakugo did but whenever he would catch sight of you in the hall, every single possible distraction really did become a hassle. His cool mask was always under the dangerous threat of melting at the mere sight of you, it would even triple if you talked to, or if God was feeling merciful, accidentally touch him. His mask of indifference would slip for a brief second, dual eyes widening in shock as he would get a whiff of your perfume and would curse the fact that there were so many people around.

If he could die with his nose buried in your neck, it would be the sweetest way to go.

Shoto would become paranoid of the thought of being discovered. Sometimes, just sometimes when he was feeling just a little bit bolder than usual, he would press himself just ever so closer to you in the cramped hall and would take in every nook and cranny he possibly could. The average student would think nothing of this as he was probably just in a rush to get to class. He would also always apologize politely, Shoto would even try giving you a sweet smile while doing so.

However. The people who knew Shoto were not your average students.

Bakugo was not known for his subtlety and that legacy still lives on. On a Friday evening when the last bell had rung and the classroom was empty, the hotheaded lad trapped Shoto in a corner.

"Just say how you feel dumbass." Bakugo had said, his gruff tone slightly quieter than usual.

At least he had enough grace to not be a complete jackass.

With his eyes closed and lips pressed in a thin line Shoto had shook his head in defiance. Bakugo made the entire situation sound so easy, as if Shoto could just walk up to you and ask to hang out. You were a kind person and would most likely say yes, but Shoto was not so sure if you could handle the sheer intensity of his feelings. This, whatever this was, was all consuming, it left Shoto feeling breathless and restless, for who knows how long. You made him lose focus but you also made him so much stronger at the same time. He would space out in class a bit too often for comfort, which lead to Aizawa scolding him until the tips of his ears turned red.

This was so much more than a simple crush.

Bakugo shrugged his shoulders and exited the classroom. "Whatever you say icy hot. Just don't start crying if things don't go down the way you want them to."

Time passes, you all graduate. Shoto still pines helplessly from a distance but he has gotten just a little bit closer to you. Sometimes you meet up and hang out, he could always feel the tips of his fingers twitching in anticipation, eager to hold you but he kept his distance.

He didn't want to scare you off.

Even more time has passed and Shoto is a professional hero now. He is an honest worker and has built up a strong reputation. Everyone wants to be him or be with him.

But he still wants you.

Even after all these years, he still longs for your touch. He longs to be the only man in your life, the one you come home to.

Shoto watches you from his office window, his eyes glued to you and the person you were so lovingly fondling over. He grits his teeth and clenches his fist so tight that his knuckles turn white as snow.

That should be him down there. He should be the one who gets to hold you, touch you, kiss you.

It should be Shoto Todoroki who you love. Not whoever that extra is. He swiftly turns his gaze away from the window, a sick amusement coming over him. "Extra" really was a fitting term for whoever was down there.

Shoto should have listened to Bakugo all those years ago. He should have listened to him. He may be a cocky loudmouth but he was right and you had slipped right away from him.

Finally, it was time to take matters into his own two hands. He was done longing and lingering in the shadows. He wasn't too keen on manipulating the hero system he swore to protect but damn it all. It had to be done.

Killing your little lover was so easy, it came to him like breathing. The beauty of his quirk that it was so versatile, he could come up with so many creative ways into disposing that pesky thorn in his side. Hot flames and horrid ice marred the flesh of your little lover but Shoto was clever. Oh yes, Shoto was indeed so clever as he made sure to keep the physical torture to the minimum, just in case someone decided to get smart and start suspecting him.

Besides, it was so much more impactful to gloat over his victory. He was the one who was going to take care of you for the rest of your days together.

Not even death could tear you away from him.

Shoto watched the life being snuffed away from the poor sucker as he cried and spat out pools of sweat and blood. There were no heroes here that could help him, not a single soul was in sight.

He was completely in Shoto's mercy. And he was not going to give him a single drop of it.

The pro hero tossed the lifeless body aside and hid it sloppily, because he knew that you would be worried, that people would come looking. He cleaned up the scene of the crime and secured himself an alibi, just to be safe.

Shoto started walking towards his office but the adrenaline of the encounter still pumped in his veins, his mind was all over the place.

And your face was front and center.

Instead of his original plan of waiting it out, Shoto made the hasty decision to just.... Take you. He had waited for years, and years and years. He would be gentle, naturally.

And with time, he was positive that you would come to appreciate him.

And just like that, he was at your front door, ringing the doorbell like crazy. You opened the door in a worried frenzy, dressed in your comfortable pj's which Shoto just adored.

Suddenly, he had pushed you inside of your apartment and closed the door with his foot, freezing it ever so slightly with his quirk. He pinned you to the ground, both of your arms in a single tight grip as the other ever so gently caressed your face. His gaze was wild but focused, so utterly lovesick that there wasn't a single word which could describe the range of emotions he was feeling.

Finally, after all these years Shoto had you where he wanted you. And there was nothing that could change that.

[phyrestartr]

Nemesis (The Man I Miss) | Miguel O'hara x M!BlackCat!Reader (TEASER)

CW: jealousy, violence, brutality, self-loathing, implied depression, possessive relationship #NSFW, Top!Miguel, Bottom!Reader, hurt/comfort, anti-hero reader, complicated relationships, lonely reader, crook turned hero, reader is a tired guy, mutual pining - Note: Posting some WIPs I've had laying around for a while while I try to finish up the next HOUND update! Needed a bit of a break from it since it's pretty long, but I hope some teasers make up for the wait. Tysm for reading!

Taking care of Nueva York was exhausting. You were far too used to being the problem rather than the problem-solver. That job reserved itself for the one and only Spiderman–your Spiderman. 

At least, you liked to think he was yours. 

Knowing my luck, the prick’s run off with his shocking wife or something. The thought plagued your mind too often. And it was true: Spiderman disappeared. He no longer served Nueva York and kept it safe, he no longer caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, he no longer gave chase throughout the city before pinning you down on some rooftop and taking his prize by force. And you liked it–no, you loved it. Fucking with the man who’d always get to fuck you back came to be a part of life you relished. 

But now you were alone. Left by yourself to deal with lumbering lizards and giggling goblins while wondering how the fuck you’d ended up as a hero when you were anything but. Even the police couldn’t believe the switch, which caused some problems, and led to less-sexy chases that ended with you getting away no problem. 

I wish I had problems. Just one problem, though: Spiderman. 

You tossed aside your shiny leathers and collapsed into your bed. He’d never been there, no, but you fantasized about it. You thought about his impossibly wide back and the ripple of taut muscle greeting you in the morning, or maybe his built chest and strong neck–or maybe his handsome face–well, you’d never seen his face, but you had your guesses. 

Your chest twinged the slightest bit, somewhere between where your greed and feelings intertwined.

Ugh. You missed him. 

–

“Who's that?” Peter remarked as he walked up on Miguel. The lab was dark and dreary, spilling with shades of orange and amber where the blues couldn't reach. And Miguel, the source of the cold, stood in front of the firelight, gazing upon your image in the newscycle. 

Miguel frowned. “No one.” But he didn't tuck your image nor the article away. 

“Huh, looks like Black Cat. A 2099 Black Cat? Never thought I'd see the day.” Peter hummed and bounced a sleepy Mayday in his arms. “He up to no good?” 

“He's up to good,” Miguel bit out. “That's the problem. He doesn't do good.” 

“He's sort of an anti-hero these days,” Lyla cut in, blinking into existence on Peter's shoulder like the devil she was. “All thanks to Spiderman's influence–” 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned (begged?). 

“--aaand their sweet, cute budding romance,” she finished with a dreamy sigh. “Doesn't it just melt your heart?” 

–

You pinned him against the wall and let your hands trace through the hard lines of his muscles on your way down to your ultimate prize. Spiderman shuddered and stayed still, much to your surprise, letting you feel him, letting you acknowledge the hardness bulging under your criminal touch. Because he dreamt of this too. Dreamt of you touching him, of you falling down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his masked face even when you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to stretched fabric holding back his filled cock. 

“So strong,” you cooed, “but not strong enough to resist, hm?” You sighed and worked him through the fabric with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be stopping the big bad from manhandling you like this, Spidey?”

“Hardly consider you the big bad,” he scoffed back. Spiderman tilted his head back with a choked groan whent hose diamond-tipped clawed gloves dug into his thighs. “Mierda, you–”

“Oh?” You grinned, so cheshire, so in-theme with your persona. “You can stop me any time, no?” 

He could’ve. But he didn’t. 

–

“A daughter,” you murmured. The flickering images–memories, maybe?–were there, waiting quietly for you, preserved and kept precious in shades of amber. But the scene was so alive; you could feel the stretch of the sun against your gloved touch, you basked in the crisp Spring air of that soccer game, you drowned in the warmth of that father's smile–

Spidey's smile. That was beyond obvious. The mountainous shoulders, the tawny skin, those hands– they belonged to him. Your beast. Your nemesis and lover, the man you hadn’t seen for far too long–

“Because you've been off taking care of a kid?” Your fingers, gentle, feather-light, ghosted across that foreign memory. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Who’s your baby mama?

The lab lights stilted and jittered. You snapped from your trance and made for the window you’d come in through, not bothering to see what was happening with your system jammers–you knew Lyla, she knew you, and that made the whole breaking-into-Spiderman’s-base thing more tricky and risky. Your jammer wasn’t fool-proof. It was quite easy to override, actually, but the interference was the difficult thing to detect in the first place. You only thought you’d need a handful of minutes to see your spider, anyway.

But he wasn’t there. Maybe he was off with his little girl. 

Something cacophonous and nerve-wracking churned to the sound of warping electricity behind you as you dove from the window and slid down the side of the skyscraper, claws shrieking against metal and glass alike until you could launch off and latch onto a passing hover car. The periphery of your mind swore it saw flashes of orange and yellow, more violent and heavy than the screens you stared at in that dower room, and maybe you might have heard a familiar voice too. 

The broad, tiny silhouette standing in that abandoned window gave you much more to think about.  -- Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[kkukverse]

thieves of the heart

summary: In the heart of Gotham’s night, they let the walls fall, trading sharp banter for quiet intimacy. The city’s chaos faded, leaving only the heat of their unspoken bond.

pair: batman!namjoon x catwoman!reader

genre: batman au

warnings & ratings: explicit sex scene | smut 🔞(minors dni)

wordcount: 7k

author's note: who's your favorite catwoman? so hard to choose, i'm torn between michelle pfeiffer (batman returns 1992) purely because her attitude, her wardrobe, the whip ahhh! but anne hathaway (the dark knight) was golden too! idk! anyway. hope u guys enjoy.

He is a man of control. 

Born from a long lineage of money and power, Namjoon is the most influential man in the city. It is no secret that he lost his parents. Gotham city practically bows down to his family, the Kim. How powerful is his family? Well his family is in charge of the dam that was built to run the electricity all over the city, lines of banks and corporate companies are ruled under the Kims too. It was believed that the very first generation of Kim was the founder of Gotham city. A city built from a wasteland to the most lavish city in the world. 

But everything comes with a price. 

As the only heir of the infamous Kim, his family was prone to danger. When he was a wee little boy, barely a teenager, his parents were brutally murdered in front of his eyes. Leaving him as the sole heir of Kim. After the very incident, he hides himself. No one really saw his face. He came in and out of his building with so little people know. He is just comfortable in managing his family’s empire from behind the scenes. After all, his family only hired the best of the best to assist in maintaining the legacy.

One thing that allows him to use his power for good is to help the citizens of Gotham. Namjoon wanted to be a plight of light because he saw how injustice roamed in his city. Day after day, the authority loses pitifully at the hands of the criminals. With his money he created a hero. Someone with no real name, a character that shows up when behind a mask. He became a batman.

How did he become a batman? That's another story to tell. 

Though he is a man of control, there’s only one person that can shake him to his core. 

“Namjoon,” 

“Not now, Alfred.” He walks past the old man. 

Pulling off his mask and the cape, at the first tug, the black cape was stuck and it made Namjoon yell out frustratingly. He snatched the cape until it tore from his shoulders. 

Alfred sighs, already thinking of making a new one, again. Namjoon is usually a calm man, but he sometimes forgets how strong he is. 

“Master Kim, it is my duty to remind you to keep calm. The wound on your leg is still fresh.” At the call of his formal name Namjoon flinched. Realizing he hurt his butler’s feelings. No, Alfred is much more than a butler to him. Alfred is a loyal man. Alfred has been taking care of him ever since he was born. Everything that he said is always for Namjoon’s best interest. Namjoon felt guilty at the sudden tantrum. He should’ve acted better.

“How does she always slip away so easily? It's like every time we get a trace of her, she is already four steps ahead of me,” Namjoon roughly ruffles his hair. Just thinking how he is so close to capturing the cat.

“Sly cat.” He snarled. “I swear I will not go easy on you.” Suddenly he can feel the stabbing pain on his left leg. The one that you caused. Namjoon has to go for hours of agony because you fire a crossbow just a few inches from his batmotor. Causing him to fall and being crushed by the heavy mobile. 

“May I ask, for what reason must you catch the catwoman, Namjoon?” Alfred monotonously asked. Honestly the old man is less interested in knowing the reason by now because as far as his wise age can conclude, his master and the catwoman have another issue than just chasing tails.

Namjoon just left the cave, limping. Alfred was all alone with an unanswered question. Alfred knew his master was wounded, not only on his leg, but also his heart.

“Get down right now! I swear I'll pull your legs! Look at this mess!” A piercing voice breakthroughs your dreams and almost makes you fall down from your hammock bed. The hammock was your safe haven. It is a bright orange hammock, tied so close to the ceiling because you’re the only one who can climb up to sleep there. With your legs dangling out of it, your body weighing down the hammock and Jungkook is worried that the ties will snap unless he does something about it, again. 

“What happened to your arm?!” Your best friend, big thick glasses Jungkook, gasped. He stares at the long gash from your forearm up to your elbow. “Oh dear, is this a pigsty or a house?!” He pinched on a piece of cloth he picked up on the floor while scrunching his pretty face. Hoping that they're clean.

“Kook, it's too early for this,” you yawn from the top of your bed. “I got home really late last night. Please let me rest.” You grumble. Eyes shut tight as you move your body in the tight hammock. Turning away from the nagging sounds of Jungkook.

But Jungkook is faster and he is itchy in his head the moment he sees the condition of your house. “Early, my ass. It’s evening, it's almost dusk. At what time you’re actually home?”

He climbed up the chair to smack the bottom of the hammock, hitting your butt as well. You yelped and flew out of it carelessly but managed to land on four on the floor. You fast reflexes woke you up. Wide awake.

“Fuck off!” You yelled at him.

“Poor Kitty, that trick works all the time.” Jungkook chuckles. “Now do something with your…” he sighs as his eyes caught a bunch of sparkles in the hammock. You're sleeping with jewelry, as usual “...house. Get up!” 

You love Jungkook, dearly. Best friend since highschool to be exact. He was the boy who was bullied and you’re the girl who saved the day. Just a cliche friendship trope. But really, the day you saved him was when you were too busy ‘pickpocketing’ Alex’s Superman watch as he was slamming Jungkook on the locker door. You accidentally twisted his arm and resulted in a serious pain for him and he released Jungkook. Ever since then Jungkook has followed you like a little duck.

Over the years of growing up together, both of you have been through so many hurdles and adventures. To this point, right now. He knows who you are, that's why he is special. You trusted him.

“How many times must I tell you? Trade them, cash them out for money, and we can eat grand food! Instead of weighing down your house with heavy golds and diamonds, why can't we just stuff our pitiful tummies with food?!” He nags as his busy hands are classing the clutter on the floor. You have a hoarding issue. 

“I love sparkling things, and you know that.” You pouted, with unruly hair, you're trying on a pearl necklace. Smirking at the sight in the mirror. Pulling up your hair, the necklace elongated your neck and they're just stunning! Mrs Kim knows how to live well, you sigh. His son will kill you if he finds out but nevermind.

“Why do I keep helping you to sort out your trash?!” Jungkook is inspecting a piece of painting. A big canvas of swirling colours. Jungkook doesn’t know much about art and he knows, so do you. It is a beautiful piece of art, and an expensive one.

“Really?! A Monet?! How do you even carry this!” He shouted, you winced at him but your hand was still clutching the pearls. A true picture of an aristocratic lady in a dramatic moment.

“Stop shouting!” 

“That’s it. I'm done. I'm done. No more stealing! Thieving! Next time you want something, think of a place to store them because this house is a second away from collapsing. And what that batman boyfriend of yours would think when he came over??” He babbles.

“Your mouth is moving too fast and I caught nothing.” You get up to palm your fist on his mouth. Jungkook is being too loud. You know what they say, ‘Speak of the devil and he will show up’ 

“Shut up Jungkook, he cannot catch me,” you whispered with wide eyes. Jungkook is smirking cheekily and you know it’s nothing good. 

Jungkook slaps your wrist and you let him. “Say that to this,” he fished out his phone from the back of his jeans. Swiping to find something before he yells out an Aha!

“Read!” He shoved the phone up to your face, with squinting eyes, you read the words.

“Tell her enough games, I'm coming over tonight.”

It was a message from Namjoon himself.

“You backstabbing shit! You motherfucker!” You jumped on his back, slapping his shoulders because not only Namjoon texted him but he exposed your little yet humble but also messy nest to him! You are a very territorial person. It is very unbearable to receive an unexpected visitor in your territory. You don’t like it. Simple. Not because you’re ashamed.

He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Watch out for the pearls!”

“No! How! Did! He! Know! My place?!” You emphasized on each word with a slap on his back.

“Well kitty, in case you forgot I walk in and out of his mansion everyday. I am his informant! The only person who knows his secret and yours. What do you expect?” Jungkook tried to pull you away from your body cage but he gave up. He walks to the kitchen with you still hanging on his back.

“Annoying. He is so annoying!” You grunt. “I was planning to steal a masquerade mask in the museum before his annoying ass shows up.” You whine in an unnecessary dramatic tone. 

Jungkook hums along as he pours down orange juice in a glass. “I know, I told him that too.”

“You little shit!” You karate chop Jungkook on his side neck, making him splutter out the juice. 

“Ugh!” Jungkook hunched down as the juice dripped from his chin to his beloved shirt. 

“You clean that up!” You jumped from his back and strutted down to the couch. Feeling satisfied seeing your friend in a mess. But the relieved feeling was a short one. The smug smile on your face slowly turns into a frown. Namjoon is coming and the thought of him makes you panic a little. 

“What is it that he wants this time,” you grumble. Furrowing your brows and crossing your arms on your chest. Very unamused of this situation. 

“Maybe an apology?” Suggested Jungkook. He has a good hearing and a very observant fella. 

“For what!” You barks. Jungkook raises his hands in peace. He knows better than to disturb the hissy cat.

“I don't know? Maybe because you bailed out on him when the two of you planned to ambush Bane?” Jungkook said with an unsure tone. Steadily scooches away from you. He doesn't want you to slap him again. You can be unpredictable and your moves are very agile. Jungkook shivers at the possibility of being scratched by you. He experienced it once before and nope, he is not trying his luck.

“I didn't leave him.” You mumble. Eyes casting down your toes. Wiggling them as a distraction method. “I was distracted.”

“Tell him your reason, on your own” Jungkook covers his ears as he prepares for another shout from you. He is a bit ashamed to admit that he flinched a little when you straightened your body.  

There’s nothing wrong in what Jungkook just said. 

“Namjoon is a nice dude, sometimes you’re the one who loves to tease him too much.” Jungkook adds. 

Now you're looking more like a scolded puppy instead of the feisty cat he usually knows. Jungkook likes it when he brings out Namjoon’s name to make you think rationally. Because that certain man always brings out this side soft, yet fierce of yours. He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

You're not replying. Instead you stand up to push Jungkook out of the house.

“Wait-” the door slammed on his face. 

“Ouch,” he mutters. “Call me if you need me. And clean your house! He's coming.” Jungkook reminds you again. He stepped out of the apartment complex by the back door, disappeared into the untangle maze of buildings with a bag that contained his green and black outfit. 

The robin is out to watch the city. Namjoon is counting on Jungkook to watch the day as he will be very ‘busy’.

“Open the door.” Namjoon no longer knocks as he said the words for the fifth time and yet the owner of the house is unbudged from the inside. He’s been standing at your door for half an hour now. He is a man of virtue and patience but he swears, you’re the only that pushes his button. He hates that he likes it.

You were sitting on the couch, with knees pressed to your chest. Unbothered. You want Namjoon to know that he has no effect on you at all. Despite not welcoming him to your house, the house is decently neat. The moment you pushed Jungkook out, you scrambled to clean the mess. In reality you just shoved all the jewelry in every cupboard you can find.

“Please,” his soft voice is melting you. How dare you Namjoon! You yelled to yourself.

“No.” Your voice, albeit soft, Namjoon can hear it just fine.

“Don't make me break the door, Kitten.” His dominating aura can be felt even if there's a thick door in between the two of you. You shudder at the thought of his face when he calls your pet name with that tone.

Almost mewling in surrender, you bite back your lips. Refusing to submit. You're the catwoman. The greatest, most flexible burglar, you cannot simply bend down to a man's will. 

“Fine,” Namjoon took one step back, his trench coat ruffled with his movements and your sharp ears caught that. Is he leaving already? You catwalking to the door. Being aware of making any sound. With every careful step you took, there’s not even a sound. Namjoon and Jungkook think you’re the most stealth person they know but they refuse to boost your ego. 

“I’ve warned you,” You heard the echo of his voice. So, you took another step. You were sure by the echo, Namjoon left the door. With confidence, your hands are on the door knob. Bracing yourself if he even tried to break the door. You will scratch his face if he destroys your door.

A silent. 

One beat, two beats. There's zero sounds beyond the door and you let out a sigh of relief. Though your face is frowning. He really did leave just like that?

“Really, Kitten? This is an old trick.” 

You screamed at the voice that was whispering close to your ear. 

“WHAT THE FU-” hand is on your chest as it heaves up and down. Panting from the shock. Your eyes trace behind him. The windows. 

“How the fuck do you even fit through the window, Namjoon?” With wide eyes you look back to him and the wide opened windows. The curtains are flowing when the wind blows. “Didn't you learn any basic human courtesy? Like, how you should behave when you're in someone's house? I pity Alfred. His poor soul has been teaching your sorry ass since you're a kid and this is how you act?!” You scoffed.

“Hush, kitten.” He sighs. Taking off his beige trench coat and throwing it out on the floor. Exposing his broad shoulder and chest with the tight turtleneck he's wearing. His bulging biceps are screaming, a stitch away to rip apart his top. Really? How did he even fit the window?! 

“Hush? You're in my house. You hush!” Hands on your hips. Ready to turn your back to open the door, expecting to kick him out. 

In a matter of seconds he slams his palm firmly on the wooden surface, not allowing you to open it.

“Don't you have anywhere else to go? Someone to save?” You gritted your teeth as you face him.

“Doesn't matter.” He crouched his insanely gorgeous tall figure to you as your whole body is pressed on the door. With his stunning face leaning closer and closer to yours. His perfect hair and his big hands are caging you. If you don't have a will in you, your knees will buckle down first. Weak kitty. 

“What matters right at this moment is, you,” his lips jutted out towards you, “pretty, cunning, and sly cat. You have an apology to make, kitten.” His nose is nuzzling on your neck with every description of you coming out from his mouth. 

You can feel a pathetic whimper at the end of your throat and you’re fighting it with everything that’s left in you to keep it at bay. Letting out a sound would make him win so you're biting your tongue. The pupils are shaking and expanding as your sense is heightened when he slowly circled his arm on your waist. Pushing himself a lot closer than before. Almost chest to chest.

“Hum? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles at your stiffness. 

Like a flicker switched on, his words make you brazen up to fist his perfect hair, pulling him up from your neck to face you. Scratching your pointy nails on his scalp while your other hand is cupping his chin. The hissing sound, the satisfied grin and the way his eyes rolled back makes your thighs twitch. “Tsk, this batsy, batsy boy,” you lick on his cheek. 

“Nuh uh kitten, this is not your game anymore.” Namjoon snapped open his eyes and it's like two dark dark gazes swallowing your soul. He pulls you up and with an instinct you tighten your hold with your legs on his waist and arms on his neck with him slamming you back on the door.

“You left me, baby, how could you?” Instead of an accusing tone, the way Namjoon said them is so sultry. With his deep raspy voice. Getting braver now, his lips are on your neck. He bites and sucks ferociously. His big palm rubbing your side up and down, causing goosebumps at his electrifying touch, every damn time. 

“Nam- slow down, ahh!” Your arms and legs feel like jelly and they're fast to fall down from his body. But Namjoon will never let you fall. Bouncing you back, he grips hardly on your hips. He did not stop sucking and licking your neck. Definitely will leave some more marks, since the last ones are not faded yet. 

He is making sure you stay in position. By position, it’s your lower belly snuggling his crotch area, already feeling the hardening of the other big body part of his. His lips are attacking yours now. Swallowing the sinful sounds you make. Oh, he won.

“So pretty, you always sound so pretty for me Kitten,” he breathes in between kisses. 

You're catching your breath after he kept sucking your breath out of your lungs. Your thighs are trembling at the feeling of that hard thing that is poking your lower stomach. Someone’s clearly excited.

“Joon,” you mewled. 

“I almost beat Bane to death, baby. All because I was furious you left me in the sewer. You are a mean woman.” He spanked and squeezed your ass and the act jolted you up. 

“Thank god Jungkook came and took over. Bane would've been dead instead of going to the Gotham prison. All because of you.” Another spank and this time he kneaded your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say your ass is his stress relief ball. 

You giggle at the thought and the sound brings another glimmer to Namjoon's eyes. You sure are his death. An anti-heroine who rejoices in other people's agony.

“Aww you're a sweet little saint aren't you. Couldn't kill a soul,” you fake pouted at him. Though your entire face is clearly heated up from his ministrations.

Chuckling, Namjoon bites your earlobe. “Yes, baby. Though I shall never kill, I can make your pussy stings.” He whispered. The hair on your body all rises up at his words.

With your body being supported by the door, he sneaks one hand inside your thin, tight shirt. Namjoon almost drools like a dog in heat when he sees you wearing such a sinfully thin shirt and a boy short. Your attire accentuates your perfect figure. Your round ass, the tits. God, your perky tits.

“I’ve been dying to touch these pretty tits. I can see them jiggle when you get so worked up just now. Driving me nuts.” he mumbles. 

“Oh no! You’ve been staring at a lady, what a bad role model!” You fake gasp. You know he’s coming so there’s no point in wearing something that restricts him from seeing you clearly.

He sucks and bites even harder with a growl and your neck is blossoming with red like cherries. You winced at the slight pain but soon it washed away. Rubbing your thighs together for friction, hoping for him to not notice that you are reaching your patience limit. 

He did notice how your pretty legs tremble and the way you’ve been rubbing your thighs, yearning for friction for your pussy. He silently cheered for himself at that sight. This sly kitty is about to become putty in his hand, again, 

Namjoon feels that this is not enough, so he carries you to your table. His impatient hand started to push away all of the stuff on it, while his other hand is holding you up securely. 

Not allowing him to conquer you, you lick his neck. His legs stiffen when you sink your teeth on his skin. You know really well of his soft spot. 

“Ah, baby. I haven’t put you down yet,” Namjoon sighs. His tone is darker now. He’s trying hard to control it but his dick is begging for a sweet, tight and slick pressure. As if you can read his mind, you’re slowly palming his clothed dick. A pure torture to Namjoon.

“Put me down, now, or I will keep teasing you like this.” you command. Giving his ear a lick.

But Namjoon refused to lose. He grabs your waist with his big arms, sliding you on the table until your legs are dangling at the edge of it. His action excites you but where’s the fun in giving up first?

“Mr batman, do you wanna fuck me that bad?” You pout. Pushing his buttons is the best. Namjoon has this gentleman facade that he has to take care of. During the day, he is the most respected man in the city, at night, he is the hero. Usually the hero will give you an eye roll and ignore you. 

This time, there’s no eye roll from him, not even a sound. Only his labored breaths, his eyes are hazy with lust. “Yeah, I do,” he breathes.

The unexpected answer from him caught you. 

Pulling down your shorts, Namjoon is on his knee. Like the knight in shining armor, his eyes fixed on the prize, your pussy. It’s almost shameful to be in this position, with his breath fanning your hole and it would have been great if he played with it but he is just staring.

“Such a glorious cunt,” he whispered under his breath. His voice brings chills to both your body and your pussy. 

Your eyes never leave him. How can you, when all you can see is his luscious hair in between your legs. You want to tease again. He looks so focused and so cute.

“If you only gonna stare, might as well go home,” you cheekily said. One hand palming your cunt. Covering him off his best view. That kinda pushed him.

You know Namjoon is a buff guy, you just never realize how buff he actually is until he looms over your body. He propped up both of your legs over his shoulders. He inches closer until you swear you can feel his bulge. You like it when he’s like this.

“That’s not nice,” he tutted. He took your hand, the one that covered your privates and he brought it to his cheek. Leaving a soft kiss on your palm. “Now, will you be a dear, and use these fingers to touch yourself,” he commanded.

“No, why would I?” You tilted your head to your side while biting your lips.

“Or, you'd rather me to do it, but you’re just too shy to ask, hum?” Namjoon chuckled. He thinks he already got you soft. He gave another kiss on your palm before he put it down. Now his hand is slowly caressing your bare pussy. Luckily for him, you’re already wet. 

“Answer me,” he said as he ran his two fingers on your folds. A fluttering feeling but it already makes your body twitch. “Someone’s excited,” Namjoon said with his mouth close to your legs. Even if you wanted to show your dominance, your body seems to betray you. He notices the goosebumps on your delicate skin, he can help but to leave trails of kisses until he is a little too close to your pussy.

“Just touch me already!” You bark.

“As you wish,” he smirks.

He puts his middle finger inside your warm pussy. Namjoon is too ashamed to admit how your wet velvet walls feel like a home to him and that is just his finger. He moves his finger in and out very languidly. He stares at your moves in relief. As if this is what you need. And he wanted more. So, he picks up a pace and starts pumping in two fingers inside you. The room is filled with the squelching sound and the muffling moan from you. He thinks it’s such a shame when you suppress your voice. He wants to hear you scream for him.

You on the other hand are becoming a mess. His elongated fingers hit your spot so perfectly. It is embarrassing to succumb like this, especially on his hand. He really knows how to touch you. Although you wanna act all tough, your body says otherwise. From the way your pussy keeps clenching on his digits, shamelessly gushing out your wetness, to your writhing body, lost pleasure. This game is not over yet, you thought. You still have a chance to dominate him.

“Ah Namjoon, you’ve been practising?” You breathe. Actually he is the one who is taking your breath away with the thrust of his finger. It didn’t help when Namjoon made a come-hither movement in your pussy. You wish to cover your face. It only satisfied him to the moon to see you grimace in lust. The knitted brows, the gaping mouth, and your eyes. Your lustful eyes never lie.

“Why? Is this the first time a guy fingered you so well?” Namjoon retorted back. 

“Cocky.” You bite back. 

“Uh oh, someone’s mad.” Namjoon teases. The pushes from his finger did not stop with his knuckles deep inside of you and he topped it off by rubbing his big thumb on your clit. Your body trashes at the overwhelming feeling. He managed to shut you up with your witty words. He loves this feeling, when he can make you scream just by using his hand.

“Yes! Nggh,” you groan. The band snapped and unbeknownst to you, Namjoon was awestruck. 

The gush released from your pussy drenched his fingers and it dripped on the palm of his hand. Looking at you, hair sprawling on the table, thighs quivering and your laboured breath. Your face is glowing. Namjoon is dying to fuck you right here and now. 

Just before he can do anything, you beat him to it. 

Sitting up straight, your hands are busy unbuckling his belt. You know it's your chance when Namjoon straightens his body right after you cum. From the look from his eyes, deep and dark. Namjoon is not going to stop there. He wants it too but you are gonna give it to him on your own terms. 

“Not so fast, batman.” You whispered to his ear. The bodies are so close together, almost chest to chest. It drove both of you insane but you bask in torturing him. Your left hand is caressing his cheek. Feeling soft underneath your touch. He must’ve shaved before he came here, your heightened sense of smell caught a whiff of his cologne and you’re cheering from the inside. You noticed Namjoon makes himself handsome before meeting you. Always. 

Right hand is slowly touching his muscular body. From the firm pectoral muscles - which makes you salivate- to his sturdy abdomen. Your fast hand sneaks inside his tight turtleneck shirt. Feeling every ridges and the bumpy muscles. Your eyes are locked on his face. To search for any emotions or reactions from your touch. He usually is very stoic and very dominant. It's not fair sometimes, when he melts you into a puddle. So, you want to do that to him. Melts. You lightly teased and pinched his nipple. 

To your surprise, he groaned. Body tightened at the sudden pressure.

His face is blushed and you can see how he struggles to control his face. His forehead is scrunched and his eyes are shut. Feeling the reaction was too small for you. You keep on moving downwards. Guiding your hand to his happy trail before settling on his bulging pants. 

The one that’s been poking you from the beginning. Paying extra attention to it, you slightly rub your palm around it. You know his size but it always excites you.

You’re not the only one who is excited, it seems. Namjoon is putting both of his hands at your side, gripping the table as if it anchors him down before he drowns even further. Your touch is so electrifying. Your delicate hand trailing from his chest, his nipples, his whole body and a little scratch from your fingers are to die for. He is a weak man for you.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You chuckled. Your hand is busy playing with his hard cock, up and down. By unbuckling his belt, it provides you more space to play. You don’t know what got into him but you wanted to keep teasing him more. This is fun.

“Dick already this hard, must have been painful, huh?” You cheekily pouted. Already imagining his answer. 

“Touch it.”  He commanded and you grinned like a Cheshire cat. Unwilling to give him what he wants, just yet, you choose to play coy.

“Where’s the fun? If I give you what you want?” You asked. Shrugging your shoulders and acting like you don’t care. You let go of the hand that grips his dick and Namjoon almost whines at the loss of your touch. He was almost bursting when he saw you unravel with his fingers and with your playful touch on his hardened dick. To be deprived of you is like a punch to his gut.

It has been awhile since the two of you were in this position. Truth is, Namjoon missed you. And you know how to make a guy, even the strongest ones, weak on their knees. The thing with you, you are quite literally a cat. Nobody can hold you down. The moment he thinks you’ll stay longer at his manor, you’re gone. Strutting through the street, getting yourself in danger. 

Namjoon doesn’t have to worry about you, but he can’t ignore the nagging voice in his head. What if something happened to you? What if you get in trouble? What if he couldn’t be there on time? Love is a wild thing. 

If it’s up to his possessive instinct, he’d put you in a luxurious cage. Safe and sound. But who is he kidding? This is The Catwoman. The same woman that always shows up earlier than him at any crime scene. The same woman who knows the narrow streets, the nook and cranny of Gotham because you love to wander around. The one he first met years ago on a yacht that holds a handful of elite people related to Kim's business. 

You were very fast and agile, buglaring some of the passengers' jewelry and expensive belongings. Namjoon is just lucky enough to catch you red-handed. When he unmasked you, he was sure that was when he fell for you. Or maybe when he saw first-hand you were in hand-to-hand combat with the bad guy. Also, you’re a master at flirting.

What started as him catching you and cooperating with you, turns to sharing a bed with you. It has been awhile since you left his manor, sulking because he stopped you from stealing a huge diamond cut on an old crown from the museum. The shimmering stone has bewitched you for quite some time and Namjoon was there first. Protecting it. Mission unaccomplished. So you left his big ol house.

“You know what, I’m getting bored. If you’re gonna daydream, go home.” You fake a yawn. 

“Really? Let me check,” Namjoon eyebrows twitched up. Unamused. He gently pushed you back on the table. “Enough game, just wanna be inside you,” he adds. He took off your tee in one swift motion, and instantly placed his hand on your perky tits. Kneading the soft tissue. 

“Ahh that’s more like it,” you sigh.

Namjoon didn’t reply with words. He turns to one of your nipples and starts sucking on it like a starved man. He hums in joy when he gets to taste your skin like this. Waves of sensations are crashing on you as he paid attention to your other nipples. He licks and laps and sucks on the skin around your nipples. Every time his nose brushed with your sensitive nipples, your body jolted. 

“This is for your tease just now,” he mumbles as lightly bites on the hardened bud. Earning a short scream, from you.

“That really hurt!” You smacked on his bare body. You have no idea when he took his shirt off. 

“Don’t pout, baby. You like it when it hurts,” Namjoon cooed while aligning his stiff dick to your entrance. For someone who said it will hurt, he sure does take his sweet, sweet time to fuck you.

You, on the other hand, are very impatient. “C’mon darling,” you said with a sultry voice, inciting him to just ram his dick into you. Your dangling legs are now hugging him, your heels planted to his firm buttocks, pushing him straight into you. 

“Easy, love” Namjoon chuckled. You’re like a cat in heat and Namjoon secretly loves it. In one swift movement, he slotted deep inside your warm pussy. It’s been a really long time for him. Apparently to you too.

“Ahhh, see how perfectly your dick fits in my pussy, it’s like we’re meant to be,” you joke. Namjoon didn’t laugh, instead he picked up the pace. The longer he stays inside of your pulsating pussy, he will blow his load right now. Scratch that. Seeing how good he makes you feel right now, makes him wanna cum.

Your lean legs around his waist are somehow limiting his movement and that’s bothered him, so he hooks your legs on his arms. With one quick thrust all at once, you can see how focused Namjoon is. His eyes can’t get enough from looking at how his dick pistoning in and out of your pussy, fully coated with your juice. The sound of the squelching and the skins slapping mixed with your moans is what he lived for. Hero? The knight? Those names are out the window. He is no saint.

“Not so bored now, huh?” He asked.

There’s nothing you can say back when moan after moan escapes your lips.

Namjoon steals a glance or two at you and god, he loves it when he can make you become a mess. You threw your head back with the satisfied emotions written all over your face. Your arms are above your head as you grip the edge of the table. Your nails are gonna be fucked but who cares?Namjoon loves this view, your exposed body and your bouncy tits and your fucked face. It is as if this is something that you crave for too long, and he’s the one that delivers it to you. The table is shaking violently but neither of you care. His hand firmly grips on your thigh and you counter it back by clenching hard on his dick. That elicited a suppressed groan from him.

You like him so much. His bigger build towering over you like this, him taking full control when fucking you — not all the time, because that’s not fun, and you love controlling him too — he fucks so good when he’s desperate like this. You feel the band around your lower belly is about to snap and Namjoon can tell by how your back started to arch and the throaty moans that come from you. He sneaks his thumb to the bud on your pussy mound and starts to rub circles on it. The waves of simulations crash you down. 

“God, you’re killing me,” he groaned. Your pussy wall is tight like a vice, and it keeps sucking him in. It is almost slippery. “Such a greedy cunt,” he adds. Some of his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and you can see from the muscle on his neck and his clenched jaw that he is so determined to fill you to the brim. Looking at your orgasmic face is certainly not helping, so he hides his face on your neck.

“In me, cum in me,” you command. Your flexible legs are suddenly on his waist again, securing him closer as if he is not balls deep enough inside of you. “I’m on pills,” you whispered to his ears. He picked up the pace as he gripped on to the flesh of your ass. You felt him fumbling the rhythm with his grip on your ass, leaving marks as he thrusted inside for the last time. Ribbons of cum painting your pulsating walls. 

He let out a long pant and gently released his grasp on you. He raised his head to look at you and you can a cocky smirk across his face at your fucked out expression. His dick is still warm and snuggled inside you.

“Fine, you won this time,” you rolled your eyes at his smug face. You winced a little when he pulled out his coated dick and he grabbed a roll of tissues from the kitchen before he wiped you clean. Once you’re clean, he can’t stop himself from kissing you while putting on your shirt. Of course you kissed him back as your hand is busy rubbing the back of his head. A silent pat that you’re kinda missing him too. 

The sudden sound of police siren and gunshot stopped the two of you. Naturally, Namjoon carries you to the opened window. Glancing down he can see two to three police cars, blaring their sirens as blue and red coloured the road. You’re looking up and the bat sign is already flashed up in the sky. 

“Oh baby, it’s work time. Shall we?” Namjoon rubs your back, eyes bore on you as the moonlight makes your face glow so beautifully. He fell once again by the way your eyes stare at his signs in the sky and the smirks on your face. Namjoon can never be sure about the look of this face. It’s like you’re so proud of him but it also could be your mischievous look as if someone just said “playtime”. Whichever it is, Namjoon is smitten. 

“See you there, batsy,” you whispered before you backflipped from his hold. All this time you could’ve easily gotten out of his hold. Namjoon shakes his head at the sudden escape of yours. Sly kitten!

“Maybe we can have a second round there!” you shouted.

“Yeah, yeah” Namjoon replied, only to himself. He knows there’s nothing stopping you from what you want. His heart with a claw-shaped marks is beating alive.

Namjoon touched the pocket of his coat and was relieved that you didn’t notice the box inside of it. You have a very good instinct especially for jewelry. Before he’s done, he has to make sure the box that contains the very diamond from the crown — the one that you wanted to steal so much — is secure. 

He bought the diamond at the highest bid only to place it on top of the band of a ring. Your betrothal ring. 

Namjoon rushed to his bat mobile, all suited up. There's a particular woman waiting for him, you. You stolen jewels, secrets, and even his heart, but as the first light of dawn touched Gotham, all he could do was smile—because you always gave him a reason to chase.

[ottoslab]

You know: Re: “there’s an in-story reason there are no fat characters in xyz media,” I feel like there’s a lack of understanding about the root idea behind why there should be fat characters regardless of the “in universe” explanations.

Im going to keep this conversation in line with Into the Spiderverse/Hero media, because I’ll be honest: I don’t disagree with the idea that there’s never a reason for there to be less body type diversity in a cast. I think the reasons are fewer and far between than people claim, but I don’t think they’re not there. Maybe it’s important for worldbuilding, maybe there’s another reason. Just getting it out of the way so I can say that I’m not talking about these specific instances where fat characters wouldn’t work in the narrative for whatever reasons.

I’m talking about: Spider-Man cant be fat. He’s too busy running around and swinging on webs to be out of shape. There’s no way there could be a fat avenger, they’re way too active. Etc etc.

Ok. Cool. I don’t care.

When it comes to body diversity in media, my first thought is not usually the in-universe reasons for the body diversity, for fat characters being fat. My mind is always going to the intention behind the writing first and foremost.

The Spider-Man series, and a lot of superhero stories, are stories about empowerment. Spider-Man itself is a character built around the idea that “anyone can wear the mask.” The spiderverse movies are built around that idea.

Spider-Man, in universe, is a character who fights crime, who has the weight of the world on his shoulders, who does super cool stunt moves and is usually like 16 years old and fighting off super monsters.

But, like. That’s the in universe stuff. The subtext, the reasoning for the plot, the character evolution, is so much more than that, isn’t it? It’s a story about empowerment, about encouraging the viewer, you, whoever you are absorbing this media, to take great risks and to evolve. Spiderverse isn’t asking you to put on a mask and swing around and fight a woman with octopus tentacles. Spiderverse is using a very specific in-universe challenge to ask you how you’d operate with great power, and the price to use it responsibly. Etcetera etcetera. Generally speaking.

And anyone can be viewing that story. Even a fat person. Who wouldn’t “realistically” be able to be a spider-man. Fat people still face adversity, still identify with having goals and taking risks. Like anyone else. That’s the point of the “anyone can wear the mask” thing. Why couldn’t there be a fat Spider-Man, for audiences to relate to just as much as they would a skinnier Spider-Man, but with the added “hey, that’s like me,” factor for some people who don’t usually get that?

And then comes the other stuff. The fact that, while a lot of media may not have positive representation of fat characters, they still have fat characters. They still exist. And where are they?

Well, usually being the butt of the joke, probably.

We can’t have a fat spider-man, but we can have a Peter B. Parker, down on his luck, pitying himself for the decisions he won’t make, at a low-point in his life. And how do we portray this? Oh, yeah, we’ll have him be fat. And we won’t stop pointing it out. We won’t stop mentioning it in a way that would have a laugh-track playing after every mention if we could. Because being fat is bad, because being a fat spider-man means you’ve done something wrong. And once you’re doing better? You’ll be less fat, probably. Because it means you’re probably doing something with yourself.

I don’t mean to say that there’s absolutely no reason a person could gain weight when they’re at a low point in their life, or that losing weight can’t be a sign of someone’s progress in their life. But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the writing, I’m talking about the framing of this. Peter B. Parker is the only fat Spider-Man in Into The Spiderverse, (I know there are plus sized background characters in across the spiderverse, but theyre few and far between and do not take away from the treatment of Peter B in the first movie) and they’re going to make sure you remember that, and they’re going to hope you laugh at him for it. Peter B Parker isn’t a real person, but a real person, real people, had to write his character and how people treated him.

TLDR: If you’re making a story, I don’t give a shit if there’s “no reason” for a character to be fat in universe. Let them be fat anyways. There’s probably “no reason” for half of the things they are or aren’t, but we still give characters those traits anyways. And I guarantee, in the stories where there “shouldn’t be” fat characters, there will be anyways. They just will be there to be laughed at, to point at as a sign of “greed,” to be the antithesis of what the protagonist should be. Because from a writing standpoint, apparently, where anyone can wear the mask or whatever, being fat is still wrong.

[writingsofwesteros]

Another man's doe:

Sorry for spamminc these Ily

The sun had just dipped below the horizon as Jaime Lannister finally arrived back in King's Landing, his weary body sagging with the weight of exhaustion, both physical and emotional. The journey had been long and grueling, but the hardest part awaited him within the walls of the Red Keep. As he trudged through the familiar corridors, memories of his past haunted every step.

He reached Cersei's chambers, his heart heavy with a mix of longing and dread. When the door opened, Cersei was there, regal and cold as ever, her eyes narrowing as they fell upon him. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thicker than the air in the room.

"You're too late," Cersei said, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Do you have any idea what I've had to endure without you? While you were off playing the hero, I was here, holding our family together, facing threats you can’t even begin to imagine. I was here all alone!"

Jaime flinched at her words, but he did not respond, his mind too clouded by the agony of the past few months. She didn’t care that he had been tortured, mutilated, and nearly broken beyond repair. All that mattered to her was that he hadn’t been there, by her side, to feed her illusions of their unbreakable bond. To feed her Illusion of power.

"And now," Cersei continued, her voice laced with venom, "you come back to this? To find our father has taken the place you so easily abandoned? He was the one who protected our legacy, who cared for everything you threw away."

Jaime leaves The chamber, cold, bitter and alone. Before he could muster the strength to defend himself Even in his own mind, to explain what he had been through, his feet lead him to a familiar chamber. Chamber that used to Be his too. Opening The door without thinking. Taking the risk of his fathers presence there. His everlasting presence. But only Stevonna stood there, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and emotion. It sinks to his heart, she was no longer just his wife; she had become his father's lover so long ago, and yet, in this moment, none of that seemed to matter.

"Jaime," she breathed out, relief flooding her voice as she crossed the room in a few hurried steps. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t care about the filth and blood that clung to his clothes. She simply pulled him into her arms, holding him as if she were afraid he might disappear again. The strange bond they still shared there. They might have had their issues but she cared. Gods she did.

"Their" youngest, a small toddler with Tywin's eyes and her gentle features, toddled into the room after her, but Stevonna’s focus was entirely on Jaime. She held him tight, her fingers threading through his matted hair, and whispered his name again, "Jaime. By the gods"

It was all too much for Jaime. The walls he had built up, the stoic mask he had worn for so long, crumbled as he buried his face in her shoulder. He broke down in her arms, his body shaking with sobs that he had kept at bay for what felt like a lifetime. The pain, the regret, the loss—it all came pouring out as Stevonna held him, unbothered by the filth that stained her gown, her own tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

"shhh, shh" she soothes "let it out, let it all out" she encourages knowing he would not get the chance to cry often. The chance or the walls down enough to do so.

"I'm sorry Stev, I'm so sorry" he sobs. "I'm sorry of how I abandoned you and our son" he pours out. Stev's eyes widening as she tightens her hold. Looking down as her toddler comes to hug jaimes leg too. His half Brother. Not his son. Not by blood yet by law.The son they had was already almost a man grown. Old enough to remember The pain of his abandonment.

"let us not dwell now. Not until you are healed" she mutters. "Sylas was worried for you also"

And Even If it was not romantic. Nor healthy. In that moment Jaime realized that this was probably what being loved was supposed to feel like

THEY BREAK MY HEART

[personwithatophat]

Intresting concepts, I love where you're going with that idea. I needed some expansion on that ngl and you fully cooked there /pos (Also hi Tophat)

What thoughts do you have on the idea Austin can see everything/the fact he either has no filter or a broken filter? Why would he be given this ability by Showfall besides the idea of an entertainment asset?

Hello! o/ thank you and good followup because austin is my crutch so i appreciate making me take it head on. (feel free to challenge my theories it helps me build them! :] ) As for austins filter being broken, I think the theory is good but incomplete. Austin does have a filter and has involvement, but it clearly works differently. in fact most of the 'filter items' have their own rules that they go by, its not a uniform model.

and a bit of this has to do with just how the show works sneegs hat isn't wired into his skull because he takes it off a couple times during the show or moves it around charlie has some kind of base program where he can run multiple items at once since during episode 2 he was wearing the glasses and the headphones and there are theories that details like this such as placement, hardware, etc have an effect on the items' limitations. for example, sneeg doesn't have surgically implanted hardware so he can't run two items like Charlie can and when they try, it shorts out and we get the ep 2 hat scene. or that other cast members couldn't be 'The Hero' since ranboos mask is necessary and capable of more complex sequences. that being said I've seen people speculate that Austins item is his jacket, which is entirely possible but it makes it confusing when he actually takes it off in the dressing room. so I'm going to pivot to the theory that he doesn't have a formal item. "so he doesn't have a filter?" not what I said. During the beginning of ep 2 before sneeg gets soft rebooted he doesn't actually have a filter item either and is still very much in character, he doesn't even recognize ranboo, we have hard proof that this is possible. and we know Austin is filtered/playing a character just by how he's acting in general. Austin as a showfall media victim has no reason to lie about having a wife and several children. why wouldn't he have a formal item? maybe because he was originally written to get double-tapped in Nikki's place in scene 1. Its very up for interpretation still but I believe a lot of this stems from the way that Austin is compared. Specifically how he gets compared to ranboo and sneeg when Ethan dies. i would like to counterpoint this with the way that Austins character is built for the episode. desperate, afraid, ......straight. but at the same time, he stalls to catwalk in the closet, mouthes off to puzzler questioning him having children, and is also very gay. so I think there might be some difference in writing. So yes, Austin is the only one who has a normal and more aware response to Ethan's death. Austin is also the only one there that isn't 3 layers deep in meta.

during this moment Austin is the only one freaking out but consider the company. ranboo is an NPC at this point. he got factory reset and basically has a cap over free thought, right now the only thing in his brain is the objective to go through the show. Austin is still in his role of character trying to escape this actual saw trap he's stuck in, his panic is as warranted in character as it is out so he panics and when the others don't it freaks him out more. sneeg on the opposite side of the spectrum is knee-deep in lethargy. sneeg is actually the one seeing everything how it is and can't respond to any of it so he doesn't care about anything anymore. after his soft reboot sneeg can still see but he's confined to the roll, I want to make a separate sneeg post because he's actually the one I think people view Austin as. so yeah I think that Austin has something going on but I think it's a step to the left of the current theories. sneeg is where the real awareness is feel free to ask me for any clarification on this since I jumped around a lot or if you have other questions/theories because this is epic :D -Tophat

[the-weirdos-mind]

*raises from the grave* Tv tropes for Estella please

Gratuitous Spanish: Estella will often drop Spanish when she talks at times. Though she doesn’t use Spanish as much as Rook uses French, she will drop the occasional ‘si’ or ‘hola’ or other basic Spanish words and phrases.

Cast From Sanity: It’s no secret that Estella is stressed out a lot. She’s dealing with a lot of trouble from overblots and a headmage that pushes his work onto her. During Book 3 is when her moral starts to decline a bit. When she realizes how to beat Azul, she does so. She even took it a bit far as she got fed up with being pushed around. Even after beating Azul in his overblot form, she felt pity and satisfied that she had won. Things took a turn for the worse as she continues to use underhand methods until sometime after Book 7. After getting frustrated that Crowley hadn’t found a way home for her, she broke mentally. She overblots and the boys have a difficult time fighting her as her insanity seems to fuel the phantom.

I’m Not Here To Make Friends: Before befriending the TWST cast, she was going to stick to herself and bide her time. Boy did that backfire on her when she became friends with Ace, then Deuce, then Grim, and everyone else

Anti-Hero: Even though Estella puts on the mask of a quiet and nice girl, there is a darkness beneath that mask. She won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty if it means that she’ll help her friends. She faced Leona in his overblot alone when the others were down by the paws of his Phantom. She didn’t hesitate to cut the paws so her friends could be released.

Like Brother and Sister: Estella hadn’t expected to get as close as she is to Castor. When she first saw him at Black Pearl College, she was nice to him, remembering her younger cousins back home. Castor became enamored by her and wanted to stick by her side to ‘protect her from sea monsters.’ The two built a bond like siblings and they often visit each other whenever they can. Whenever Castor sees her, he drops whatever he’s and runs full speed at her and hugs her. He even shows her off as his big sister. Estella looks after him like a caring big sister and makes sure that he’s okay. They talk on the phone every day.

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @fair-night-starry-tears @queen-of-twisted @achy-boo @abyssthing198 @fiendishfan

[ali6cee]

Bitter like coffee (pt.1)

Katsuki sighed as the door to his apartment slammed behind him. Everything was silent and dark, almost cold despite the fast approaching summer. Not even his cat came to greet him, the bastard.

It had been a month since he had started on this case, and he was nowhere near closing it. 

He opened the visor of his helmet and walked further into the house, pressing a button on the side of it to shut off the system built inside, before taking it off. He put it down on the kitchen table, where he knew it would stay until the next day, and exchanged it for the case file. It was a flimsy thing, no more than a couple of pages, but it was pretty much everything they had about the vigilantes. 

Against his better interest, Katsuki turned on the living room light and let himself fall back on his couch. Even on the lowest setting the warm artificial hue of the lightbulb burned his tired eyes. It was 4 am. He was exhausted. He just wanted to go to his room, throw himself in the bedsheets and sleep away that awful, absolutely inconclusive patrol he had just got home from. 

But he couldn’t.

The adrenaline of the few fights he had that night was still pumping in his veins, and frustration was still making his skin crawl from his chest up to his throat, tightening it up.

He was a slippery one, Blood Riot. Which was ironic, considering the motherfucker was big. Like, ‘what-the-fuck-did-they-feed-you’ kinda big. Like 7 foot tall kind of big. So it was pretty impressive how he still managed to fly under the radar long enough to get through at least three hits before they even got a lead on him. That is without considering that his accomplice, Arakno, was even worse if possible. And despite being just a head shorter than Blood Riot, he lived up to his name right ‘till the very end: was he there one second? Well, bitch, don’t look away or he too will vanish into thin air. 

He threw the folder on the coffee table in front of him, not caring if a few papers flew out. It’s not like they had any useful information on them anyway. Katsuki leaned back against the couch and run his hands over his face as if to rub away the exhaustion. He pressed his palms over his eyes, hard enough he started seeing weird shapes under his eyelids and let out yet another sigh. 

He didn’t even really want to catch them, for fucks sake. He was an underground hero who trained under Shota Aizawa, and as such followed the Eraserhead’s methods. 

“The underground lives in the gray.”

That was the first thing Aizawa said after he had gathered those in the class who said they wanted to go underground. The underground lives in the gray. 

So while daylight and twilight heroes, being under society’s microscope, were forced to abide to the rules that the HPCS enforces on to them, the underground heroes had a bit more wiggle room to say “fuck it,” and act however they saw fit.

Which led to Aizawa’s second rule: vigilantes were informants, not villains, and should be treated as such, until proven otherwise. 

The parts of the city where undergrounds tended to patrol weren’t exactly full of hero loving people, reason why if they were to talk, they were always way more likely to talk with vigilantes than they were with him or any other pros wondering around the area.

So no, Katsuki did not want to arrest them. What he did want, was to form some kind of work relationship and make sure they don’t go robbing heroes again, no matter how nice it was to see Shoto laugh for the first time since he had to go back to live with his father six months ago. Or how funny the picture of Endeavor in a bathrobe and face mask that somehow started appearing everywhere around town was. And it was really fucking funny.

Despite his best efforts it didn’t take long for Katsuki to fall asleep, only waking up hours later, mouth still pasty with sleep, eyelids heavy and his phone’s alarm blaring in his ears. 

He slowly sat up, glaring towards the offensive device. He knew he couldn’t chuck it at the wall. He did. But it was barely 7 am and he had only slept for like two hours and he was tired.

He groaned as his back popped from his neck right down to his tail bone. He had to stop sleeping on the couch, or he’d fuck up his joints even more than he already did with his quirk. 

God, he really was turning into Aizawa.

With one last lamenting groan he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the way he felt as if the ground wobbled underneath him for a second. He just had to reach the kitchen and get his coffee. Then everything would have been better. 

He stumbled into the kitchen, knocking into the counter but not even caring enough to actually curse at the pain, before finally getting to the pantry where he kept his coffee. 

And shit, does the universe have a sense of humor. 

Cause as soon as Katsuki’s eyes landed on the prize his cat, the orange fucker who had not shown face until that very moment, decided that the pantry was the perfect place for him to jump on to and knocked every ounce of coffee Katsuki owned right on the ground.

Katsuki looked at it for a bit, feeling a bit of his soul die with each second that passed, until Jeremiah jumped down onto the counter and started rubbing himself against him, his tail tickling his nose in greeting and his paws leaving prints into the powder.

Katsuki took a really deep breath and picked the cat up. He kept him at arms length; narrowing his eyes in the best glare he could manage. 

“I fucking hate you,” He scoffed when the fucker had the audacity to start happily purring in his arms.

He let the cat fall to the ground with a sigh as he leaned against the dirty counter.

He took a second to bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and try to decided if he had the energy to actually clean up. After a second quick peak at the mess the decision was made, and Katsuki hurried towards his bathroom to take the world’s quickest shower. 

He grimaced at the feeling of the filthy costume peeling off of his skin and jumped under the still cold water, hoping it would wake him up at least a bit.

In a metter of minutes he was walking out of the bathroom, hair still damp, and into his room to change into some normal clothes and run to that one coffee shop at the end of his street that he had been meaning to try.

The walk didn’t take too long, with most people not yet being out at seven thirty in the morning, and Katsuki got there faster than he usually would have.

As soon as the cute little coffee shop came into view Katsuki stopped for a moment. He scrunched his nose up at sight of the bright pink sign over the door, proudly reading “The Daily Drip”, and assessed a critical look at the too many flowers perched on the windowsills outside.

Well, he thought in the end, it’s not like he had much of a choice. He exhaled from his nose, already taking out his wallet and fishing out the money as he moved towards the entrance.

The place was small and cozy on the inside. Any other day Katsuki would have even dared calling it cute, but at the moment he was a little too busy trying not to fall asleep to notice the details.

No one seemed to be behind the counter yet, so Katsuki busied himself with looking up at the menù behind it.

He was just looking for the option that would offer the most caffein, when someone finally came out form the door he assumed lead to the back of the shop, bending to fit through it.

“Good morning! What can I get you?” The barista smiled brightly as soon as he noticed him.

Katsuki’s eyes widened as he took in the man’s hulking figure and bright red hair, the smile that was all sharp teeth and the muscles his shirt could barely contain. 

And for the second time that day he cursed the universe’s fucked up sense of humor. 

Cause whether the man was wearing a mask or not, Katsuki had spent way too many hours looking at the singular picture they managed to snug for the folder to not recognize that the man standing right in front of him, asking for his order was none other than Blood Riot himself.

[ariasfandom]

Title: Hawks Happy Life Pairing: Hawks & OCs Rating: Gen Word Count: 2078 Warnings: Kidfic, vague mentions of past trauma Summary: Hawks reflects on just how wonderful his life has been since the war, and his newfound freedom, eternally grateful that his son's will never have to worry about. A/N: Bird man and Dad Hawks really makes me so happy, so I combined the two Created for @anyfandomfluffbingo Porch Swing | @anyfandomaubingo Domestic AU

Hawks’ enjoyed spending as much of his time flying. Just feeling the wind in his hair and flowing through his wings. Though as a dad before, he couldn’t let anyone know about his eldest son even existed, and later when he could, he already had more than one, making it difficult to fly with them. 

So that’s why he was dangling over the city with his kids on a modified lawn swing dangling off his balcony, not caring who knew.

His eldest, Phoenix was 4, old enough to be on his own on the swing without being held onto, while Kurayami just turned 2. They had gotten a good idea of his strength (which was that of a normal toddler) so he was sitting in Hawks lap, occasionally gently kissing his forehead and occasionally preening his newly growing in pin feathers..

Hawks was gently swaying the bench with his feathers as Phoenix looked over the edge over all the passing cars and tiny people. “Careful, Nix,” he laughed. 

“I am, daddy!” he chirped. He was holding onto the frame with both his hands and feet talons and was using his wings to keep balance. Hawks froze before he softly smiled. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that. He was so used to his own son calling him ‘Hawks’, it still felt weird to him, but loved it nonetheless. He still had so much to unlearn.

Kurayami was babbling incoherently with the occasional understandable word or two at the start of sitting there, and he calmed down to silence and started to be lulled by the gentle swing and Hawks' cooing.

He stopped swinging the bench for Nix’s safety, but then Kurayami started to whine from the lack of swaying to help him fall asleep so he picked it back up carefully.

“You okay, buddy?” Hawks said to Nix.

“Uh-huh!” he eagerly nodded. 

Secretly holding onto Phoenix with a few extra feathers wouldn't hurt, right? Better than plummeting over 100 stories to the ground. He knew that if his mate or Miriko were there, they’d be making jokes about him being a mother hen.

Hawks sighed as he watched Phoenix proudly look down at every movement and sound. His wings puffed up with every breeze. Small things he cherished when he was taken by the HPSC. His children will never know just how special a privilege flying was to him, and he's going to devote his life to protecting that. Or even just not having to pretend to have human feet.

He was also grateful how his bird dad instincts have yet to apply to flight, because having your bird instincts give you the urge to lay on top of your kid to keep them warm was a lot different than having an urge to throw them off a building.

He adored his kids and life, and all the free time he had to be a father. That’s all he wanted in his life. Though the ‘freetime’ was never really free time, probably more work than hero work. He wouldn’t go as far to say as being undercover with the League, but it didn’t matter. This was all he wanted in life. His wings stopped being metaphorically clipped, no more handlers, no more masking, and not only did he need to stop living in fear for his child and mate, but he got to have more kids and tell the world about his family he proudly built.

No more watching what he ate, no more faking for the world, no more mutilating his body or masking his behavior for 

He was then pulled from his thoughts by his phone alarm buzzing, signaling it was time for lunch. 

“Alright, buddy,” Hawks chimed as he gently ran his hands over his son's wings. “Time for lunch.”

“What are we having?”

“Tell you, what,” he smirked as he used extra feathers to bunker down Kurayami in a comfy swaddle.  “Think you can fly the gap?” There was a grate under it and in front so if he fell he wouldn’t plummet. “Because I feel like you could. If you can make it, I’ll make you whatever you want.”

“Really?” Phoenix’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You really think I can?”

“Yeah!” Hawks’ voice cracked which had never happened to him before. He wasn’t used to not lying, but he wasn’t sure if he was or not as it had just been second nature to him. “I’ll hold it still, and I can always catch you if you do fall.” Phoenix crawled up and perched himself at the back on the bench. “Remember, you’re flying, not jumping, so use your wings. Just relax and let your wings do what they’re meant to.”

Phoenix climbed to the back of the swing and wiggled his tail as he prepared to fly the gap. He let his wings roughly float him, flying in place for a moment before dropping to the ground, although he didn’t seem hurt or even phased by the fall.

“You took flight! You did it!” Hawks cheered as he gracefully and carefully moved to the balcony. “Little hard on the landing, but you did it!”

“I did!” 

Hawks floated Kurayami back to his arms.

“Okay, no, not you, little birdie,” Hawks laughed when Kurayami fluttered his wings to try and fly like his brother and dad. “Your wings aren’t developed yet and too small for your chunky little baby body.”

Kurayami whined in incoherent baby babble, bird noise noises, with an understandable word or two inbetween. “Yeah,” he cooed. “Alright, so what do you want to eat?” he turned to his eldest.

“Chicken nuggets!”

“Chicken nuggets?” he laughed. That’s what he was planning on making regardless, like every other day. 

“Chicken nuggets,” he pouted. “With chocolate syrup and chips!” Well at least he’s spicing it up… in a very disgusting way. 

“Well I did say anything,” he mumbled as they both made their way to the door and Hawks turned to quietly say, “Alright, so Mama and Hiroto are sleeping, so we have to be quiet, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered as he flapped his wings to float up to sit on the chair, flying even better than he was before..

Hawks softly smiled with pride as he put Kurayami in his high chair and strapped him down before he went to the kitchen to commit war crimes against fried chicken, unimaginably happy for the way his life has turned out.

[sacrificecage]

Commentary under cut:

Animal friends retain extra fur and animal features. Standard kemonomimi! Special bonus goes to Chuchu, who has tentacle hair.

Fluff's hair *is* yarn! Patchlanders have yarn strands for hair and felt for skin and stuffing for blood, being massive plush dolls. Fluff's hair matches locs much closer than other Patchlanders, however.

I haven't finished Morpho's outfit. They might end up in East Asian garb, once I finalise it all, and I was thinking about samurai armour today.

Taranza *did* gave six arms! Not anymore.

Everyone has some fantastic hair stylists! And I love me some fancy hair~

Gooey wears outside-friendly clothes, being raised by a forest ranger in a... Forest. It makes it much more comfortable for exploring, and he never grew out of it!

Marx was born without arms, but has used magic all his life to replace them. He has clockwork prosthetics now!

Taranza's new arms are magically manifested, like Magolor and Marx's.

Dedede is not the only fat character. Nuff said. If you want a body type I don't draw enough, take muscular characters!

Galacta is tall for a Starran, at... 5'6.

Dedede's beard is made of blue feathers growing in. He is very proud of it.

Meta's mask covers his whole face (insecure), but Dark Meta/Reflecta couldn't care less. His face being revealed means more to recognise him as a hero!

Kirby's hair is his blood vessels allowing his magic to freely respire (Starran trait). His blood is pink, because magic (Also Starran trait).

Meta Knight is 5'0 tall.

Nuff said..? Morpho, Meta, Galacta, Fluff, Flamberge, Sectonia, etc, etc.

I mean.. The rest of Susie's family. Plus, like half the Dark Matters are White white, and Adeleine, and the fairies, off the top of my head.

Mirror Worlders are their own guys. They do what they want! They're kinda pissed at their origins! I give them their own names! They're their own people!!!

Eh.. Sorta? Susie doesn't have robot prosthetics, but she wears braces to support her unnaturally tall body that she built into functioning mecha.

Meta Knight needs heels to curve his deeply seated height trauma.

It's faster to count who doesn't have elf ears. Elfilin/s (Animal ears), Adeleine (Round), Waddle Dees (Round), most of the animal friends (Animal ears), Dark Matter (Frills, à la axolotl), Marx (Goat ears).

All Starrans have the cutest babyfaces of all time. It's a species thing.

Waddle Dee face mask is a cultural thing about revealing the face only when eating and allowing oneself to be vulnerable, from their history as alien prey.

Dedede wears Japanese clothing, because Dream Land is Space Japan.

Their outfits are greatly different because you cannot tell me they'd all have the same sense of style for Nunnery. Flamberge doesn't care and wears pants under her skirt. Francisca goes fullskirt because she's cold, and her legs are weird post-death, and Zan just took the standard uniform.

Sectonia can and will show off how she's able to fight in a massive fucking ballgown. She can float, she's a total egoist, why not? Also I took inspo from the French Revolution for her. So.

i was inspired

[emile-hides]

H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice 

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

[nobodyfamousposts]

What do you think poor Chloe (One not aware of their wish and the previous world) would be like if they were Scarlet Lady instead of a rich Chloe?

Part of the biggest detriment to Chloe is Chloe herself. Her attitude, her expectations, and her insistence on trying to make things "right" from her perspective by either regaining her lost status and fortune in the new timeline or getting both Miraculous to undo the Wish and return to the previous timeline where she was already the winner. Rich Chloe's past memories and the belief she's built regarding how the world works based on those experiences she's had there give her false expectations and a lack of either empathy or realistic perceptions. Her view of "right" or "wrong" is based entirely on how she thinks things should be and how happy she is in the moment with how things are. She lacks understanding that even if events didn't start to lead to her fall from grace, a world can't function like that forever. (Even if she DID stick around in Miracle Queen without making the Wish, other heroes from outside of Paris would have stepped in and she would have eventually been deposed and with great effect. It's why making the Wish was probably the best outcome for everyone involved.

Poor Chloe who had no memory of the previous timeline or her previous status would have had more of a shot of success because she would NOT have had those memories and expectations for the world to cater to her to hold her back and stunt her growth. Furthermore, she would also have full knowledge and memory of the current state of the world and her position in it, so she would not be as lost or caught by surprise by the changes like Rich Chloe (who had yet to integrate those memories fully given just how much her Wish had changed).

In addition, Poor Chloe likely would have made a more positive impression on Fu initially than her Rich counterpart. Imagine hypothetically that since she at least WAS fully aware of her precarious position and her need to be nicer to people, she would have been inclined to practice it on the way to school. So when she encountered Fu crossing the street, she would have pulled him out of the way and given him a comment about being careful that by all counts could arguably have come off as being less snide and more "lecturing out of concern for your safety".

This would be a Chloe who would be at least somewhat more receptive to Tikki and her teachings since she would know she'd need to change and improve. She would also likely benefit from it more than Marinette in canon since Chloe has more issues and could use the guidance more. Odds are that she would still try to use her hero status to benefit herself at first, but without those downright unrealistic expectations from Rich Chloe's life, her ideas would be more reasonable and some of it may actually work. She wouldn't think to ransom use of her Miraculous Cure since her less extravagant lifestyle means she would be more empathetic and practical in realizing the effects of the damage if allowed to remain, especially since her father and the bakery could be in the line of fire. She could use the role of a hero to reinvent herself using a mask and see the effect it could cause. That people like her better as the Ladybug Hero not just because she's saving the city but because of how she acts and the personality she shows.

She could get to be seen as a hero. She could still use her status in ways to help improve her life or make up for the issues she's caused. She could use her hero side to claim her father's bakery as being the "Ladybug Hero's favorite bakery" and help him gain some improved reputation to counter the negative "bakery with the horrible daughter" reputation she'd previously created for him. It wouldn't make it an overnight sensation the way Rich Chloe figured, and since she wouldn't be acting out of spite or unreasonable expectations, she'd be logical enough to maintain some distance to avoid people suspecting her identity or thinking the bakery is connected to her other than a place she likes to get a snack at. She could re-befriend Adrien in his guise as the Black Cat hero. And imagine the weirdness of the friendships she could develop on her hero side as she gets to know people under a new name and identity, and without her bad history as Chloe getting in the way. She'd get to interact with Marinette and the classmates and find that they're actually really nice people who would have been nice to her if she hadn't bullied them. She could interact with Adrien and get to know him outside of the pity and reluctance he gives her as Chloe.

Basically, Rich Chloe would be a story of Breaking the Haughty and how Chloe loses everything and remains miserable because she refuses to let go of what she once had and just expects things to work out as she wants because they always had before.

Poor Chloe would be a story of growing up, where she's starting off in a bad spot and slowly making things better as she starts to develop and learns to look past herself. Assuming, of course, that she takes that chance...

[thesolferino]

Power(less)

⤷ smp!dream x gn!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, soulmate au

⤷ word count: 3.7k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: you pay a visit to the man you hate most when he exiles your brother/best friend, tommy

If there’s one thing you were sure of in this pathetic, despicable life of yours, it was that you hated Dream.

Honestly, how couldn’t you? He ruined everything you stood for, stomped over all of your plans for a hopeful future before you even started, never let you and your brothers build your life the way you wanted, because he had always been, and always will be, a selfish, narcissistic bastard. No matter how much you tried to negotiate, how many times you cried behind those walls because you knew you’d never be left alone, how many times you begged and pleaded Wilbur to let it go, let it all go, let Dream win because he’ll win every single time, no matter how many times the three of you try to stop him, he never gave up on making your life a living hell.

Despite the fact that you’d spent countless nights up, tossing and turning in your bed, wondering if life like this was really worth it if you’ll forever live in fear, if you can’t leave your window open at night without fear crawling up your spine that maybe, just maybe, he’d throw a bomb inside and kill you in your sleep - despite the fact that you always wondered if maybe you should flee, and never look back - you were one of L’Manburg’s proudest and strongest soldiers, at least for the time when the country was exactly what you built it to be. 

You waved your country’s flag and sung the anthem with equal pride, and you always stood right by Wilbur and Tommy’s side, chin high in the air, stance unwavering in the presence of Dream and those who stood by his side, always ready to show him what L’Manburg citizens were really made of. You shot best with your special crossbow - Wilbur had always complimented you on your eagle’s eye, and while you were built for a battle like the one Dream and Tommy fought for the prize of L’Manburg’s independence, Tommy was far too loud, confident, and forever blinded by his own vanity to have you fight it instead. 

Of course you’d let Tommy have it, despite being aware that he’s far too cocky, beyond his abilities, and that you’d handle it much more swiftly, because he felt the obligation to; because he wouldn’t give in and let you do it. Two sides of you chewed you away to insanity, because Tommy was your favorite - both you, and Wilbur’s - and while you wanted to let him have it, wanted to let him have the title of #1 soldier and have it his way, you also didn’t want him to get beaten by Dream, because you were sure it was going to happen. As much as you despised the man and everything he stood for, you had to admit that he was one hell of a warrior, and quite good with a crossbow.

That’s why, when Tommy got impaled by the arrow, you were the first to run up to him amidst all of Dream Team’s cheers, nursing supplies already out, (Dream had asked if you were so insecure in Tommy’s skills that you brought those along in preparation or if you were so confident that you had brought them to nurse him, instead; Wilbur had to physically hold you back from pouncing on him with the sword strapped to your back) slowly plunging the arrow out of his stomach and assuring him he’d be fine, that his well being meant more than a thousand L’Manburgs did. Dream missed none of your soothing murmurs and the worrying glances you shot to a boy no less than your brother, whether by blood or not, and he chose to turn his back, celebrating another victory. 

He couldn’t look away, though. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze always flew to the two of you.

What did it feel like - to be cared for? He’d have to ask Tommy, or Wilbur - what does it feel like, to have a chunk of your heart? What does it feel like to have you stare at him with flames in your eyes, but flames lit by adoration, and not by resentment? What does it feel like, to have you on his side?

Truth be told - he tried. He tried, he really did. When you first walked into his land, a traveller, somebody from beyond his sight, a fresh pair of eyes with a fresh perspective, he tried to befriend you, because even if he didn’t want to, it seemed like everything in this world brought the two of you together. He always ended up close to you, next to you, observing how you laughed, how your eyes crinkled, how your brows furrowed, how you tapped your fingers when you were bored and swung your legs back and forth when you sat on a wall too high for you. 

One thing you didn’t seem to care for, however, was Dream’s best attribute, and that was power. You didn’t care that he held all land on the palm of his hand, you didn’t care that he appointed and laid off whoever and whenever he pleased, you didn’t care that all looked up to him - you didn’t care that he was most powerful. 

He wasn’t the only one with the power, though. Power comes in different shapes and sizes, and a bold man is a powerful man. A man who stands out holds power, and the two who always stuck out like a sore thumb were Wilbur and Tommy. Because physical strength or resources aren’t always what make a man powerful - an entertainer is a powerful man, an intelligent man is a powerful man, a witty man is a powerful man, but above all, a courageous man is a powerful man. And Wilbur and Tommy were all of the above.

He envied Tommy, because Tommy knew how to get the attention on himself without the use of power. He envied Wilbur, because he had somebody to fight, he had something to stand for, he had a purpose, something in which he could put equal part bravery and intelligence in, both of which he had plenty. He envied the two, because they could be heroes, because he was there to witness their story getting built, while Dream was there from the beginning, and the only witness he had was himself. 

You grew close to the two of them before he even had the chance to try - his chance got wasted before he could even try, because the more Wilbur whispered into your ear and crafted plans, and the more Tommy encouraged you to go with the two of them, the less he saw of you and your shiny smiles. At first, it bothered him to no end, because he saw so much potential in you, both as a friend and as a warrior, and Wilbur just kept on stealing you away from him, over and over again. But then, when he saw you helping build those giant walls, and heard Tommy proudly announce that: “We’ve got Tubbo, Eret and Y/N on our side, too!” shiny smiles became dull, menacing even, to the point he didn’t want to look at them anymore.

And when the war had started and you proudly defended Tommy, no matter what, with an insane glint in your eye that he only recognised from reflections, he realised that the chance had fully, entirely slipped out of his fingers, and you’re nothing more than an enemy anymore. The opportunity to get you on his side was long gone, if it ever existed in the first place.

You were with them through everything, thick and thin - you were there when Tommy turned over the discs, cheering on Wilbur during the election, even retaliating against Schlatt once he revoked the citizenship of your two best friends, nothing short of brothers, and leaving with them, spitting on his shoes before running amongst a sea of arrows that were being thrown your way, escaping out of the country you built of your own blood, sweat and tears like a criminal, like a foreigner, like an outsider and not the very founder of the land they stood on.

You were always by their side, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you always agreed - you had gotten into way too many passive aggressive fights with Technoblade, told Tommy and Wilbur far too many times that he was nothing but trouble, told them that there is no more dangerous man than a man with power, and you thought they’d learned that lesson with Dream, long, long ago. But nonetheless, you stayed through it all - you stayed through the makings of Pogtopia, Henry’s unfortunate death, and the festival, at which you didn’t fail to shout “I TOLD YOU SO”s at Wilbur and Tommy despite being in a near-death situation. Technoblade suffered a kick in the groin, because you just couldn’t help yourself, which led you into a sword fight that was way more than you bargained for, and was ultimately stopped by Tommy who forgave Techno just to stop the two of you fighting, not looking forward to having your head cut off in front of him. 

You were there to see Wilbur spiral, breaking apart in the prison of his own mind, you were there to see the glint of heroism in his eye get bent into one of a villain, you saw him become the man he had once swore to you he’d never become. And perhaps, when you fought for L’Manburg again, deep down, you knew what would happen; but you still fought tooth and nail, desperate to get back what you once had. You fought next to Technoblade, even though both of you knew you hadn’t forgiven him, and you never will - you fought next to Wilbur, even though you knew he’s not the same Wilbur you once knew, even though you knew L’Manburg would never truly be L’Manburg again, because its founders aren’t the same as they once were, when their heart was full of foolish hope and love. 

You were there to see Wilbur mouth an apology to you, and even though you didn’t know what he would do, you knew that the apology wasn’t an apology, but a goodbye; at least a late goodbye to the Wilbur you once knew. You were there to see the betrayal in Tommy’s eyes when Technoblade turned against you, summoning monsters with his own hands, forcing the rest of you to kill them while he watched. You were close, so close, too close to putting an arrow through his heart, ready to get rid of him, tired of the tears and the blood you shed over getting back what was always rightfully yours; but you didn’t, because Tommy’s hand laid on top of yours, telling you not to do it. So you didn’t, and instead you aimed for the porcelain mask that haunted you in your dreams, the cause of all destruction. Unfortunately, you missed, with his foot jumping back right before the arrow was supposed to plunge straight through his chest, and you fell to the floor, defeated.

You were there when L’Manburg’s government formed again - you were there when Tommy burnt down George’s house on accident, and, unfortunately for you, you were there when your younger brother got exiled. You were there, watching him get escorted. You watched him leave. You watched that monster of a man escort him out, kick him out, away from you, from everyone he loved. You watched him, and gripped your crossbow with tears in your eyes, swearing to yourself that you’d never let him get away with this. 

That’s why you stomped into the Community House the next day, knife strapped to the inside of your thigh, sword fastened on your back, crossbow slinged over your shoulder, fire in your eyes, demanding to see him. And sure enough, as soon as you spoke his name, he was in front of you, cracked mask covering his face, dirty blonde hair combed, as if nothing had happened in the first place, as if he hadn’t made life a living hell for all of you.

“Hel-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cut him off, speaking through gritted teeth as you took a step towards him, heavy boots creating even heavier footsteps on the wooden floor. The mask remained expressionless as always, and his body language gave away nothing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dream? Is this funny to you? Are we some kind of sick joke to you? Is that what this is? Are you having fun, Dream?” you continued, almost spitting at him. “Take off that mask, talk to me like a fucking man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, hand shooting to grip the porcelain at the mention of his mask, although he simply adjusted it slightly, still leaving it on.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. How could you kick him out?! He’s a fucking child, Dream! A child!” you yelled, hand clenching into a fist.

“Is this about Tommy? I’m sorry, Y/N, but it was not my decision. The people, and Tubbo, decided that he should be exiled- I just did my job.” he claimed, still stiff, expressionless, and you fired back almost before he even finished the sentence, rage lighting your whole body ablaze.

“Right, because you only have power over other people when it fucking fits you! You only have power when you want to! You’re only the most powerful person in this whole fucking land when you want to terrorise other people! What are you, Technoblade? Poor baby got succumbed by peer pressure? Miss me with that bullshit, Dream. You and I both know that if you stood up for Tommy, and refused to exile him, nobody would’ve done shit! But no, you chose to exile him, and you know that. So at least admit to your actions and don’t shift blame, asshole.” you spat, fury getting the best of you, and apparently him, too, because he pulled his mask off so quickly that the strings almost broke, menacing green eyes boring into yours.

“He shouldn’t have burned down George’s house, he shouldn’t have tried robbing George, he shouldn’t have been a criminal when he’s vice president of a country! All actions have consequences, and he has to suffer those consequences to learn!” he borderline shouted, defending himself.

“He’s supposed to learn by being exiled and ripped away from everyone he loves? That’s how he’s supposed to learn not to fucking rob people? He’s sixteen, Dream! Sixteen! He’s a fucking kid- yes, he makes mistakes, but so do we! And we’re adults! Full, grown, fucking adults. What has he done to you to deserve this, you fucking psycho?!” you yelled, and you briefly saw him grit his teeth, jaw clenching.

“I’m not a psycho and you won’t be calling me that. He can’t go unpunished for the crimes he committed. Tommy is not as innocent as you make him out to be. And, once again, this was not my decision, it was made by Tubbo. If you have any issues, take it up with him, not me.” his eyes go darker than they were before, mirroring a brewing storm with no glints of the sun anymore.

“Right, because you’re so innocent. You never committed any crimes! You’ve never done anything bad! Our favorite good guy, Dream. Never tried to kill any minors. Bless his heart.” you mocked.

“I don’t fight anybody unless they provoke me first. Every time I fought Tommy, I wished I didn’t have to.” 

“I really expected more from you, Dream, I really did. I expected you to at least fucking admit to your actions, at least give me a proper excuse as to why you haven’t left me and my brothers alone from the start even though we wanted nothing but to live in peace and independence, why you do so much of the fucked up shit you do, but I guess I expected too much from you. You’re nothing - even Technoblade is more of a man than you, you know that?” you asked, leaning on one foot lazily. You see his hand clench - someone’s getting mad. “Technoblade admits to his fucking actions. Technoblade has had his goals set from the start, he’s always made them clear, and even though he’s a dirty traitor, at the end of the day, it’s still your fault for siding with him. But you - you’re a liar. You’re a liar, and a manipulator, and you never play fair - you always play dirty and play with people’s emotions and that’s how you win.”

You continue: “That’s because you can’t win fairly. That’s because you lose when you play fair. You think you have power, but you don’t. You just play by a different set of rules than everybody else, and we let you. Power will turn a man evil, Dream, but you’ve been evil from the start. People will always fear you because you trick everyone into believing you’re far more powerful than you really are - but you know what people will do with me, Wilbur, and Tommy, that they’ll never do with you?”

Silence.

“They’ll respect us. And you are a man worthy of no respect.”

You unleash your sword, pressing the blade to his throat in a matter of seconds, ready to push it through with no preparation but he grips your hand before you can do it, and he’s about to speak, when your eyes dart to his, and suddenly, your vision blurs, a movie playing behind your eyelids without you closing your eyes at all. 

It’s almost like you see the events play out in the depths of his gaze - you see him, the real him, who stands before you, and you see his face mirrored in the scenes that play out, you see him staring right at you through some kind of screen, a smile plastered on his face. His features look softer, and his eyes don’t glint the same way they do now, but it’s not a bad thing; they look warm, homely. Something bursts in your chest the more you look at him, and it all goes by so fast, but you manage to somehow catch all of it. 

You manage to catch his warm smile just as the days pass in flying colors right before your eyes, you manage to feel heat spread through your chest when you look at the man before you, you manage to see him cooking, and laughing, and running, and driving, and crying, and sleeping, and kissing you and it all feels so odd but so perfect at the same time. You’re looking at Dream, but it’s not him - you call him a different name. You can make out the silhouette of the actual Dream, who still grips your wrist, behind the scenes of you and the man with a striking resemblance to him, and you wonder if this is happening to him, too.

You see him on one knee, at a beach, and you feel yourself crying even though you don’t know what’s going on. You see him in a field, and you can make out a man who looks awfully like Sapnap sitting on a plastic chair in the front row among many, wiping tears before your gaze turns back to Dream, who grins at you, dressed in a tuxedo. You see a young boy with blonde hair running around the house, laughing, while you try to catch him, and then Dream appears in front of you, picking the boy up before you could. You see his face wrinkle as the days pass, and you finally see him close his eyes one last time while tears run down your face uncontrollably, and the whole thing stops. The scenes disappear and you’re snapped back into reality, Dream’s teary eyes boring into yours. 

And that’s when you realise.

You harshly pull away from his grip, eyes wide in shock, putting your sword back in place as you shake your head in disbelief. The tears don’t stop flowing, and you can’t tell if it’s shock, horror, disappointment or betrayal - betrayal in who? Fate, you suppose. 

“N-No way. No way. No.” You keep shaking your head, voice trembling as you back away from him. He can barely collect himself, too, staring at you as if you’re not real, as if he’s seeing a ghost.

“We’re- no. Fuck no. Fuck this shit, dude.” You laugh dryly, no humor in it whatsoever, a mix of disbelief and fear still weighing down on your voice as he tries to step towards you, wiping the tears off his face.

“We’re- we’re soulmates.” He stutters, but manages to ground himself way before you do, gripping your wrist again, and you feel almost electrocuted when a spark shoots through your whole body at his touch. You pull away, again, stepping backwards, praying there’s no wall behind you.

“No.” you repeat like a broken record, not even bothering to wipe the tears. “No- I- there must be a m-mistake, this can’t be-”

“There’s no mistake, Y/N. You’re my soulmate.” He takes both of your hands into his, holding your fingers gently, and it takes all the power in your body not to burst out crying again. 

“Y-You’re no soulmate of mine.” you gulp, pulling your hands away once again, finally managing to somehow collect your thoughts. “Fuck you. I don’t care what- what we fucking are. I’ll never love you.” 

You see him visibly stiffen at your words, mouth parting, and you almost feel bad. Almost.

“You can’t- you can’t go against fate like that. We’re soulmates, Y/N.” He sounds hurt. You manage to convince yourself that you don’t care.

“Watch me do it.” You spit, anger recollecting in your gut once again. “Fucking watch me. Find yourself somebody else. I’ll never forgive you.” 

“Listen, I’ll bring Tommy back, just listen-”

“So now you can suddenly go against Tubbo’s orders? When it fits you? Fuck you. You don’t need to bring Tommy back, because I’m leaving with him. Him and Wilbur were more soulmates to me than you ever, ever will be.” 

And with one last glare in his direction, you turn on your heel, stomping out of the Community House, rage burning your whole body as he watches you leave. 

A powerful man needs those who will give him power. Watching you walk away, Dream realised that one day, he’ll have no one.

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, do you accept order? If yes, you could make a single one shot of Yandere! Brat Spoiled, please...

What would it be like if Yandere were the son of wealthy parents who always have everything they want, when they don't always get what they like, always act like a spoiled brat (and also his parents are afraid of their son, as they have already seen what he is capable of when he gets angry)... that's where the reader comes in. She is a new student at school, a nice and kind person, so the yandere knows her and falls in love so strongly that she never felt that way in life, but the reader is always rejecting her advances for being a spoiled brat and the way he treats the people around you.

What happens next?

Title: Eat the poor

Tw: non - consensual touching, obsessive/possessive behavior, violence, low-key bullying, blackmail / coercion, reader is in university

Part 2

It had started during your very first year of college, back when you still felt motivated to go to school and meet new people. You had heard the rumors about him before ever meeting his gaze and oh, did they disappoint.

You met Gabrielle for the first time when the snowdrops bloomed and the birds returned home – in the early autumn, at night, in a small crowded room reeking of alcohol, sweat and cheap cologne which you quickly realized wasn’t his. The man smelt like the cigarettes he never got bored of and sweet caramel. He was wearing a big leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans, yet the simplicity of the outfit seemed to suit the expensive brands displayed on the clothing. In a way the student represented the typical youthful boyish beauty with his golden locks, eyes the color of the sky and frame tall and well – built. Yet his face remained motionless the whole night and his body stayed still despite the mass of bodies dancing around in rhythm. But then some poor unfortunate fool managed to bump into the male, spilling his drink all over him, and his pretty face quickly twisted into a mask of disgust and anger.

“You stupid piece of shit!” The male yelled shortly after as his fist connected with the stuttering boy’s stomach. His clear eyes were now two wild thunderstorms pouring rain and lightning over the tipsy guy who was nervously apologizing and promising to pay for the damages done. “Do you know how much this costs?” Gabrielle spat with venom and pushed the other onto the floor, bringing his black sneakers to that white shirt until there was a mark of dirt formed on the otherwise clean fabric. Everyone else in the room had stopped drinking now and all the eyes were pinned onto the two men yet no one had the courage to do anything. Your own heart was beating hard in your chest at the sudden display of unnecessary violence but you had always been a calm kid, a kind soul too scared of its own shadow to learn how to fight properly. So you had no idea what to do.

“My father can have you expelled, you know.” The blond man suddenly spoke out in a quiet eerie voice as he pressed his foot harder into the shorter boy’s stomach causing him to whimper and squirm. “Unless you are willing to beg for my forgiveness, that is.” The bully proposed with a sly smirk on his pink lips as he glared at the victim underneath. The student on the ground was clenching his eyes tight so no one could see the tears in them when he shook his head no. You finally decided you couldn’t let this inhumane scene go any further.

“Stop this madness right now!” You shouted manically, drawing all the attention to yourself as you made your way between the two men. Gabrielle immediately pinned his burning gaze on you in unhidden intrigue. “This is too cruel. He didn’t mean to bump into you. Please, leave him alone.” As much as you had wanted to curse at the spoiled rich boy there was this suffocating feeling in your lungs telling you to be careful and play the mediator. The others quickly started gasping and some were already gossiping at your reaction proving your point that the guy was indeed dangerous.

Then he looked you straight in the eyes with his deep blue ones. He chuckled softly before smacking his lips in an unpleasant way, his “tsk” sending shivers down your spine. You had fucked up. “Well, well, well… Looks like the new girl wants to play hero. How cliché.” The bully grinned as he let his gaze roam up and down your body, your cheeks turning red in return when having realized he was handsome even while doing something so vulgar. “But if you do want to help him so badly…” The golden – haired man paused for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. “Maybe we could have a little deal, bunny.” He moved his leg away from the sobbing boy and stepped in front of you. From this close you could feel the warmth of his skin and the sweet aroma of burnt sugar it radiated. Gabrielle tilted your chin up almost gently and whispered in your ear “Kiss me.”

You tried to break free from the uncomfortable pose but the student simply squeezed your jaw line harder, his eyes cold and calculating, following your every move. You mind went blank and foggy at the forced intimacy and you couldn’t think straight with his breath on your neck. It felt like the time had slowed down just so the sadistic snob could mess with you a little longer. You opened your mouth to voice your protests but fortunately you didn’t have to say anything because at the very same time the host of the party appeared, ready to stop the fight.

“Gabrielle, I’d have to ask you to leave.” The dark – haired junior growled enraged as he pushed the taller male away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at him in appreciation. He was the only one brave enough to help you after all. “You are ruining the party for everyone. ” The stranger continued. The blonde seemed irritated at the sudden interruptance yet it was obvious he was powerless against the owner of the house. Still he grit his teeth and signed in annoyance as he turned to face the host. “Fuck you, Jackson!” The man cursed but eventually moved towards the door, red with anger. “My father will hear about this.” He looked at you as he reached for the golden doorknob, his features softened. “See you around, bunny.”

This was the first time you met Gabrielle. You already wished it was the last.

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

After the incident the snob seemed interested in you, blatantly so. He would eye you up in the halls like you were a shiny new toy in a claw machine and try to strike a conversation no matter how much you ignored him. The man never once apologized for what happened at the party but at least he didn’t bring it up so you counted it as a small victory. You gradually understood just how much power and money the heir had. His father owned casinos, hotels, banks and apparently even the university you two were studying in received major monthly donations by the big businessman. This explained why everyone was so scared of the blonde, especially when he did nothing but flaunt his status at the slightest inconvenience. And now he wanted you.

In your eyes the boy was just an annoying brat who lived off daddy’s hard work, there really wasn’t much to him that intrigued you. The male was handsome, pretty even, but his grades were terrible and his interests were bland and shallow, mostly involving expensive brands and grand parties. But the worst thing about him was his personality. The snob treated his friends like servants and his enemies like dirt, but you he rather saw as a challenge. Gabrielle would ask you out every time you were unlucky enough to run into him. The first time the man gave you so many roses you couldn’t even count them, the second he demanded your affection with a silver necklace in hand ready to cover your neck in his mark of ownerships. You couldn’t recall all the other gifts the blonde used to try and court you with but you remembered refusing each and every one.

“Why can’t you just give me a chance?” He exclaimed one day after you had just returned the expensive bracelet you had found in your locker. It was a dark winter night and the heir seemed irritated with you for the first time, his eyes a deep electric blue just like the sky. The man had you cornered against the wall but you were used to his pathetic attempts at intimidation. Yet today there was something different in the air around him, some small voice at the back of your head wondered whether this time he wasn’t just joking around. “Are you still angry about that little wimp I expelled, bunny?” Gabrielle asked contemptuously yet his pupils remained cold and distant. Once again he was too close for your liking, too close for you to function properly, but that was probably exactly what he wanted. You to be compliant and obedient like all the others who crawled and kneeled at the very sight of him. “Or are you sulking because I beat up Jones after he asked you out, hmm?” What? The blonde man was the one who gave Tony the black eye? But he had told you it was just a street fight… Why had your friend covered for the bully you both hated?

“Why would you do that to him?” You whispered, staring at the twisted boy in front of you. Your heart was beating fast and your blood was boiling hot in your veins but you couldn’t let him win by showing him how much his actions affected you. Gabrielle reached out and cupped your cheek gently before smirking mischievously. “He was trying to take something that belonged to me.” The heir said casually as if he was talking about the weather. His fingers were cold against your warm skin and you fought the urge to vomit right then and there. “I am not yours.” You spat out with poison and pushed his hand away from your face. Next thing you know his knee was separating your thighs, lifting your short black skirt up, his breath lingering on your neck. “S-stop.” You stuttered and tried to squirm out of his hold but the man easily caught your wrists and brought them above your head, pinning you further into the wall. He was stronger than he looked and you felt so small and helpless in that moment you could have cried if your stubbornness hadn’t prevailed.

“What don’t you like about me?” The blonde suddenly spoke out, his voice unnaturally broken and needy, bordering on a whine, crying out in desperation. You weren’t sure whether he was trying to manipulate you now or if he actually wanted you to answer so you decided to be honest anyways. “I hate the way you treat other people. I could never love someone as cruel as you.” You inhaled deeply, ready to voice all the painful thoughts you had kept inside since the beginning of the semester. “You are spoilt rotten. Metaphorically and literally.” The man was breathing sharply like a wounded animal after hearing your words and as much as you wanted to sympathize with him, you couldn’t bring yourself to after everything he had done to you and your friends. He was irredeemable. “Let me go.” You finally demanded, hoping to use him weakened emotional state to your advantage.

Instead Gabrielle clenched his teeth and squeezed down harder on your already bruised wrists causing you to whimper in dull pain. His eyes were wet but the tears had finally stopped just like his willingness to show you his vulnerable side. The man had tried being nice and sweet to you, patient, then mean and patronizing, and neither worked. So obviously it was time to become the terrifying bratty monster everyone was so keen on believed he was.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to go missing after talking to you just once?” The heir whispered in your ear as his free hand traveled down to your waist, drawing you into his hard chest. You groaned at the sudden realization that the snob was actually right, less and less guys seemed to show up to your shared lectures in the last few months, but you had always assumed they just needed a break from school. University was stressful after all. “Did you…” You started off but couldn’t find the right words. Did you force your father to expel them? Did you harm them? Maybe a part of you didn’t want to know the answer. “I did.” Gabrielle responded before you could even finish the sentence. The sly smirk you knew way too well adorned his lips and it wasn’t hard to see he had already won. “And I will keep doing it until you agree to be mine and mine alone.” The man stated confidently as he sucked the sensitive skin of your neck until you arched your back in shock, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “N-nhgg.” You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your warm flesh leaving a scarlet mark for all to see. “Come on, baby, we both know you are too good to let them suffer because of your own selfishness.” He taunted you as he left a line of small wet kisses along your exposed collarbone. You wanted to argue, to yell at him how you weren’t the crazy, selfish one, but deep down you knew it was pointless. Gabrielle had power and you had nothing to bargain with. He could have anyone yet he wanted to torment you. “Give into me. I promise I can make you happy if you let me.” The blonde uttered softly as his lips brushed against yours, almost touching them, following your reaction with his clear eyes. Your own were puffy and red from the tears but he didn’t seem to care much about your misery and discomfort. The man wished to own, not to please, but you couldn’t do anything. And of course you wouldn’t let him ruin the lives of the innocent. Of course your stupid heart was too good and human for your own good. So you closed your eyes and slowly connected your lips with him even though they tasted almost metallic, like blood and defeat.

“I knew you would come around, bunny.”

[bookgirlfan]

One Falls, Two Withstand

Also on AO3

“Carapace!” Chat Noir pounces on him in a hug, and Ladybug turns away, making her fists unclench. 

“Dude, you saw me two days ago!” Carapace laughs, but his arms go around Chat in return. 

Ever since Chat found out it’s Nino behind the mask, they’ve built a strong friendship. They chatter together on patrols, and have already started developing that easy back and forth that makes her and Chat work so smoothly. 

She’s not jealous, she tells herself. Chat’s always been affectionate, it doesn’t mean anything that he hugs Carapace every time they meet up, or that he’ll curl up at Carapace’s side and purr as they rest after patrols, the way he used to do only with her. She knows her partner craves affection, knows he gets lonely in his civilian life. He’s never told her, but she knows. So she’s not jealous, because Carapace is making Chat happy, and what kind of friend would she be to be jealous of that? 

She can’t even be mad on Alya’s behalf, because Marinette doesn’t doubt she knows it’s happening. If Chat knows Nino, he knows Nino has a girlfriend, and her kitty would never agree to be someone’s dirty secret. Besides, Nino loves Alya. He’d tell her. 

“The alum’s after Mayor Bourgeois,” she says loudly, and the boys split apart. Chat comes to her side, face serious, and she tries very hard not to feel victorious. This isn’t a competition.

***

“I think Ladybug’s mad at me,” Nino confides to Alya over Andre’s ice cream. 

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Ice cream slides from his tiny spoon, and he quickly licks it before it slides off. Alya laughs at him. “It’s not my fault Chat Noir figured out who I am!” 

“How did he figure it out?” Her eyes are bright with journalistic eagerness, and it makes his heart warmer. 

He shrugs, trying to hide just how much she affects him. “No clue, babe.” He loves Alya, so much it makes his heart hurt sometimes, but there’s no way he’s telling her Chat Noir recognised him for being Adrien’s best friend. Bros don’t betray bros like that, and Chat is now definitely his bro. 

Alya’s tapping her spoon against her lip, ignoring the ice-cream between them. “I don’t think it’s that. Ladybug knows, and I know, so why would she care if Chat Noir knows? Is he not trustworthy?” Her eyes light up. “Maybe it’s because of all the times he’s been mind-controlled! She thinks Hawkmoth will use him to find who you are!” 

“Dude!” Nino protests. Ever since becoming Carapace, it’s been more painful to think of the times the heroes have been in danger, unprotected. Him and Chat Noir being best friends now has only made that stronger. “Ladybug totally trusts him. He only gets mind-controlled because he’s protecting her.” 

“Okay, so it must be something else.” Alya’s now staring at him with laser intensity, and Nino’s torn between thinking how hot she is like this and wishing he’d never brought this up. “What exactly did she say?” 

Nino takes another scoop of ice cream, avoiding her gaze. “It’s not really anything she said. She just looked mad whenever I was chatting with Chat, and kept telling us to focus. Maybe it was just a bad day.” 

“I don’t think so.” Alya has a knowing smile on her face. Nino hates and loves that smile. “Next time, tell me exactly what she says and does. I think I know what she’s really mad about.” 

***

Next time Ladybug brings him in, he does pay more attention to her reactions. 

There’s nothing strange at first. Ladybug gives him the miraculous, he says hi to Wayzz, he transforms, and they go meet up with Chat. Chat glomps him once they get close enough, as is their new habit, then Chat updates them on where the akuma is and that he thinks the butterfly is in her hat. It’s all as normal as it gets around here. 

They head towards where Chat last saw the akuma, but it’s moved faster than expected. 

Trafficata is what she’s calling herself, and honestly, she’s one of the funnier akumas Nino has seen. She must have been one frustrated driver, because she’s costumed like a traffic light, and when she shines her light on people they will stop, slow, or go, according to the colour she’s shining.

Ladybug calls her Lucky Charm, and a lipstick case falls into her hand. She stares at it, then at their surroundings. 

Chat must see something on her face Nino doesn’t, because he doesn’t wait for her to figure it out. “I’ll cover you, milady, just tell me what you need!” He jumps down to street level and starts distracting the akuma. 

“Go with him,” Ladybug says to Nino. She’s looking at him now, even as her fingers feel along the edge of the case. “She’s faster than we thought.” 

“Right, dude.” Nino nods, and jumps down to the street as well. 

He does not land as smoothly as Chat had, falling to the ground, and the alum’s attention swings towards him.

Her hand raises, her body changing colour - 

- Nino can’t move, stranded on his back like the turtle he is - 

- the beam fires - 

- something heavy slams into Nino, and he skids across the alley. He looks back just in time to see the flash fade, revealing Chat Noir lying on the ground. 

Chat Noir doesn’t move. 

Nino doesn’t breathe. 

Chat’s tail raises slowly, oh so slowly, and Nino finally pulls in a breath, panting with the lack of air. Before he can think if it’s really the right move he’s yelling “Shell-ter!” and a glowing green shield comes up around the two of them. 

Nino scrambles to Chat’s side. He’s still moving far too slowly, and it takes Nino’s panicked brain a long second to realise Chat must have been hit by the amber light. 

He’s not dying. 

He’s not brainwashed. 

He took a hit for Nino, but he’ll be okay. 

He took a hit for Nino, who has a literal shield, and a shield power. 

Nino’s respect for Ladybug has skyrocketed, and it was already through the roof. How does she not collapse under the weight of all this worry? Chat’s taken a hit for him once, and already Nino is terrified of the next time it happens. 

Because there will be a next time, he has no doubts about that. He might be the one with the shield, but Chat Noir’s been shielding his Lady since they started. And now that he and Chat are proper friends, Nino has apparently been added to the category ‘People Chat Noir Will Die For’. 

He hopes he’s exaggerating in his worry, but judging from Chat and Ladybug, he knows he’s not. His girlfriend is the Ladyblogger, he knows how many times Chat Noir has literally died for Ladybug. Alya has graphs. 

(93 times. 93 times Chat Noir has died to save Ladybug. That’s not even counting all the times he’s taken a hit for her and survived it. 

Nino tries not to think about that. 

He suspects Ladybug thinks about it a lot.) 

Nino helps Chat up, pulling him to his feet when he’s too slow-moving to keep himself balanced. “Dude, I thought I was the slow one,” he jokes, because jokes are easy and this is hard. 

Chat doesn’t answer for a long moment, and Nino has a flash of terror that he was wrong, Chat won’t be okay, and it will be all Nino’s fault. 

“Toooo ffaaaasstt fffoooorrr mmeeeee,” Chat says, each word coming out like he’s in slow motion. 

“What did you say, dude?” Nino says, before he realises. Chat literally is in slow motion. He was hit by the amber light. “Oh, no. I gotta get you out of here, you can’t fight like this.” 

Chat’s frowning, clearly trying to understand what Nino’s saying. Nino doesn’t wait for him to figure it out, just grabs him and leaps. Chat’s too slow to resist, and that’s exactly why he’s doing it. He’s already seen Chat take one hit for him today. He’s not giving him the chance to do it again. 

***

The battle’s over, but Nino still feels unsettled. He’s grateful when Ladybug suggests they meet up again after they recharge their kwamis - he’s not willing to say goodbye to Chat Noir just yet. 

As soon as they’re reunited, Chat curls up beside Ladybug and she pets his hair, looking slightly smug. Nino doesn’t understand until she glances at him and the smugness grows more pronounced. This is what Alya knew. Ladybug thinks she and Nino are competing for Chat’s attention, and she’s winning. 

Joke’s on her, Nino was never playing. Chat Noir is Ladybug’s through and through, and it had never even occurred to Nino it could go any other way. They’re partners. They get each other in a way even Nino’s newfound friendship with Chat doesn’t touch. 

Besides, if he plays this game, there are no winners. Especially not Chat. 

So instead, he goes over to them and sits down beside Ladybug, not close enough to to be touching but enough they’ll both know he’s there. It’s been a hard day and he doesn’t want to crowd them. They’re the duo, he’s just here to help them. 

His efforts are in vain. Chat Noir immediately wriggles until he’s stretched over both of their laps, tail lashing gently in what Nino now knows is happiness. Once he’s settled, Ladybug resumes stroking his hair, and Nino feels a rumbling through Chat’s body. 

“He’s purring,” Ladybug answers Nino’s unasked question. The smugness is gone now, her smile down at her partner filled solely with fondness and the dregs of worry. “He does that.” 

Nino doesn’t know much about cats, but from the expression on Ladybug’s face, the purring is definitely a good thing. It's a bit weird, having a teenage boy in black leather sprawled over his lap, but after today’s fight Nino doesn’t mind keeping Chat close. At least that way he knows he’s safe. 

“Please don’t take hits for me, dude,” he says, so low he doesn’t know if Chat will hear. He just needs to say it. “I’ve got a shield, it’s my job to protect you. You’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. Paris needs Ladybug to purify the akumas, but dude, Paris needs you too.” 

Chat wriggles closer. Nino doesn’t know if that’s meant to be an answer. He doesn’t even know if Chat’s still awake. The purring doesn’t seem like an entirely conscious thing. 

Nino feels eyes on him, and looks up to see Ladybug giving him an approving look. He looks back down at Chat, embarrassed. It’s nice to know he now has her stamp of approval of Chat Noir’s friend, but those words hadn’t been for her. Ladybug’s amazing, and he’d follow her anywhere, but she’s not the one who’s his friend. She just saw his desperation to save Alya from Anansi and decided to trust him. 

But Chat? Chat is the one who jokes with him, talks to him when they’re together on patrol, and is always delighted to see him. Chat’s the one who’s always willing to listen, and will try to give advice even though he’s surprisingly terrible at figuring out human interactions. (Despite everything, Nino is a little bit convinced that Chat Noir is actually a cat transformed into a human by the power of the miraculous.) Chat is the one who pushed him out of the way of an akuma, taking the strike himself. Chat is his friend. More than that, Chat is his best friend. 

(He still hasn’t told Adrien that he has another best friend, and he knows he can’t tell Adrien who it is, but he can’t wait for when Hawkmoth is defeated and he can introduce them. He knows they’ll get along purrfectly.)

[melo-yello]

✨Self-Care Day✨w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku HeadCanons💥🪨

Off Day

💥🪨 You’re hanging upside down on the couch in your shared apartment with a boyfriend on either side of you. Kiri’s hand in yours while Baku’s had one hand on your thigh and the other scrolling on his phone as some cartoon drones on the tv

💥🪨 This is not how you envisioned your first free weekend into the last two weeks going



💥🪨 You sigh loudly before poking out your bottom lip “Suki? Eiji? I’m bored.” you pout dramatically as you throw a hand onto your forehead before you continue “Can we do a self-care day?”

💥🪨 Baku just grunts in affirmation as he stretches before standing. Kiri just smiles “Of course, Pebble. Whatever you want.”

💥🪨 You pop up pecking both guys on the cheek as you bounce off to the kitchen with Kiri’s hand still in yours “Thanks you two are the best!I’ll make tea!!!”

💥🪨 “And don’t you forget it!” Bakugou smiles popping your soft ass as he follows behind most likely to micromanage

💥🪨 You three chat about your week not having much time outside of courses to really talk. Between studying, training, and hero work you guys just didn’t have a lot going of free time.

💥🪨Per usual you and Kiri really carry the conversation Baku only chiming in ever so often to offer up things that he hates

💥🪨 You pop up remembering one of for favorite parts of a good ole fashioned treat yo self day. The cute headbands for you and Kiri to push your hair out of your faces. You return with a pink bunny one, a brown Teddy Bear one, and a plain black headband. Baku takes the black and Kiri takes the bunny.

💥🪨 “How do I look, Peb?” Kiri smirks flexing to show his broad ass built ass frame after putting on his bunny headband. “Ridiculous.” “-ly Hawt!” You laugh correcting Baku

💥🪨 You film in absolute awe as your Manly bf’s pierce Suki’s ear with ease after the off handed joke you made sipping tea. Cue Baku voguing it up with pride and a freshly pierced ear. Bakugou is slightly leaner and a couple inches shorter but just as toned

💥🪨 “Suki, Eiji, you are too manly!” You hype your man up as you post the video to your IG story

💥🪨 It’s your turn now!! Kiri easily pierces your ears with a red stud in your right and an orange in your left. Adding a second set of holes right above your first ones

💥🪨 Next comes high quality and novelty animal face masks Bakugou buys online to compliment his vigorous skin care routine. It rivals half of the YouTube Beauty community’s

💥🪨 Niether of you have any idea of where he buys them or where he hides them for that matter. He stores them away so you guys can’t steal them when he’s not around. Bakugou allows you and Kiri to use his masks on special occasions tho

💥🪨 “Mr. and Mrs. Dumbass.” He smirks handing you a frog and Kiri a tiger. Earning him a playful jab from you and “A Thanks, Babe.” from the red head

💥🪨 You suggest nail 💅🏾 polish next and Kiri is automatically on board. “Oooooo can you make them Red, Babygirl? Because they’d be so manly!” Kiri beams bouncing up and down. Baku will only allow his middle fingers painted. “I want white with bombs or just F U. Whichever is easier for you, Teddy Bear.” Bakugou nods scrunching up his nose from behind his own red panda face mask.

💥🪨 Kirishima’s nails are a simple sparkly red that say 🤍BITE MANLY in white while Bakugou’s middle fingers are white with black bombs with an orange F U on each one respectively

💥🪨 After you peel off your masks, you and Kirishima squeal in nearly perfect sync “Oooooooooooo! Sooooo Soft! Aren’t we hawt, Bakubro! Seeeeeeeeeee!” Both of you placing his hand on your faces

💥🪨Bakugou will just roll his red eyes into the back of his head as you two wrap him in a tight embrace “I’ve told you idiots a thousand times the importance of regular skin care with quality products.” He shrugs nonchalantly even thought he loves when you two are touchie with him. He hates to admit it

💥🪨 As you begin to search you nail kit for your preferred color, Kiri grabs your hand and presses it to his cheek “Can we do yours, Pebble?” He pouts. Bakugou follows suit grabbing your other hand “Pretty please, Teddy?” He whines firmly pressing your hand to his heart.

💥🪨 You buckle so fast it’s not even funny. “Bbbbbbbut...😤😖😞fine.” You concede

💥🪨These two really know how to put on the charm. Especially if Bakugou Kasuki is calling you Teddy instead of Dumbass.

💥🪨 “Great! Y/n, pick out a show to watch before we start.” Baku barks handing you the remote. “Why?” You question snatching it and putting on Criminal Minds. Simply thrilled you were getting to pick (Typically there were mini competitions for such a privilege)

💥🪨 “You’re judging, Bighead. You can’t look til we’re done.” Kiri hums thoughtfully trying to pick a good color combination. Baku already had his colors hidden in his lap before scouting so his hip was against yours sure to obscure your view of your own hand from you.

💥🪨 “Yea, no bias. When I win it’ll because I’m the best! Isn’t that right, Shitty Hair!” The ash blonde smiles cockily at the red head across from him. “In your fucking dreams, Spark plug!” Kiri spits backs just taking all the colors and copying Bakugou’s positioning

💥🪨 “If either of you fuckers, get those polishes on my favorite jeans there’ll be hell to pay.” You warn with a sinister tone to rival even Katsuki’s and the widest smile. The boys shiver at the seriousness behind your smile. Your threat is far from empty

💥🪨 You pretty much figured your nails would probably look terrible with each of your vividly different boyfriends competing with each other. “What do you, dorks, even get for winning?” You muse leaning into Kiri’s broad ass shoulder

💥🪨 “The next date plans and solo cuddles with Teddy Bear for the rest of the night seems fair to me. Huh, Eijirou?” Baku looks up from his work with a self assured grin blowing one of your nails. Vermilion irises float from you to Kiri.

💥🪨 Knowing damn well niether of them could keep you their hands off you. “Deal.” Kiri nods without giving Baku the satisfaction of meeting his gaze.

💥🪨 “Oh and I get shitly painted nails.” You sigh rolling your eyes. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it kinda hawt when they got like this

💥🪨 “There.” Halfway through the 2nd episode Kiri says and finally caps his last polish. Blowing gently across the surface of your nails.

💥🪨 By this time Baku has placed your arm on his lower back and his head in your lap. A firm grip on your wrist so you couldn’t checkout his work until Kiri finished. Your fingers make light circles there despite being held hostage. “Bout time, slow poke.” Baku huffs releasing your arm as you brought both hands side by side.

💥🪨 They had somehow managed to pick colors that didn’t totally clash. Kiri’s hand were mix match rose gold and pink with the teeniest (not to mention even) little white hearts in the middle of each nail.

💥🪨 Baku’s hand was very simple and clean. Black French tips with one red to orange nail with a black X on top as an accent.

💥🪨 You weren’t expecting anything this good. You could barely speak. You hadn’t been this lost for words since they had asked you out. You sniffle a lil bit. Your eyes glass up a little too.

💥🪨 God your partners are so great sometimes. The fact that they genuinely gave a fuck still manages to catch you off guard at times. After so many terrible relationships, effort, in and of itself, is kinda baffling

💥🪨 “Damn Pebs, it’s not that bad if you squint.” Kiri laughs nervously squeezing your shoulders. “Woah there, Teddy Bear, I’ll get the remover.” Baku stands ruffling your curls before you grab his wrist stopping him in his tracks.

💥🪨 “Suki. Eiji. Don’t be mad but I can’t pick! You guys both did really good! Fuck! I couldn’t ask for better lovers. You assholes are so much better than I deserve!” You gush before hiding your face in your hands. A little ashamed you let your boyfriends doing something as simple as your nails make you emotional.

💥🪨 “But Baby you deserve the world.” Kirishima immediately scoops you into a bear hug as he stands spinning you with ease and peppering you in kisses. Kiri places you back down even more gently than picked you up

💥🪨 “Princess, you’re a bad bitch! Don’t you dare forget it!” The shorter ash blonde says unwaveringly lifting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. He softly bops your forehead before kissing it and both cheeks. He pulls you close right as he yanks you up to straddle his waist

💥🪨 “Eijirou, I think our Babygirl needs a reminder of who she is and who she’s with.” His already deep ruby eyes darken lustfully. With no hesitation Kiri is right behind you in seconds

💥🪨 “I know just thing to jog our Pebble’s memory, Katsuki.” He whispers licking the side of your neck just as moves to capture Katsuki’s lips with his own

💥🪨 “Promise?” You moan softly lacing fingers into Kiri’s loose kitchens and trailing a cool hand across Baku’s abdomen stopping only at his joggers waist band

💥🪨 With that the three head to the bed room for some much needed group physical therapy