#idk if its because i do it or that i think hes posh or what

[littleliterarylesbian]

regulus the kind of man to put his chapstick on with his fingers

[miasthoughtsteeheehawhaw]

eye symbolism?? idk man its late and i have thoughts (this is about bakugou btw)

so in mha's artstyle the child characters are drawn with big eyes (which is not unheard of in anime and manga) and i got to thinking that this probably symbolizes some sort of childhood innocence (being kids and all)

so bakugou, has innocence in these flashbacks right? hes just a kid after all (his eyes are a touch smaller and more angular which is either just a stylistic choice or something ill dig real deep into at some point idk im just trying to crank these words out before i go to bed)

but obviously the big-eyed look is not on bakugou for very long as if we look at him nowadays his eyes appear to have shrunk just a tad

(also, sidenote: do you even understand how hard it is to find a picture of bakugou thats not either fan art or surrounded by hearts and shit? sorry anyway)

look at them dinky eyes. now what has happened to this goblin of a boy? ill tell you.

society

^please read that in a posh old timey british accent please it makes it funny please laugh at my jokes i promise im actually funny guys i swear

anyway lets get into quirkism (is that the word? idk). so because reasons i dont need to explain, quirkism is deeply ingrained into society, so when children develop (or dont develop) their quirks, the 'strong' kids are idolized by not only their fellow children but their teachers and adults in their life as well, which may lead to a somewhat inflated ego....not gonna name names but BAKUGOUBAKUGOUBAKUGOUBAKUGOUBAKUGOUBAKUGOU

anyway

so hes been hardened by societys expectations of him so of course hes gonna be a little mean (okay i admit a little is a bit of an understatement given the whole 'kill yourself' bit, not his finest moment, i must say) so am i excusing his behavior? NO! HE DID A BAD THING

however it would not have reached that point if someone had intervened. maybe said something along the lines of 'hey bakugou maybe dont bully that guy thats really shitty' but bakugou never faced any consequences for it really. his gaggle of goons encouraged it and the teachers never stopped it.

this post started with eyes...i got a little side tracked...whoops anyway back to eyes

you may be thinking: 'mia youre stupid and wrong, the change in eye size is just to show that bakugou is older.' and to that i say NUH UH

i raise you midoriya

TAKE A GANDER AT THEM BIG OLE EYEBALLS!

i think they represent his hope and resilience and his willingness to be vulnerable

eyes are the window to the soul and his are so big you can see right through them. you can SEEEEE

but bakugou yall, he got them dinky eyes. theyre small and closed off because he sees vulnerability as a weakness. what does bakugou hate? being weak. so hes got small eyes so no one can see him

anyway i totally read wayyy too much into that but i mean, let a gal have fun

[yippie-madness]

can my mum please stop being an asshole for one second.

idk what anyone did but shes so pissed off all the time at everyone for everything and she won't stop fucking complaining. shes having some kind o mid life crisis and going through menopause and shes like a stupid teenager from a movie with the whole mood swing thing. we know your going through menopause but your 50, fucking handle it. its all the time thats she does this. when i showed her what i did in biology she found a way to complain and make it about her self. im sorry you had to live in Trinidad, the place you choose to live in. wow it must of been sooo hard for you being the only white person their. wow you got called whitey twice in the like year you lived their. horrific. im sorry dad had a job and was away making money so you could fucking live. shes so fucking lazy too all if a sudden and selfish. all she dies is go for stupid fucking hikes and she need to get it out her system or whatever but can you please please please take care of the house a little? i haven't had a proper meal in weeks. maybe over a month now. we have take away or ready meals every day because she never cooks. their was some kind of fungus(?) growing in the sink and the fridge smells of rotting food and no one is doing anything. she is so ungrateful complaining and complaining and taking everything out on everyone else. and shes so petty. made a pie today instead of real food and then refused to cut dad a slice because he won't buy her a new car for her. buy your own fucking car. your 50, not 15. me and my dad are having to manage all of my medical stuff because she just gets angry if you ask her to do ANYTHING. i have like 3 days left of my med that i need to take daily, i cannot miss a day, and she only just got the refill to the pharmacy. my dad had to fix the main issue with it because she refused to call the hospital and she just keeps lying and dramatising everything. i don't know what her problem is. shes so incapable of doing things, the only way she has gotten this far is because other people just pander to her. she never had to think as a kid in her big fucking house and her posh primary school. she doesn't know how to make a single decision and she is so fucking mean to me. she doesn't mean it but please please stop making me feel bad for being so sick. i cant go in hikes with you im sorry i want to im sorry im so fucking tired. ive been asking for months now and because she refuses to take shit seriously or do anything for anyone else beyond sticking a packet in the microwave. and even then my dad did it for her because apparently shes incapable of making a doctors appointment. all i asked for was one appointment with my gp. but no. i don't even get that. i think therapy is pretty bullshity, over prescribed, and pseudoscience but i just wish she went to therapy so someone anyone could call her an asshole with all the polite padding. but she never would because she wont take criticism. you can't be in control of everything if you want do shit.

i probably sound like a spoilt brat.

[starlightiing]

I want to know about the inception au! Who is more like Arthur, who is more like Eames, what is their history, what are they doing that requires them to be dressed up... spill anything you want!

Oooh very good questions! I literally just put my brain together for the Inception AU last night so maybe we can all help me develop this one! I had a plot for the Inception AU with other drivers, but not for these two specifically.

Arthur and Eames have their own sort of complicated personalities. I think Esteban is more Eames - not afraid to be silly, wicked smart but hides it behind the silly and the aloof.

Comparing Pierre to Arthur is a little more difficult, because Arthur is VERY rigid, he's very proper, he's very posh, he's very...a lot of things Pierre really isn't. But Pierre is also not really like Eames at all - so I think his personality aligns more with Arthur's. He's particular, he wants things certain ways, he likes to be in control, ect ect.

This gets so long, my apologies.

If we stick with that comparison, that would of course make Pierre the Point-Man (idk how into Inception you are, but I've done extensive deep dives and used to write one of the characters for fun (Eames actually) so I did a ton of research on it and probably know more than even Christopher Nolan himself) but the point-man is the info guy. He does all the research, makes sure not a hair is out of place. Makes sure the team knows what to expect and how to expect it. He's kind of the biggest part in terms of set up and execution.

So that would leave Esteban as the forger which, in my opinion, oddly fits. The forger of course is the 'shapeshifter' who can manifest themselves to look like anyone they so choose inside of a dream. But it goes deeper than that, of course. If they are to play an important role (like someone close to the mark, the person they are invading) it isn't enough to look the part, you have to act the part. It comes down to studying the person you're going to forge, making sure you get the finest details, the smallest mannerisms, speak like them, ect. So basically he would be an actor!!! Who can change what he looks like in dreams to manipulate marks.

Why are they dressed up? Well, that's just because everyone in the movie is always dressed to the nines LOL They're running around with guns in suits and fancy outfits. I guess that wouldn't mean EVERYONE in the business does that, but its more fun that way, don't you think? Especially if they're doing really high-risk jobs for a shit ton of money.

Coming up with their history is going to be much more interesting. Arthur and Eames in the film NEVER go over what exactly happened between them. It's just snide comments. Cobb says, "I'm going after Eames" and Arthur is just like "what? no? he's in Mombasa." and Cobb goes there any picks him up anyway. Then in a conversation with Eames..

EAMES: It's perfectly possible. Just bloody difficult. COBB: That's what I keep saying to Arthur. EAMES: Arthur? You're still working with that stick-in-the-mud? COBB: He's a good point man. EAMES: The best. But he has no imagination. If you're going to perform inception, you need imagination.

Of course, then, there's the scene where they're all in their little team meeting coming up with the idea to plant in Robert's head...

Cobb : That might work. Arthur : Might? We're gonna need to do a little better than 'might'. Eames : Oh, thank you for your contribution, Arthur. Arthur : Forgive me for wanting a little specificity, Eames. Eames: Chuckling but also looking at him like ???? Arthur : Specificity?

And this gem:

Arthur : Eames, I am impressed. Eames : Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Arthur, thank you.

And two parts later that are much more minor - Arthur pulling out a gun to shoot against some heavily armed security, Eames pushing him aside with this huge ass bazooka, "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling." - the line that sailed the ship in the dwindling inception fandom ahaha.

And then later when Arthur puts them all to sleep in the hotel room so they can go down to the snow level. Eames says, "Security is going to run you down hard." and Arthur replies with, "And I will lead them on a merry chase." Eames: Be sure to be here in time for the kick. Arthur, aggravated: Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.

So that's really all the crumbs we get in terms of those two, with only the simple implication that they've PROBABLY worked together a time or two before (Probably more than that - because why does Arthur IMMEDIATELY know where Eames is when Cobb asks if they don't like each other? And why is Eames so readily able to admit that Arthur is the best at what he does, he just has no imagination?) They work VERY well together, their personalities just clash and they have some sort of disdain for each other. Though more than anything, Eames finds it very funny and Arthur kind of takes it a lot more personal/serious.

With all THAT said - we can assume, safely, that Pierre and Esteban probably used to run small jobs together back when they were younger. Dream sharing IS illegal, just in case anyone forgot, and not exactly the easiest thing to access. They probably got in around the same time, or Esteban pulled Pierre in after he'd been in it a year or two, and went from there. I'd say they probably had a few jobs go sour, sometimes because of Pierre and sometimes because of Esteban, sometimes because of someone else on the team - whatever. And these are high stakes jobs.

If you don't fulfill yours and your client's contract, they do come after you. Usually to kill. Hence why Arthur and Cobb were on the run after that first failed mission right away in the movie.

I would imagine it makes tensions build and eventually they just work together so much and get so sick of each other that it starts to cause fights, arguments, ect. I feel like something pretty major must have happened - maybe one of their team mates was killed, maybe a dream went horribly wrong and they were stuck in limbo together to the point of wanting to rip each other's throats out - I'm not really sure. Ideas and suggestions always welcome.

But whatever it may be - they CAN, at least, work together they would just rather not. So then being paired together on one of the biggest jobs of their lives, with the most at stake, the highest risk, also simultaneously the hardest thing they've ever done (because no one has achieved inception before aside from one person) - it causes a lot of tension. Some of it coming out in more...sexual and emotional ways.

Thoughts? Prayers? Let me know what you think! I feel like I've given you a fucking novel at this point, but this is LEGIT the process my brain goes through when I start formulating ideas - especially AUs based on movies and such. I have more to add I'm sure, I just have to stew on it a bit, toss some ideas around, figure out what exactly happened between the two...and then I can put it all together.

Thanks for reading (and for the ask!)

[digital-roots]

the copperbottom x toppat!sweetheart from the swapmirror au is rotting in my brain rn auagghhhhh its like a cursed amulet i clutch close to me despite the curses it beholds

theres just something so. fucking beautiful with having this guy who's whole worldviews a jaded shade who crosses paths with a sincere and all-loving person who chooses kindness, something she knows is a good asset of leadership, even though everyone else thinks she's weak for doing so. And the fact that uhm reg c literally falls for her because she loves him for who he is and without having to earn that approval???? good goddddddddsd i love "i love my wife" characters its awesome swag

i never really considered how sweetheart could love reg c though. hmmm... I think.... Terrence would just try to be nice to him at first, cuz she's nice to everybody. but i think she'd admire that he *also* cares about the successfulness of the clan. maybe even hints of his cleverness and his own leadership skills, she would really admire how confident and effortless he seems to be when in charge. A trait she wishes she could have both as Cowwoy Sheriff or in swapmirror Toppat Queen. But wouldn't like the bits of manipulative traits he has.

I imagine they kind of are at odds at first (but to the full blown rivalry of original suave vs reginald). Just that.... Reg c would think she's a weak right hand lady at first for not being more commanding and Sweetheart would hmph at Reg c acting all coy and sly about it. But then they see each other's strengths for the very thing they thought they didn't like and badda bing badda boom friendship time.

Reg c wouldn't think much about their friendship at first, only equating it to a simple partnership for Toppat operations. and then when Wilford dies and Terrence is upheld next for the throne, I feel like there's at least a few group of toppats who wouldn't respect her or see her as worthy enough. And that...... that kind of infuriates Reg c cuz HEY that gal right there is trying her best she is kind and sweet and actually *cares* about everyone's safety happiness and more and uhm Reg c kinda realizes he likes her more than he thought. Aughhh he'd be so loyal to her side as her right hand dude. Maybe then this is where they start their romance cuz welp might as well. Idk who confesses or if there even is one, but to me they just slowly build up on the romantic gestures for eachother the closer they are till they don't even realize they're practically dating at this point

--which contrasts reginald bronzepants being absolutely smithen at first sight and being absolutely hammy and leaving gigantic romantic gifts to woe terrence over

In both scenarios Terrence Sweetheart always just takes it so casually and happily too.

I think she plays with his mustache and kisses him on his cheek even when he's being a posh jerk. and then it makes him embarrassed. i kinda lost track of what im talking abt--- I think Terrence Sweetheart doesn't have any specific way of falling in love, she's usually just happy to be with people. And doing romance is as simple to her as just being invited to tea. So yeah if Reg c just asked or if they transitioned into romance casually Terrence Sweetheart will always be very accepting of it

AUGHHHHHH THEYRE SO BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER FUCKKKKKKKKK

Literally tho reginald c will just accidentally and slowly fall in love with someone and then 10 years later they realize theyre married to each other

He's like a wet cat who used to be a feral kitten that got bullied by adult strays and so now hes prone to biting and hissing people that take care of him. To Me

God Sweetheartt shes just so genuinely kind and nice in a way that is soooooo fucking crazy i love her so mach

[slothgiirl]

the trashpile: dympna devers

reader runs into dymphna while picking up some groceries. is cleaning out her dead alcoholic fathers place (who probs did drugs too,,mb?). she gets annoyed and snaps at him and he thinks its hot bc everyone else just does what he wants them too

reader takes a walk pretty late because shes sad that her dad died and even tho they had no relationship its like now theres no way he’ll get better and be a dad, hes just gone. dymphna pulls up in his car, tells her to get in, he’ll drive her back. she doesnt want to. he gets out of the car, leaving it running and talks her into taking a ride with her. (he was trying to be friendly in his own obnoxious grandiose way) they end up parking and drinking together and then they fuck. he complains shes prissy bc uni. reader comments uni is just fucking and going to class for exams. “maybe i shouldve gone to uni then?”

reader starts taking her dads stuff to donation centers. breaks apart the table and tries to figure out if she should just leave it on the curb or take it all the way there. takes a break outside, trying to work through the complicated emotions she has over his death. dymphna spots her and is like i can call arm to help u and shes all like oh why dont u just help urself, thinking hes sort of spoiled in the same way the posh girls at her boarding school were even though hes a pretty trashy wanna be gangster. hes all “id help with the right incentive” she tells him to fuck off but ends up blowing him (and getting him to help).

dymphna takes reader to bar. they play pool and he messes with her. reader notices ppl r looking at her and the way they treat him and she wasnt born yesterday like she knows what it means to be a devers but idk shes into his confident aggression. they have drinks and dymphna ditches arm to go fuck the reader back at his. readers like um dont ditch ur friend? but lets it go quick. wakes up alone and his sisters r like “u came out of nowhere” being bitchy and sussing reader out

reader runs into arm and his family. is not surprised his son is on the spectrum and offers to have her mom write a letter of recommendation so she can get the job at the school in Cork. “ur dymphna’s woman.” “hardly, think i'd remember agreeing to that” 

dymphna shows up at her house late at night and makes a fuss until she opens up. they fuck and he learns she handles customer complaints for some websites (compsci major) reader tries to make appointment to sell house but ends up delaying (still mourning her loss). dymphna takes her out for breakfast. 

reader wakes up at his house. this time dymphna is there and reader complains about the mold in the bathroom. they all give her shit for it and dymphna tells arm to figure that out but readers all no dont- charlie asks if its true she went to uni and reader says yeah, it was a bitch but i finished as dymphna pulls her onto his lap to watch tv. she means to get up and leave but feels comfortable and realizes she has a lot of feelings for him

theres a party at the devers and reader and charlie find a corner and nurse a beer while charlie wonders if she might go to uni. reader goes to get another drink and sees dymphna and his uncle doing coke. reader passes on the coke (not stupid). dymphna makes introductions and his uncle comments its probably best she doesnt do coke (look at ursula) reader snaps that its not anyones fault and his uncle is like uve got lip (control ur woman) and dymphna tells her to shut the fuck up yeah babe? reader gets annoyed and goes to bed (when she should just leave) 

reluctantly cleans the bathroom bc fuck shes not using anything when she can see mold and grime built up (scale i think its called on tile?). complains to dymphna that hes a big fish small pond but still takes his uncles shit and dymphna yells at her getting pissed off that she doesnt understand how business is done. throw things at each other and fuck. after he talks about family and stuff (heavy implication he wants her to be his wife) ill take care of u. reader: i make 80k i dont need anyone

theres some party where ppl get pissed drunk. reader doesnt like dymphna getting high and drunk. it reminds her of her father only her dad got comatose and dymphna gets short tempered and somehow even more wild. charlie and reader hide out in her room. charlie mentions sooner or later he’ll come looking for her and readers like ill kick his arse. charlie laughs and asks if reader will help her with her schoolwork. totally. charlie: i thought u were leaving tho reader: idk anymore. finnigan stumbles in and reader tells charlie to go and throws a bottle at the man but misses. he pins her down on the bed but she manages to grab the lamp and smash it on his head. reader is shaking when dymphna comes in to see what the fuck is going on. reader is like “help me take care of this” he agrees. (shes way more hardcore and cool than he is)

reader has arm and dymphna make it look like finnigan was drunk and drove himself off a cliff. arm drives them back into town. dymphna holds reader close. “we take care of each other” “yeah” 

notes: charlie goes to uni and breaks the cycle. reader and dymphna have their weird toxic codependent relationship and reader eventually takes over the family business

[gokartkid]

vampire au, ur choice in pairing<3

making it galex!

george is like, a real proper vampire. going to the monthly meetings, signed up to the local blood donation facilities, and a sire family that goes back into the centuries kind of proper vampire. he's young in vampire terms (like, a century) compared to lewis for instance or toto who goes WAY back (he hasn't said specifically but they all think original romanian transylvania. that would explain why he cant get rid of the accent)

alex is new. like, last week new. he was turned accidentally, george thinks, at least from what he told him over a pint. he'd been making out with this guy at a club, very normal (he stresses this) when they went into an alleyway outside (alex says this very normally and calmly, like this is something he does all the time. George is not homophobic, but he is just a bit of a prude still and he also tries to be normal. fails!) and then what was a harmless bit of necking turned into alex getting his blood sucked out of him. in his haze, he does remember hearing the other guy panicking, then being forced to drink something that was gross and delicious all at the same time. then, the next day, he got picked up by the magic part of the police dept. because the guys at the pub didn't really like having a half dead body on the ground outside.

they try and figure out who turned him, but can't work it out beyond alex's grand sire DEFINITELY being red bull affiliated. (the vampires have like. idk. family clan loyalties) but the mercedes lot are who he gets referred to first just because red bull can be a bit. tougher to work with, and Toto's got a finger in every pie. while they're doing this, alex is like dragging george kicking and screaming into the 21st century.

"you're not joking around with me right now." alex is looking at him, eyebrows raised. His glass is raised halfway to his mouth. the condensation from the beer is leaking onto his hand and pooling around his fingers. "what? no why?" george genuinely looks baffled, as if he hasn't just said the most insane sentence alex has ever heard. "you're saying-" alex puts down the glass, his hands on the table. he needs to stress every word, "-you're actually saying that you had a chat with anne boleyn before she had her head cut off and offered to make her a vampire." "well," george looks a bit embarassed now. he starts adjusting his cufflinks, probably to try and look cool and collected and aloof. alex has seen him do it about 50 times every time they've met up now though, so it has lost its original charm. "-i mean, yes, i was there, and i thought she might like a bit of help. it was rather a sticky situation you know, a lot of emotions running high." "and she said no?" he can't imagine george, posh george in the armani sweater, wearing ray bans sunglasses who's practically addicted to having a cuppa of tea in the morning as living in the middle ages. "it wasn't really her thing mate," george shrugs, "bit torn up still about the whole thing if im honest. always thought henry the 8th was naff after that."

alex is flatting with charles also, who is in my mind a cursebreaker sorry @tetrapod7 stealing ur scholarship.... blatant theft, anyway he comes back after Vampire Orientation (this is like a week of being at totos creepy mansion that he does vampire business in and basically being taught how to be normal and signing a bunch of forms declaring himself to the govt) and charles is all, alexander I thought you were dead, like really, dead, and you come back looking fine?! except he takes a closer look and then is like ahh. i was not far off mate, you are looking good but you are definitely dead. and alex is like yeah they had to teach me all the vampire skills. and charles is like well are you good at being a vampire now? and alex is like "um, well, probably going to have to get better really fast but I definitely won't kill people. By the way, do you think its semi-incestuous if you fuck another vampire who you're maybe like, sharing a grand-sire with. i don't really understand if its capital F family that they were going on about, or just like." waves his hands "metaphorical brothers in arms." (at this point he doesn't know who his grand sire is. so theres a conflict. BUT IT IS NOT. INCESTUOUS. but its funny!?)

bonus: the first time they have sex alex like tries to go down on george but he doesnt realise he's hungry (my lore ur teeth are like. retractable. he doesn't realise they come out spiky when ur a bit peckish) and george yelps and is like "teeth! teeth teeth teeth." and alex is like ooh fuck whoops sorry. and they have a snack break

[ravenintraining]

MAG 1- Anglerfish

I hate hearing the first episodes of anything over again because the voices lack all of the personality they grow into over time. Especially this posh prick I'm hearing right now.(/j)

(analysis under cut so i don't feel bad)

Anyways, let's get down to business.

I've spent many of the last few weeks trying to visualize the layout of the Archives(for fic writing purposes), and the part where he can see thousands just from where he's sitting (in a room with a door separating it from the rest of the area, as is mentioned later) really throws all of that off. I like to think he saw a bunch of boxes full of papers and assumed those were statements, even though in the event that his predecessor wasn't an eldritch horror they're probably be print-offs from seminars or audit logs or literally anything else. In my head all of them are actually mounds of scrap paper from a local school so that Elias has to deal with the information overload of creative writing classes.

"so the only thing in most of the files are the statements themselves" this is REALLY outing Jon for not understanding what an Archive does. Why, pray tell, would the research be down in long-term storage? When you have a whole section of this Institute called RESEARCH DIVISION? Obviously they'd keep their OWN RECORDS UP THERE. Probably digitized by now because you all had your own computers. Give me a BREAK.

"he's not likely to contribute anything but deh-LAYS >://" i think you should re-adjust that stick up your ass it's starting to effect your Brain. you've known this dude for all of an hour tops calm your tits. Technically speaking so far the only one that's delayed you was your inability to record something digitally and so it's You who is currently delaying the Archives. Chomp my dick loserboy.

Just remembered that these recordings are available to the public. Dog no college student gives a shit about you and your problems they're just gonna make fun of you on the internet. Actually I think a really funny socmed au could come out of the twitter commentary of someone reading the statements from the magnus institute bc the transcriber drops his drama ALL OVER them.

they must have gotten SO many statements in 2012. I mean, people thought the world was going to end. This of course is the largest part behind why I think the Extinction isn't real and is just a version of the End, because it would have manifested in either 1999 or 2012 when everyone was so worried the world would end. (which also, sidenote, i think could have been perfect explanations of end rituals that failed. i think end avatars would 100% try at least a few times)

sorry I haven't even gotten to the statement yet. idk this one really isnt even that interesting? like oooo dude trips on brick path, stranger ignores that he hurt himself and wants to bum a cigarette. i think it would be better if the anglerfish like actually got its hand(s?) on him and then he got away instead bc without that the only scary part is the implications the episode name gives you. it leads to a great reveal of what happened to the victims later on in the melanie statement (stapling her skin back on) but without that context it's just a dude who's talking to you without opening his mouth.

"el oh el" i bet tim and sasha took the tape after he recorded it just to hear how jon would pronounce 'lol.' i only think that bc that's what I would do.

it is interesting that the body doesnt show up in the images though. like i figured considering the way the stranger loves manipulating digital tech that it would get a kick out of the picture showing the guy just floating there boreing its eyes into your skull. like i get it was meant to be the "light" of the anglerfish creating the illusion of a harmless creature that then turns out to not be there but come onnnn is that Really a stranger thing to do. could be so much better. the stranger should get a suggestion box i have some thoughts.

okay that's all folks. catch you tomorrow for the same shenanigans

[baekhvuns]

Bestie I didn't even watch that Arsenal x Man City game, but London is still red, Arsenal is 1st 🤗 you shouldn't have laughed at me too much. Kane in Bayern? Lmao I mean you're right, he's not gonna get anything with Tottenham kqjsjajsjsjwjdhhwhwjw. Did Jongho go and see their game btw?

Aston Villa who hehehe. There are so many London clubs though it's crazy! That's why I have two fave clubs, one that gives me joy (though not recently) pretty often and another which is 📈📉📈📉 😭 best believe I was in shambles when Arsenal and Madrid played together. Maybe it's good Arsenal is out ot CL. Yeah Liverpool sadly...💀 I like Man Utd too, never cared for City and never will jsjajshsjissbaahhshsje

Omfg you're right Hwa at the pop up was giving model, brand ambassador 😭

That selfie sign?! Kpop stans can't be normal. Also how do some people have the time to watermark and post their stuff during the concert?! Have some fun??? Unless it's the serial concert goers, they don't care anymore, just need some clout on the bird app

LSM created SM and he might destroy it now with all the lawsuits, I mean... fair tbh, except he needs to be in jail 🔫 not to mention Kakao is at the scene of the crime as well, guess they're a better option than Hybe tho. The fucking video they released??? This is war for real

I'm so sorry Baek idk why artists are allergic to Vancouver? When I saw Tamino's Canada dates I was like "omg what a coincidence, what if he comes to Baek City" but alas :/

Pon de Replay what an icon. I don't think I genuinely know any ASAP song, but it's because I don't know most mainstream songs, boomer <3 so, sorry to that man. I don't think Riri's tickets were that expensive, also her last tour was 2000 years ago 😭 speaking of Bey, she's like the opposite of Rihanna. Don't really vibe with her music, but she can put on an amazing and well-produced show

I honestly get seeing idols around, because I literally saw some ex-Wanna One members in a cafe two days ago ❤ but chasing them or purposely going to places you can spot them 🔪 (giving Oil London stalking Jimin vibes)

I eat tteokbokki pretty regularly, so it wasn't that much of a difference, they were semi-spicy, but good. Korean food is spicier than Japanese, but I still need more heat sometimes 🔥

A lot of people dislike season 4 of You, but it's funny cause it's all London and posh Brits, absolutely insufferable lmao. The tone is different, but as a whodunnit fan I ate it up! I'm looking forward to part 2, because it looks a bit more interesting.

Wish we looked that cute

Ah that's not the mushroom head I dislike, he's cute, but I was thinking of this still adorable, because it's Hwa...

M🍙pe what is this behaviour oeiwhisjswjjw tbh I hate this type of magicians, but come on. Unless it was all scripted he needs to smile a little

I was about to send you that white shirt Hwa video, amazing how I generally don't care for shirts or suits, but when it's Seonghwa......

I'm devastated Baeksy! No more "Ddeong-ppear" no more wholesome, unhinged, sweet and random stories and selfies 🤧🤧🤧🤧 I sincerely believe some idols are sad Universe is gone as well. Nooooo leave Bubble alone at least. Devastation, head in hands etc...

Fencing makes you rich??? Idk about that I trained in a shitty community centre. Ok trained is a big word, I did it for a few months only, because it was the closest thing I could get to sword fighting 😭

Oh god, see I'd be happy to see the Cursed Child movie, but anything connected to R*wl*ng is trash to me now </3 ruined everything for me, that stupid bitch

Hello he's so silly and let me lint roll you sir

Brb, breaking into that store

What would you do if you were stuck in a lift with this guy?

I found this account... accidentally and Hwa is all over it 😭 not really into armpits, but Hwapits... maybe, the agenda is really strong - DV 💖

hello! ITS ON SIGHT ANON ON SIGHT 🔫

Bestie I didn't even watch that Arsenal x Man City game, but London is still red, Arsenal is 1st 🤗 you shouldn't have laughed at me too much. Kane in Bayern? Lmao I mean you're right, he's not gonna get anything with Tottenham kqjsjajsjsjwjdhhwhwjw. Did Jongho go and see their game btw?

u waited till u SQW THE CHANGE AND THEN CAME BACK HERE TO SAY THIS 🔫🔫 tbh i be cursing man city bc they didn’t let alvarez play <3 MADE A LITTLE CHART FOR ARSENALS SHIT STREAKING I AM DETERMINED THAT PEP WILL PLAY HIS WAY INTO THOSE 2 POINTS no but srs this is actually shit 😭😭 not even as a rival but what is this 😭😭😭

koreans and their spurs relationship will never disappoint 😭😭 at least they won!

Aston Villa who hehehe. There are so many London clubs though it's crazy! That's why I have two fave clubs, one that gives me joy (though not recently) pretty often and another which is 📈📉📈📉 😭 best believe I was in shambles when Arsenal and Madrid played together. Maybe it's good Arsenal is out ot CL. Yeah Liverpool sadly...💀 I like Man Utd too, never cared for City and never will jsjajshsjissbaahhshsje

no bc they won against spurs im not HEARING ANYTHING 🤚🏻 the only good player they got is emi martinez <3 NOO THERE ARE SO MANY AND FOR WHAT WHY DO U GOT A LEEDS? FULHAM? WHO ASKED 🔫 no bc it’s the same for me, tho barca doesn’t disappoint THEYRE doing quite good atm, psg…at least they won 😭😭 see ARSENAL PLAYS SHIT, it would’ve been embarrassing,, saw the liverpool v madrid game today, why do madrid perform better in champions league than in la liga 😭😭

Omfg you're right Hwa at the pop up was giving model, brand ambassador 😭 /// That selfie sign?! Kpop stans can't be normal. Also how do some people have the time to watermark and post their stuff during the concert?! Have some fun??? Unless it's the serial concert goers, they don't care anymore, just need some clout on the bird app

WASNT HE! EXACTLY! 😭😭 the closest we’ll get to it for now,, the self promo i respect it bUT how about we all go for having fun! and music! rather than wanting a yn moment! NOOO UR RIGHT HOW DO THE FANSITES DO THAT SO FAST like do ur even enjoy the concert atp bc half the time ur on the camera and then u edit it on ur laptop 😭😭

LSM created SM and he might destroy it now with all the lawsuits, I mean... fair tbh, except he needs to be in jail 🔫 not to mention Kakao is at the scene of the crime as well, guess they're a better option than Hybe tho. The fucking video they released??? This is war for real

bestie…i have absolutely no words this is,, can we even enjoy music now with this looming issue of this company possibly disbanding everyone sm artists at least go to south america, vancouver, europe sometimes and south east asia now with them taking over we’re only getting usa and a toronto tour from now on AND AT LEAST SM’S TICKETS WERE A LITTLE CHEAP BUT THIS 😭😭😭 GONNA BE A NIGHTMARE 😭😭😭 but they’re already doing very well??? 😭😭 need u to visit hybe and have some words with them 🤨 taking credit for their success ofc

I'm so sorry Baek idk why artists are allergic to Vancouver? When I saw Tamino's Canada dates I was like "omg what a coincidence, what if he comes to Baek City" but alas :/

it’s never my turn to be happy never

Pon de Replay what an icon. I don't think I genuinely know any ASAP song, but it's because I don't know most mainstream songs, boomer <3 so, sorry to that man. I don't think Riri's tickets were that expensive, also her last tour was 2000 years ago 😭 speaking of Bey, she's like the opposite of Rihanna. Don't really vibe with her music, but she can put on an amazing and well-produced show

I KNEW SHE CHANGED WHEN SHE DIDNT INCLUDE PON DE REPLAY IN HER TRACKLIST, SHE DID KISS IT BETTER BUT NOT THAT SONG??? not the same girlie i tell u,, every ask im reminded ur a boomer <3 with inflation i just know they’d reach 1K $$ i like beyonce’s music that’s like title track worthy,, crazy in love is def top tier,, she really does! that dubai (?) one was crazy!

I honestly get seeing idols around, because I literally saw some ex-Wanna One members in a cafe two days ago ❤ but chasing them or purposely going to places you can spot them 🔪 (giving Oil London stalking Jimin vibes) /// I eat tteokbokki pretty regularly, so it wasn't that much of a difference, they were semi-spicy, but good. Korean food is spicier than Japanese, but I still need more heat sometimes 🔥

now.. 😭😭😭 this is pretty uncomfy 😭😭 oooo no way!!! who were they? was it mr ong bc im about to ask u to yell @ him for an album,, AHHHH hope u ate loads AND DRANK WATER SO UR BLOOD IS NOT JUST TTEOKBOKKI 🔫🔫

A lot of people dislike season 4 of You, but it's funny cause it's all London and posh Brits, absolutely insufferable lmao. The tone is different, but as a whodunnit fan I ate it up! I'm looking forward to part 2, because it looks a bit more interesting.

AHHHH the jokes must be more for the uk-ers than for the americans, no wonder they dislike it 😭😭 UR RIGHT THAT TROPE IS ALWAYS GOOD, idk if u have watched it but love wedding repeat is a must!! the classic british romcom with an EXTRA amount of comedy and chaos very exquisitely filmed in italy and circling around a wedding! the way i laughed during the movie but then again i laugh at anything but this was really good! 100% rec the low ratings do NOT DO IT JUSTICE AT ALL!

me 2 minutes into this movie actually

Wish we looked that cute /// Ah that's not the mushroom head I dislike, he's cute, but I was thinking of this still adorable, because it's Hwa...

seonghwa needs to be sponsernd by pantene bc that hair volume is insane,, HEY THATS NOT THAT BAD ANON 🔫🔫

M🍙pe what is this behaviour oeiwhisjswjjw tbh I hate this type of magicians, but come on. Unless it was all scripted he needs to smile a little /// I was about to send you that white shirt Hwa video, amazing how I generally don't care for shirts or suits, but when it's Seonghwa......

no yeah they can be a little annoying but every psg player at the party was all funsies with him but he’s a haha, strange lil guy,, has to be the only one hA HA. RHWKHDKW BUT WHEJ ITS SEONGHWA,, I MUST SAY I AM A SUCKER FOR SUITS ON MEN AND SEONGHWA IS ON TOP OF THE LIST FBWKDHWK what the fuck

I'm devastated Baeksy! No more "Ddeong-ppear" no more wholesome, unhinged, sweet and random stories and selfies 🤧🤧🤧🤧 I sincerely believe some idols are sad Universe is gone as well. Nooooo leave Bubble alone at least. Devastation, head in hands etc...

Fencing makes you rich??? Idk about that I trained in a shitty community centre. Ok trained is a big word, I did it for a few months only, because it was the closest thing I could get to sword fighting 😭

THE WAY THEYRE ALL SO DRAMATIC AND CONSTANTLY LEAVING MESSAGES 😭😭😭no more internet breaking selfies from them all,, no yeah i bet they’re pretty mad about it too bc now they gotta move to bubble and HYBE WANTS TO MERGE IT 🔫🔫🔫 ur are rich. coNVINCED ACTUALLY! WITH THE AMOUNT OF JOBS U HAD BESTIE UR ROLLING IN THE POUNDS or € whichever one u use <3

Oh god, see I'd be happy to see the Cursed Child movie, but anything connected to R*wl*ng is trash to me now </3 ruined everything for me, that stupid bitch /// Hello he's so silly and let me lint roll you sir

no bc i don’t even care what she says im just here for the movies and the cast 😭🤚🏻want to feel nostalgic and hear the hogwarts ost’s in the theatres bc i kNOW ITS GOING TO BREAK US ALL,,, u know some times seonghwa acts like he’s straight out of the 90’s grease and is named soda pop

Brb, breaking into that store /// What would you do if you were stuck in a lift with this guy? /// I found this account... accidentally and Hwa is all over it 😭 not really into armpits, but Hwapits... maybe, the agenda is really strong - DV 💖

ANOM TAKE THE PINK ONE IM HUNTING FOR THE WHITE ONE,, see now, the first thing my mind went to after seeing that lift video is that one model hwa scene <3 will log out now! NOT INTO ARMPITS BUT WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE USE TO GEY THEM SO SMOOTH WHAT THE FUCK

ur sign to read model hwa

ANONFBJQHDKWHDKW that was me actually i took a flight to barcelona

not this guy acting like he’s in love with him AFTER ALMOST ENDING HIS LIFE FOR OVER A DECADE

i have to share this bc i spent the last hour laughing at this with tears streaming down my face

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

READ NEXT PART

[anonair]

I have an idea if you'd be so kind as to write it for me as a request? (I feel really posh like Elijah 😅) but basically its set somewhere within the first half of season 3 (because that's all I've watched so far) where Damon is in love with Elena and knows he can't have her/she doesn't feel the same and Damon starts dating the reader as a rebound but slowly falls for her. Maybe she finds out and gets really pissed at him but forgives him anyway? Maybe some angsty smut? Idk, I'll let it up to you. Thank you!

𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞- 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, just sadness.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Anon

“Let’s face it, Damon. You don’t want her, you want Elena. It isn’t fair that you keep stringing her along” Caroline stated, giving all of her attitude to Damon. She was tired of the Salvatore’s thinking they could get everyone and have anyone they wanted just because they were hot. So, there she goes putting him in his place. Unfortunately for you, you happened to overhear the conversation being held in the mystic grill.

“Is that true?” You spoke, trying your best to keep your composure. Your heart felt as if a weight was dropped onto it and it was sinking slowly down to your stomach. You swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot in your throat that had quickly formed after hearing the words that spewed out of Caroline’s mouth. For some reason, your intuition was telling you to believe her.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Damon, it was that you knew the way he looked at Elena. Nobody, not even you, could make his eyes sparkle like that. It was hard to believe that Damon Salvatore could actually feel butterflies in his stomach, but anytime Elena was around, you knew he got those emotions. You knew it all too well because that was how you felt about him.

You waited a couple of seconds, allowing him time to talk, but before you could hear an answer you rushed out of the mystic grill. You didn’t want to risk the chance of everyone in the room seeing you crying. You took a deep breath of fresh air before feeling the tears pool up in your eyes. quickly after, you could hear the door open behind you. In hopes that you could escape humiliation, you started walking away from the entrance. You hoped to get lost in the crowd of people who were casually strolling the streets. However, it didn’t work.

“Wait, y/n, come back!” Damon shouted to you, triggering you more. At this point, you were sobbing and the streets of mystic falls grew blurry. Damon caught up to you, tugging your shoulder and swinging you back around. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back. You just sat there and sobbed into his chest on the sidewalk. “please stop crying.” He tried to cheer you up, but it wasn’t working.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” you tried to pull the words out of him “Damon, please” you begged.

“I can’t.” He said, looking down into your eyes. His piercing blue eyes started softening. You’d always joked and tell him he had soft, big cat eyes, but at this moment you wanted to forget anything you have ever told him. You wished you never fell for him. You knew from the beginning he would be trouble, but just didn’t know how much trouble. “I do love Elena.” He spoke.

The words that came out of his mouth were like knives stabbing you deeper and deeper into your heart. The only emotion other than sadness that you felt was regret. You regret letting him turn you into a vampire, you regret falling for his eternal love bullshit. That’s what it was to you now; bullshit. You pushed him off of you, before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Damon didn’t follow behind you, leaving you to feel even more heartbroken. You soon learned you had to get comfortable with being alone again, as he wouldn’t be coming back.

You found your way back into your apartment about a 20-minute walk and cry. You made a beeline for the bathroom, opening the door and walking in slowly. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes puffy and red from crying so much. The tears were constantly flowing at this point; there was no stopping them. You turned on the cold water of the sink and let it run for a second before watching it create a small puddle in your hands. You washed the water over your face, trying to control your breathing at the same time. You turned the water off, looking over at the shower and walking over to turn it on.

You watched as the water ran down before heading a knock at the door. You stepped away from the shower quickly before opening the front door to see Damon standing there. He looked hopeless. “Please, listen to me I’m sorry,” he said. You closed the door on his face, walking back over to the shower and turning it off- you figured it would be a while before you got to get in.

“Come in.” You told him as you walked back to your living room. Damon opened the door slowly, walking over to where you were at. “You don’t understand, y/n.” He said. “Damon, I don’t want to hear what you have to say right now, but I’m going to try and listen. So, just spit it out already.” You sighed, throwing your body onto the couch.

“Yes, I love Elena.” He said, “there is no denying that and I know that hurts to hear, but it is the truth.” He walked over, sitting down beside you.

“But you bring me a type of joy I’ve never felt before. You make this dead vampire feel alive. I was too blind to see it before, but watching you leave me today brought emotions that I never knew I had out.” He admitted to you. You resisted the urge to smile at the comforting words because your heart was still aching. “Damon, but that doesn’t mean I’m the one for you. I don’t want to be in this relationship knowing I’m second to her because she isn’t showing interest in you.” You sighed.

All your life you made decisions based on how you felt, but not what you needed. It didn’t always work out and this time, you knew you needed to choose yourself. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” You stated before getting up from the couch. “I’m choosing me.” You said before letting your tears flow. You could see Damon grow saddened, but you knew it was what needed to be done.

AN: y’all deserved better so I made y’all choose you (:

[mable-stitchpunk]

(Quick note:I am not 100% on FNAF lore here so please correct me if I said something wrong)

One of the many things I hate about Security Breach is the Blob,it existence is already a giant can of worms (idk if they even gonna explain it in the DLC) but what really frustrates me is it's design

The animatronics masks that they choosed are so questionable,the only one that make sense is Puppet since they were in the previous pizzaria location which was hiding underground in the Pizzaplex,the rest of the animatronics's head are confusing,Og!Bonnie and Og!Chica are impossible since the two of them where destroyed by William in the "follow me" minigame and are in the FNAF 1 location far away from the Pizzaplex,Mangle is also impossible since the Fazbear frights location was burned and again said location is far away from the Pizzaplex,and Funtime Freddy and Circus Baby are again impossible since their body parts are in the scooping room where the location is far away from the Pizzaplex

If I have to change the blob's entire design then I would remove the five animatronics's head mentioned and replace them with either the Rockstars or the Mediocre Melodies or the Scarps or the Posh animatronics

I hope that make sense

Oh, no, you absolutely do.

In fact, I don't think the Blob was the original plan at all. Because he doesn't match his teaser from the Princess Quest minigame.

From the limbs and characters and design, to the story context and the importance of Princess Quest to SB, I think it's clear that this amalgam WAS supposed to be the Blob... So why was it changed?

Well, either they carved so much out of the story that they took the easy route and worked in a half-hearted throwback to FFPS to hide behind cheap lore bait and say it's a story.

Or, and I think more likely, they got story mandates somewhere in production that suddenly decided that William Afton had to appear as Springtrap, to hammer in the point that he 'always comes back' by having him return in his hashtag iconic rabbit design (that looks nothing like his last two rabbit designs).

And then they just worked in the Blob because it was there.

The Blob has no story presence. No identity. No reason for being there beyond just being there. It doesn't even get a reveal good enough to creep people out. It is a total waste. Just a hunk of lame callbacks trying to raise the animatronic count up.

...And the funny thing is... I still stand by the fact that one change could've suddenly and violently made The Blob's impact be so much greater. One change could've absolutely tore apart FNAF's storyline and made it so much more painful and agonizing.

Gregory sees a CINEMATIC glimpse of The Blob before he comes into the office, but it doesn't make its full introduction until later into the Burntrap boss fight... A fight that I imagine would be more like GoldenDiamond's Alternate Burntrap fight (check it out).

There is a tape player on the desk, but it doesn't come on until a cinematic starting the final phase of the boss fight. It starts playing through Henry's final tape at the end of FFPS when suddenly a tentacle breaks through the ceiling and crushes the tape player, then turns on Gregory.

Now Gregory can see the Blob on the cameras, slowly moving in towards the office... and while it does, we start hearing more of Henry's tape playing, but no longer from the tape player. It is echoed from everywhere, following the metal tentacles, and the longer the boss fight goes on, the more distorted it becomes.

Henry's words start getting replaced and confused. Henry starts repeating lines that other animatronics have said. Henry starts pleading for Charlie to open the door so he can come in.

The Blob is Henry. In his attempt to end everything, he himself has become a hulking manifestation of his guilt. He cannot control himself, he cannot rationalize his actions. In a twist of fate, Henry has become something much more dangerous than Afton.

And when the Blob finally finished what remains of Afton after the fire, it isn't a victory. The audience is just left with the looming horror that comes with the realization of what this means. Everyone's free, but Henry's still here, keeping it alive. His own wound bleeding out onto others. He's now the poison infecting Freddy's.

...But that's just my thoughts! I mean, just because I like those big emotional feels and story payoffs doesn't mean everybody does. ;)

[steelycunt]

I remember you doing a list of popular Remus headcanons you disagreed with/unpopular Remus headcanons that I really enjoyed so I was wondering if you could do the same for Sirius (who I know is not *quite* your terrible wonderful blorbo man in the same way but whom I think you get dead-on)

ooh hi!! certainly!! thank u!! as u say i don't claim to know sirius black personally as i do remus lupin but i do spend a lot of time in his head when writing so!! like with the remus post, i dont really think my sirius hcs are particularly unique/out there, rather there are just a couple common sirius hcs that im not a fan of. under the cut again!!

starting with stuff i don't like: this common thing now of portraying sirius as some excitable, annoying idiot who needs to copy other people's essays, contrasted by a remus who seems perpetually tired of/irritated by him. i dont know why this has arisen (yes i do: mischaracterisation via the incorrect quote format...) but yeah i hate it. it makes no sense. he's canonically extremely intelligent, his lack of study is down to not needing to study rather than being thick lol. emotionally when it comes to relationships he can be dumb / idiotic / oblivious whatever but he's not a ditz.

thing i do love: its tiny and silly but any mention of sirius' posh accent is <33 i enjoy leaning into that this guy speaks like the queen he speaks like an old-fashioned british radio presenter he can use all the slang he wants its still coming out in an RP accent babs! extra: french sirius! loml have yet to explore his true frenchness its on my list <3

very strong opinions on what music he listened to which i have discussed before in answer to this ask but the long and short of it: personally do not think he would have listened to queen i know that is a popular headcanon but it confuses me a little!! also same as remus he's soo pretentious abt that stuff they're the bitchiest little couple they think theyre soo cultured and sophisticated they're really annoying together actually

again another dumb small thing but i like writing sirius as left-handed. idk. feels like it makes sense though i also like giving this hc to regulus instead but. just plays into the odd one out sort of position he has in the black family i can imagine governesses forcing him to write with his right.

have ALSO talked about this before but...i do not hc him as ever playing on the quidditch team. that posh little dandy cunt was not getting up with james at 5am to train in the mud on a january morning it is not an activity he would have enjoyed it never happened sorry xx also on the topic!! insanely muscular sirius? why! no! when! he is not thin the way remus is thin (twig u can snap in half no muscles brittle little matchstick boy) and hes probably a bit leaner but like...especially as a teenager he was not a bodybuilder he was just pretty and well-proportioned why would he have a six pack at fifteen.

beginning to realise this is just me repeating old things ive said but...again...love-loyal sirius. not at all a dealbreaker i will both read and write a sluttier sirius but...love-loyal sirius fics ARE always my favourite simply because he IS loyal like a dog he WAS put there to obsess over remus thats his whole job and purpose and i enjoy watching him do that <3

he will always have one gay little earring there is actually nothing you can do about that

people should let him be a tosser more. he was a fucking arse when he was a teenager he was angry and also he had the capacity to be a bit cruel. its okay to make him do things that are a bit wrong/unlikeable they are characters and more than than they are often teenage characters. does anyone have a perfect moral compass as a teenager? or ever, really?

NEARLY FORGOT AUROR SIRIUS HAHAHA yeah i HATE auror sirius!! sirius was not a cop not once not ever especially not for a goverment that a) did not recognise his boyfriend as a human being and b) terrorised his godson!! never happened he was never a cop and also remus never married a cop either!!

he was a little bit in love with james and it wasnt strictly platonic its about time we all get to grips with that

immediately want to disclose that this is not my own headcanon at all but the hc in gamesformay's atyd that sirius (and much of the black family) had haemophilia as a result of all the inbreeding is incredibly clever imo...especially what the fic then does with snape and the sectumsempra spell i just think that was a brilliant hc in that fic!!

i always imagine him being unexpectedly sentimental. like he will keep little things and mementos and worthless stuff that you would not expect him to because of its sentimental value. he kept lots of the notes remus passed him in class and the eye for that sort of thing also made him a surprisingly good gift giver.

he's neater than remus. his handwriting is all ridiculously elegant cursive and but he's also tidier. he would have been reprimanded for having a messy room as a kid and even if he starts rebelling with his bedroom decor as a teen he never quite shakes the need to fold his shirts etc.

as an adult he can cook!! which is just as well because remus cant for shit its embarrassing actually he's soo terrible. however, on the other hand, sirius cannot swim!!

LAST point gosh im so sorry can you tell i have a day off today but: that dumb fucking line jkr put in about 'ooo thats when sirius had short hair!!1!!' she is a fucking liar and that never happened. he never had short hair idk if he had to cut it during the first war but by choice he NEVER had short hair she doesnt know what she's talking about.

SO fucking sorry about how long that was!! its all i got off the top of my head but yeah!! i feel like this was longer than my remus post this guy is actually insane!! beloved mutuals who are better acquainted with sirius than i...feel free to correct me/add on any thoughts u have <33

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[sunleaffe]

the whole guizhong reincarnation thing with ningguang really has me thinking and honestly it makes me lean towards the ningguang and zhongli pairing a lot. now im not the biggest fan of zhongli’s story (in terms of his current whereabouts and choices) BUT the idea of him leaving li yue in charge of his dead wife’s reincarnation scratches a particular itch in my brain.

theres a lot that kind of points to the theory of reincarnation with ningguang and some of the more notable ones that ive noticed are listed below. a spoiler warning is in effect so scroll at your own risk!

- she is extremely powerful for a geo user. a lot of geo character abilities revolve around construction (hence geo construction inc. being a meme), but this could fit in thematically of being a fallen god that is rebuilding what was lost to her. her shield (?) ability is different than other geo characters. zhongli literally creates a pillar, lumine/aether build...a more stout pillar, and albedo has a lotus elevator lol. but ningguangs is more functioning as a wall of protection while also not exactly being physical per say. it looks more like a transparent scroll when unrolled, sort of like transluscent magic at play.

- in the fight against osial, ningguang uses a lot of magic that does not look elemental based lol. it just looks like...pure magic. i wonder where she picked that up or if shes just naturally gifted in channeling magic like that. there were lots of symbols that did not look geo related in many of the cutscenes. but thats just my observation. 

- her ascension materials include glaze lillies which we all know zhongli will NOT shut up about. even if current glaze lillies aren’t the “real deal” as zhongli puts it, having them be her ascension materials is a big deal. im not entirely sure about the entire story revolving around them but i believe they carry a symbolic meaning of the wishes of people (i remember lumine had to sing to one to harvest it correctly or something). it seems to bear a lot of importance to zhongli and his past, and i may be remembering this incorrectly/it may be a fanmade fact but i believe rex lapis and guizhong led their people through fields of glaze lillies during the archon war. plus you can find all sorts of fanart of zhongli standing in a field of them lol.

- ningguang mentions having a dream where rex lapis came to her before she had to rally the qixing against osial in the last archon quest. idk if other archons do that or if zhongli regularly shows up in people’s dreams, but its a “hmm” moment considering zhongli did plan to leave the fight up to the adepti and the qixing. perhaps it was his way of passing on his duty to ningguang by visiting her in a dream to help her in her fight. not only that, he was close to guizhong. perhaps he is giving back what he feels was hers to begin with? part of li yue’s rule? who knows.

- a LOT of fanmade designs of guizhong mirror that of ningguang’s. this isnt like a “ahah its coming together” moment as much as the ones mentioned above but its a neat tidbit regardless

- ningguang started from nothing before becoming one of the richest if not richest person in li yue. her decision to sacrifice the jade chamber shows her selflessness and devotion to her people, qualities that guizhong most likely exhibited towards her own people before her tragic death. not only that, it fits thematically with the concept of archons, meaning that it was possible for humans themselves to ascend to celestia (though i think you have to be a vision bearer to be able to do that). assuming that all gods in ancient times started as nothing (such as venti being nothing but an elemental being) and had to earn their spot in celestia, then ningguangs path to success and rulership closely resembles it, albeit in more modern terms.

- zhongli definitely does know about ningguang and shows quite a lot of respect for her, even chiding people about not touching pieces of ningguang’s property after fragments of it fell from the sky after the fight against osial. okay, sorry, tangent time, but how does he know that stuff was part of her tea set? or is he just good at guessing everything lol? did he ever go to the jade chamber and have tea with ningguang? who knows.

and some of my personal reasons why i like the pairing:

- yes childe can be zhongli’s wallet but ningguang could be his vault 

- their color pallets match so well. its kind of like how chongyun and xingqiu’s match perfectly lol.

- they are both tall. you get a tall aunt and uncle. posh wine aunt and broke uncle vibes?

- the idea of them being intrigued by each other due to past lives and connections- im a sucker for that idea

- zhongli learning human connection while also still having a part of guizhong with him at all times?? exquisite

- its rare. im gonna be honest, some rarepairs just make me smile and i wish more people considered them. the only other one i can think of rn is scaramona (but mostly because their colors fit well together again).

wow this was long idk if anyone will read it but if you do, lmk your own thoughts on this reincarnation theory!! id love to hear them! and also please remember to be respectful! as with any fandom, i am aware that some are very steadfast in certain ships, but lets all let each other enjoy what we enjoy, thank you!

[yanderenightmare]

just curious, do you see the bnha characters as japanese? like ethnic wise. like i see you write that they're still situated in japan and they technically are speaking japanese, but idk, i don't think its bad to not picture them as ethnically japanese, what about you

this is actually a good question, let me guys know what you think in the comments cuz im genuinely curious about this too.

goodiebag WARNINGS: please note that there are foolish-fun stereotypes ahead, please don't take them seriously at all, sorry if i offend anyone with this, please know i mean nothing by any of it

BNHA thoughts

I personally don't view most of them as ethnically Japanese. Not for any big reason, just because associations and such get in the way. But it's weird, because sometimes I'll be looking at fanart of for example Bakugo where the artist has chosen a realistic approach and I'll suddenly be reminded of him being Japanese, which is a surprise to me.

It also throws me off because, I know they are technically still speaking Japanese even though I'm writing english speech. But, like for example with Bakugo and Hawks, I give them like a ragged accent, and when I write Shoto I'Il give him a slightly posh vocabulary. So, it's interesting...

Just another disclaimer. I feel it should be obvious that these are stereotypes that are untrue, and that if you have an issue with discussing such tropes it's your responsibility to stop reading now. There are trigger warnings at the top of the post, so any unsavoury feelings beyond those are out of my hands and on you.

Sorry for being harsh, but apparently some people need to be told twice.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Going off of stereotypes, he's just too disrespectful to be Japanese.

And no one will agree with me on this, but...

I get such a Slavic vibe from Bakugo.

Like, hear me out.

RA RA RASPUTIN!

Looks mysterious and smart until he starts loudly yelling for no reason. The seemingly uncalled for and bottomless rage making him look like an oaf. The pouting and grunting like he's forgotten basic human speech.

That slavic fashion though-

Black crew neck and chain.

Tattoos and rings.

A nose that's been broken a few too many times.

Cut brow, popped lip and bruised knuckles.

You can't deny how natural it would be to see Bakugo unscrewing a bottle of absolute vodka and proceed to drink it like it's water with the same bored unfazed expression on his face. I'm talking no swallowing, just letting it pour down his throat, like it's nothing, just chugging it down.

Don't even get me started on the stereotypical Russian bad guy. Cunning and sinister, emotionless demeanour and cruel behaviour, until going completely feral and ballistic when things don't go according to plan, flipping the table and screaming at his henchmen, calling everyone useless.

CYKA BLYAT!

BUT, I used to get a Scandic feeling off of Bakugo because of the ash-blonde hair, the obsession with war and conquer like he's some Viking or Berserker, and the sand-coloured slightly tanned skin like he's been on a longboat for weeks rowing, bulging biceps and roughed hands.

I can picture him holding an axe so easily, dressed in fur for warmth, maniacal battle grin, blood-splatter on his face.

But then again, I might just be biased from seeing that one medieval fantasy alternate universe end-credits in season two.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Completely off the bat, the curls have always given me Jewish vibes.

Then there's the cunning and the calculating, the wild thinking-rampage he goes on, dissecting and analysing, playing though every possible scenario and picking the easiest approach for the desired outcome. The strictly academical approach, the brain over brawn.

I can also picture him circumcised. No specific reason.

Also, there's just a certain association with that type of resilience he has. Being a minority, but still aiming for the top. Some people will call it greed, but fuck them.

And, I don't know if you guys watch Eurovision, but Isreal won a couple of years ago with Toy by Netta Barzilai and can't you imagine Deku singing that at Bakugo like a fucking legend. Someone should make an animatic.

I'm not your toy! Not your toy!

You stupid boy! Stupid boy!

Also, I think Inko being the exact embodiment of a stereotypical Jewish mother having something to do with it too. Overprotective, smothering, overbearing, but loving and very proud of her son and his achievements.

THE TODOROKI'S

This is a tricky one.

All I know is I feel it's a mix of two ethnic groups/nationalities.

The brute power-obsessed Enji x the elegant kind Rei.

Britain x Scandinavia seems about right, but it could also be America x Canada.

Enji, for me at least, it might be the red hair, but he's like a brute Irishman or Scott. But same could be said about him being American.

And then Rei, because of the ice, is Scandi, like an elegant Swede. And again, same could be said about her being Canadian.

Shoto, to me, is so Swedish it hurts. But I can also see the Canadian in him. The aloof but kind personality. Pretty like a greek god, sharp facial structure, but pale like Jack Frost. The posh talk and the hidden psycho.

Edgy chainsmoker Dabi is like a British rockstar. Daddy Issues, The Neighbourhood anyone? But then again, take any some by Green Day, which is an American band, and it would be Dabi for me as well.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

American.

Strictly based on air force pilots.

Aviator sunglasses. The fur suede jacket. The cargo-pants. The boots. The blown-back golden locks and the pearly-white smile, the royal-red wings, he's only missing baby-blue eyes.

Laid back, almost too chill. So cool you'd stutter when speaking to him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

French or german.

No idea why though.

They just have sexy snakey languages, being whispered in the ear with that accents would make me melt.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

So Australian it's almost exhausting.

There aren't any men manlier than the ones in Australia.

So fearless they're dumb with haphazard.

Crocodile Dundee anyone?

This guy would wrestle any animal that is up to the challenge, the crocs, the sharks, the kangaroos. He'd bite back. He'd punch.

Surfing. Boating. So tan. Always topless

Scars where he's scratched himself on the reef.

Fun, breezy personality. Not a care in the world. Just out here living life. The more danger, the better.

KAMINARI DENKI

Again, maybe a bit controversial.

But English, right?

Smooth talker with that sultry english accent, rock vibes, pot, fine dresser, quirky coloured slacks and brown leather belt, matching leather watch slapped around his wrist, tinted glasses with thin steel lining, hair-gel, untucked shirt with a ribbed white tee beneath the flannel.

Such a hipster it's almost nauseating.

Beatles, Doors, Rolling Stones, late night guitar practice by himself, amateur poetry with a bottle of beer.

Bottle-cap collector, tries a new local beer brand every time he drinks.

CHISKAI KAI

This one is Japanese, because of one word:

Yakuza.

Narrow eyes and pretty lashes. The way he looks at people like their dirt beneath his shoes. The mask.

Suit and tie, but something so anime like a purple faux-fur bomber-jacket.

Power, control, secrets, corruption.

Pride, honour, respect.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

I have no idea?!!?!?!

THE FUCK, help??

.

These are just some honourable mentions:

TENYA IIDA

Japanese.

Respectful. Top grades and education focus. Family honour.

ASHIDO MINA

Afro-American.

Cool. Dance moves, street and breaking. Style. Hangs with the boys and the girls, no stress. Trash-talk and diss.

SERO HANTA

Just mexican for me, can't explain why.

YOAYOROZU MOMO

Italian.

Just that one innocent don daughter of the mob.

Wealthy. Stylish. Daddy's girl.

URURAKA OCHAKO

So cute, which is Japanese for me.

But then she's kinda chubby thicc too with the round doe-eyes eyes, and I feel her personality is kind of American.