#instead of just kind of leaving him as a one note confused fucking asshole

[computerpeople]

thats why birdlime only exists in my hea dand will never be a story because i have the POV of all the characters and cant choose one.

[rosenclaws]

Logan Howlett x gn!reader who’s not a mutant, but has a very high precognitive sense (in which they can sense when a ball might hit someone and catch it without looking / or anything similar to the matter heh)

warnings: gn!reader, the reader is crazy flirty with logan, some drunk assholes being dicks, it gets a little suggestive idk how I keep doing this.

a/n: Okay i can’t lie i was struggling a little bit coming up with an idea but i did my best. Shout out to @huffle-punk for helping me ily bitch

Logan was no stranger to seedy bars. In fact he might call them his home away from home. He just needed an out. A place that actually served alcohol for once. The mansion was nice and all but sometimes the man needed a drink. So he hopped on his motorcycle and rode for a while until he stumbled upon some hole in the wall.

He scoped out the bar as soon as he walked in. Taking note of everyone who was there. It was mostly dead. Some loud assholes by the darts and a few people sitting in the booths but that's about it. He was naturally alert. His kind weren’t always welcome in places like these.

“What can I get for you?" The bartender nods towards him as he sits on one of the bar stools. Logan takes out a 20 and hands it to the guy.

"You got Molson Ex?" The guy nods and cracks one open for him.

"Whiskey sour please." A voice next to him says.

He glances over to see you standing at the bar. Now that peeks his interest. You look too good to be here in a place like this. You catch his glance and smirk.

"Never seen you here before." You take the seat next to him. He was a stranger for sure but a very good looking one. Logan cocks an eyebrow before taking another sip of his beer.

"Not a talker huh handsome?"

"You always this forward with strangers?" Logan asks, slightly amused by your flirting.

"Only when they're hot. You should be flattered."

The bartender comes back with your drink and before you can pay Logan gestures to put it on his tab. You take a sip of your drink and set it down close to his beer. Logan turns his body towards you, letting you see just how built this man was. You bite your lip as you shamelessly look him up and down.

"You got somewhere to be?" Logan asks a playful smirk on his lips.

"Nope."

You don't know how much time has passed since you started talking to Logan. He was one of those mysterious brooding guys, not even a last name as you flirt up a storm. That's okay, you don't need to know his last name. The space between you two got smaller and smaller as the night went on. Moving away from the barstools to the back of the room. More hidden, more private. His hands have found their way to your back. Holding you close as he leans in close.

"Logan..." You hum as you trail your hand up his chest. Gently grabbing onto his shirt. You roll your eyes as the group of guys by the darts start to get rowdier. The more alcohol they have in them the more obnoxious they get.

"We should get out of here." He hums, he registers your words but he doesn't move. Instead leaning closer, his lips ghosting your jaw as he gently nips below your ear.

You body tenses as your hand shoots out before you can even think, catching the dart that was heading directly for Logan's neck. Logan looks at you in slight confusion. How you managed to react so quickly.

"Hey assholes!" You slip out from Logan's arms and march over to them.

"Watch where you're fucking throwing these things." You throw the dart on the table.

"Or what?" One them gets up, he's not as intimidating as he thinks but he's clearly drunk. You roll your eyes and turn to leave. A hand grabs your wrist harshly and pulls you back. In a flash Logan is by your side. Practically ripping the guys hand off you and pushing him into the table.

"Don't fucking touch 'em bub." Logan growls.

Your eyes widen as you see metal peek out from his knuckles. He's a mutant. The drunk guys scramble away from him. You tug on Logan's arm. Noticing stares from the rest of the people, fear in their eyes. "Come on," He sheathes his claws and looks around. Wordlessly he storms out of the bar with you hot on his heels. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cigar, letting out a small groan as he lights it.

"You alright?" Logan asks, noticing that you've followed him out.

"Yeah I'm okay. Are you?" He takes another puff of his cigar and nods.

"Those are some crazy reflexes."

"Yeah, I don't know I've just always had them but I'm not a..." You trail off as you become unsure if you should say anything.

"A mutant?" He finishes for you. He laughs, shaking his head as he gets on his motorcycle.

"Wait Logan! I, I like you and I'm sorry those assholes ruined our night but I don't want it to end." You place your hand on top of his.

It's been flirty, fun, casual up until now but there's a clear attraction that you can't ignore, you don't want to ignore it.

"You sure you can handle a mutant?" Your hand jerks away as his claws come out. Oh that's how he wants to play it.

"I can handle some kitty claws Logan," You tease, running your fingers along his claws.

"The real question is, can you handle me?"

[eddiesghxst]

enemies to lovers rafe who get in an argument with you at a party and makes you cry cos your drunk and he always thought it would bring some satisfaction seeing you cry but just has this really bad gut feeling the rest of the night and all the rest of the next day (suffering from hanxiety not fun trust) and gets up and buys a bunch of followers and leaves them at your door while watching you pick up the note on them from his car

"grow some balls next time but sorry" and smiles when you dont throw to the ground and head back into your house

and later that night he gets a text message from you

"thanks you fucking asshole" *image attached*

and a week later as your throwing out the old flowers after they had wilted theirs a new set in the same spot.

me when he loves me but is mean to be and i love it :)  -🎸

god like he’s trying, honestly he really is! he felt like shit after making you cry and rafe doesn’t know the first thing about forming the words “i’m sorry” on his tongue so… endless supply of flowers it is. he doesn’t even know if you like flowers. doesn’t know what your favorite one is or anything of that matter, but you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he just keeps sending them.

and then he stops by the cafe you work at and you’re there with puffy eyes and a sniffle and he’s like “you look like shit.”

“yeah well someone won’t stop sending me truck loads of fucking flowers in the middle of allergy season.”

and rafe just kind of stops, “…why didn’t you tell me?”

“well they’re pretty flowers…” you shrug

and oh my god you’re a fucking idiot…but you’re so sweet (annoyingly so), suffering a clogged nose and itchy eyes just because rafe sends you pretty flowers. rafe wants to laugh and tell you you’re cute, instead all that comes out is a twisted confused expression and “you’re dumb.”

whatever. either way, you wake up to a bouquet of hydrangeas and lilies with a handwritten note that says, “less pollen in these so maybe they won’t attempt to kill you.”

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 21: A Crowbar Called Love

GIF Credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 21: Drunk Confession

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) drunkenly confesses something that sends him into a tizzy; that she wants to have his kids.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, self-doubt, evolving Dad!Carmy, maybe the start of a breeding kink(?), fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (822 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

21 Oct 2024

She said she wants to have my babies, and I honestly don't know what in the fuck to do with myself.

How did I get here?

What the fuck did I do to earn that?

What?

How?

I'm a fucking disaster, why the fuck would anyone think I'd make a not-shitty dad?

And she said it in front of Richie and Nat. That asshole is never gonna let me hear the end of it. This is what I get for taking my eyes off the cider for five minutes. Richie probably didn’t even fucking measure before spiking it.

Fuck. My. Life.

I have no business having kids, I'm just gonna end up like ma! No! No! Abso-fucking-lutely not!

Okay, yes, they'd be cute, but this is a terrible idea!

I can’t stop fucking thinking about this. The adoration in her eyes, the way she whispered it into my mouth, the way she pulled my hair and repeated it—whined it—until my brain checked into reality in a confused state. Carmen, I wanna start a family with you. I love you so much. I want babies. Carmy… Carmy, please? Please, can we talk about kids?

It’s the next morning, and I woke up an hour before my alarm, invaded, besieged, strangled by thoughts of cradling her belly, of feeling little kicks against my palm through her soft, supple skin. The thought of baby shoes while I stared at my own, hand trembling as I dragged it through my hair and tried to recompress so I could make it through a workday. What was more was that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about how wonderful of a mother she’d make. She’d be sweet, kind, understanding, protective, a great advocate, teacher, counselor. I thought of being home with a kid in my arms. Nat’s daughter is so precious, so innocent, so pure. I could have one. A few. And I could do better than ma or dad did.

I wanted to do better than ma and dad did.

I wandered back into the bedroom, leaned against the doorframe and just watched Darling snuggled up in bed, her face buried in my t-shirt, a cute little croissant under the covers. There existed in my mind, sometime before then—couldn’t figure out exactly when it changed—this looming understanding of this arrangement being temporary. This relationship was a ticking clock, a sword dangling over my head by a horsehair, and in all likelihood, I was going to fuck up, and she was going to leave. It seemed like an inevitability. But permanence, comfort, routine, it crept up on me. Could I imagine an existence without Darling? Did a future without her even exist? Did I allow myself to love her so completely, so deeply, that my forever was staked in the ground with her?

Two kids. And a dog. Our own house. It’d be nice if one of them liked cooking, but I wasn’t going to be upset if they wanted to try something else. I’d support them trying new things. I’d reduce my hours at The Bear, too, so I could be around to hug them and read them bedtime stories. My vision abruptly blurred. Droplet of warmth fell from my eyelashes and drew a streak down my face.

Of course, I was fucking crying again.

Ever love someone so much that it hurt? That the love embedded itself so deep into you that it burrowed roots in the same places that all your fucking trauma lived? That it crumbled and frayed the armor of bitterness, apathy, hatred, and anger you’d been using to hold yourself together against the assault of being alive and being so many things the world didn’t like—short, sensitive, warm, caring, quiet, shy? For your curly hair, for your features, for your weird fucking quirks and habits? The world stabbed you in the fucking kidneys for daring to exist, and you walled off yourself behind protective mechanisms to stop the knives going any deeper than they already had, from piercing the softest parts of you; and out of nowhere, this little thing called love shows up as a crowbar and jams under that armor with no ceremony and certainly no warning. It fucking hurts at first. It hurts like you can’t fucking believe or imagine, and it scares the shit out of you because if that armor comes off, you feel like you’ll die, but eventually? Eventually, the armor starts crumbling away, and you feel the saccharine mercy of love in all the places that the armor hurt. Yeah, you thought your trauma was the thing that inflicted agony all these years? Your fucking armor wore chasms in you all the same.

This wasn’t a contest, baby girl, but you win. I surrender. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, and I can’t get enough of it. So, yeah. Yeah, we can talk about kids.

[angsty-violet]

Broken

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Porsche glanced at Pete as Pete stared out the window. Pete’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused outward.

Vegas had been locked away in a padded cell for six months. During that time, Pete begged, bartered, threatened and prayed. Every minute he had spent away from Vegas’ side had killed him.

Now, finally, he was being released.

Pete wasn’t sure if he had finally gotten some progress or if what Kinn had said about the doctors deciding he was ready to leave. Either way, Pete was taking him home, and he would make sure that none of these assholes would ever lay eyes on him again.

Vegas was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands. They had a moment alone while Porsche dealt with some of the paperwork. Pete knelt in front of him, taking his cold hands.

“Vegas?” Pete was distressed to note his voice was nearly on the verge of tears. It had been so long since they had even laid eyes on each other.

Vegas looked at him when Pete said his name, but Pete nearly burst into tears when he saw his eyes. There was no life in them. They were just blank.

“Baby, I’m taking you home.”

Vegas looked so confused, and Pete’s heart shattered.

“Home?”

The willpower to not dissolve into tears was a lot, so Pete just nodded.

“You ready?”

Vegas looked around the room and then at Pete. There was hardly any recognition there at all. But apparently, that didn’t matter.

“Yeah.”

The ride home had been painful. Porsche had attempted to talk with Vegas, but all he got were confused looks and no response. Finally, they settled into awkward silence. Despite his confusion, Vegas had continued to hold Pete’s hand on the way home, and Pete counted that as some kind of progress. By the time they pulled up to the Minor Family home, Pete was beyond rattled. However, more recognition entered Vegas’ eyes as he looked up.

“Home?”

Pete’s heart really couldn’t take this. Vegas had lived here his entire life, and now whatever they had done to him made it so he didn’t even remember his home.

“Yeah.”

Three days on, and Vegas had shown hardly any improvement. Pete’s stomach ached constantly as he guided his boyfriend from day-to-day activity. He was like a doll. No thoughts, no feelings, just doing what Pete told him and nothing else.

He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was in one-word answers to direct questions. His original ability to recognize his home seemed to have been the sum total of it.

Currently, Pete had put him in the sunroom with one of his favorite books. Pete didn’t truly believe that something as little as familiarity would undo what had been done to him, but he thought it was worth a try.

He was glad of it when he saw who had come for a visit.

“What do you want?”

Kinn gazed at him with an unreadable expression. “I’ve come to see my cousin.”

“Macau is in America.” And out of reach of your filthy horrible influence, Pete thought but didn’t say. They all knew why he had packed Macau off to America to attend a university far from home.

Kinn rolled his eyes. “I’m here to see Vegas.”

“No.”

“Pete,” Porsche started.

“No! You locked him away, you had those doctors do God knows what, you’re not seeing him. You don’t get to treat him like that and then show back up here. Get out!”

Kinn turned reluctantly. Then he turned back. “It wasn’t my idea. I tried to talk my father out of it. Please, Pete, I have to see if he’s okay.”

“He isn’t!” But the problem was that Pete was so tired. The last months had been hell, and instead of the joyous reunion with his lover, he had gotten back someone so broken that sometimes he didn’t even recognize his own name.

Porsche hugged Pete tight. Kinn watched, not able to do anything. Pete cried softly, burying his face in his best friend’s chest. After a few minutes, he resurfaced.

“He’s in the sunroom, but he’s in really rough shape.”

Kinn nodded and left Porsche and Pete still hugging. He knew where the sunroom was, and he wasn’t willing to wait for Pete in case the man decided he no longer wanted Kinn to see Vegas.

He entered the sunroom, and his eyes fell on Vegas. For a second, he looked completely normal. A book was set in his lap, closed, and his eyes were focused on something outside. Kinn had found him like this a million and one times. Then, that image was shattered when Vegas turned to look at who had entered the room.

His face was blank, and his eyes were distant. Kinn realized that he hadn’t been looking at something outside. He had just been facing that direction. Kinn approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him. However, it must not have mattered because Vegas didn’t say or do anything.

Kinn knelt down on the floor next to him and took one of his hands. They were cold. Vegas still didn’t say or do anything.

“Ah,” Kinn started and realized that he was on the verge of tears. “I am so sorry, Vegas. I am so sorry.”

Kinn pressed a small kiss to the cold hand and then hugged Vegas’ knees. The tears started to flow freely.

“I had no idea my father was going to do that. I tried to stop him, to get you back out, but he wouldn’t budge. Just getting you released cost, well, it doesn’t matter what it cost me. We’re going to take care of you. You’re going to get better, and everything will be fine.” Despite his words, Kinn wasn’t actually certain that was true.

He was about to get up when a hand settled on his head. Kinn peeked up, and Vegas was looking at him, with something like recognition, with his hand on Kinn’s head.

It was something, at least.

[dprdonuts]

Nevertheless, Ep 3: Woman Takes Brief Break from being an ethical non monogamist to enjoy a tv show

Sol continues to be the hottest one in the show, and she is so wasted on Ji wan, 

Ok so next episode, Jae-Eon picks up some girl at an airport. And NaBi is angsting bc she doesn’t hear from him all day. “Does he not like me or is he teasing me?”

So. Him just…you know…having shit to do. Isn’t an option?

Ok. noted. =.=

NaBi wanders off to get food, and runs into her boy working on his project. He doesn’t see her, he answers his phone, she follows him creepily and sees the other girl.. Cue angst. “She’s the one his heart belongs to.”

Because it can only be one. 

Now it’s JaeEon’s turn to see her leaving a convenience store and giving her number to another dude, another student. 

He’s sort of watching from a distance with the other girl. He neutrally mentions he knows them, and girl gets jealous. Turns out they had matching engraved zippos, but she lost hers.  Very much giving gf vibes. He talks about Na Bi and she’s all “you’re into her, it’s fate” and he's’ all “you’re my fate”

Convenience Store Guy acts more like she would expect from a dude pursuing her, and she seems comfortable, and considers him.

And he’s an absolute Cinnamon Roll, I love him. He brings her snacks and is just…nice.

Ope, now my boy’s being dumb. Walks in on Ol girl talking to Cinnamon Roll and gets jealous, and tries to like. Put lil man in his place, and gets put in his instead. She’s got a spine!

Sort of. She kind of…half ass calls him out on being a jealous dick. He doesn’t really admit to it.

Like,  she hasn’t heard from him for a couple days, and now he jumps in being possessive and trying to draw attention to him. That’s douchey and fucked up.

So she goes on a date with cinnamon roll and it’s adorable. Very sweet, direct, little chatterbox of a man

And now I’m mad again.

Nabi goes to a school festival to see Cinnamon Roll, and there’s another girl there. Apparently his HS Crush who rejected him reached out. So NaBi gets awkwardly rejected, Jae Eon sees the whole thing. Home girl goes home, and she’s laying in bed, appears to be coming down with a cold…and FuckBoy Jae Eon totally calls her like “hey can I come over?”  No apology, no acknowledgement he acted like a possessive asshole, just “i’m by your house, wanna hang out?”

I apparently completely missed this bit before. Ope.  This is also where he finds out she had deleted his number from her phone. This is important later.

 Her phone dies, so she goes to the convenience store to get medicine, when she gets home, there’s an ambulance at her house.

FuckBoy called a got damn ambulance cus he thought she’d passed out or something. Remember what I said before about losing their tiny minds over a papercut? Yeah.

In a cute way now tho.

So she sends him packing..and this mf comes back with a care package of meds and snacks for her, and I have feelings about this.

I’m super annoyed they didn’t address him being a possessive douche. Like, it’s one thing to make his interest known, and to be nonmono, but it’s absolutely not ok to act like dog at a fire hydrant when she’s around other dudes. 

So. Perfect was def too strong of a word.

…so she’s like “i don’t like this bag of stuff take it back” and he’s all like “i’m hungry” and she tells him to eat the food while hanging out together.

And this turns into him spending the night holding her hand, hunched over next to the bed, like a hospital scene, so he can earn her trust back.

He addresses his jealousy-doesn’t outright say he was a douche, but does admit to being jealous. She assumes that he liked seeing her get rejected. Which is reasonable, I think, because of how he called her basically immediately after, acting like they’d never argued. 

But that’s not what happened. He admitted to being jealous, and that it bothered him to find out that she’d deleted him from the phone. 

And this is why the fuckboy allegations are so confusing to me. Because he’s not treating her like a hook up, or a casual relationship. He’s treating her like a partner. Literally the only thing that is different between how he pursues her, and how any other dude would, is that there’s no assumption of monogamy. I would argue that the way he goes about it is questionable, but that’s mostly because the culture of enm in the US is of transparency and enthusiastic consent.

…and he is very much working to sell her on nonmonogamy. Thaaats why it makes my brain itch.

Jae Eon is solo nonmonogamous. He has partners, but non exclusively, he does not have a nesting partner, nor seem to want one, and he isn’t invested in the relationship escalator. He also does not have the language or a supportive enm community around him. So, he performs enm, and persuades people thru open practice, rather than naming it.

So, in episode two, there was an interaction that I ignored, because I found it uninteresting and maybe a little fatphobic. When they were all hanging out at the bar, there was a dude-one of the only fat people i’ve ever seen in a kdrama- who was doing the “ambiguously creepy” guy thing. If he was an american, he’d prob be wearing a fedora. Like he specifically asks NaBi to sit next to him, and when she does he gets all fixated on the fact that she’s single now, and asks her why she hasn’t taken her jacket off and…a few other just. Weird fucking things. At one point, NaBi, Jae Eon and Bit Na are outside having a smoke, and Fedora Dude comes out is being really obnoxious and pushy about finding out what Nabi and jae eon’s relationship is, and Jae Eon tells him “nah, we’re just friends.” Nabi walks away and Fauxdora starts the “she’s not pretty enough to be this stuck up” and Jae Eon puts him in his place and everyone gets on with their life.  

NaBi was bothered by Jae Eon not “claiming her” ig. For me tho, the way to handle Fedora Dudes is to straight tell them to get to fuck, it’s none of their business. And that seems like what Jae Eon did. In my mind, he was showing her the same respect he would any of his other friends/partners, in not “staking a claim” so to speak, and also shutting down the ass hat. 

So when he engaged in jealous twattery around Cinnamon Roll, it was extra surprising. Ofc, the reason is that Cinnamon Rolls was a threat, and Fedoradouche was not. Jae eon was shielding her from Fedoradouche, and competing with Cinnamon Roll. Valid. 

So on the one hand, the narrative is showing that NaBi is “special” (gags) by him being possessive of her in ways he isn’t possessive of others. He’s also…gently aggressive with her, after she finally consents to kissing him. He just…keeps pursuing. It’s a behavior that irritates tf out of me, ignoring soft nos, and pushing for a hard no. Then when he gets a hard no, in the form of her deleting his number, and sending him packing after the ambulance leaves, he still keeps pursuing her. 

So he essentially tells her that he’s going to keep being nice to her until he earns her trust and gives him a chance. Which…irl would stalkery and annoying af. But because we’re inside her head, and we know she’s completely obsessed with him, and also because of my own biases against monogamy, and my general annoyance that enm is not even discussed as an option, it gets a pass, both narratively, and in my head. 

And then they bang, because that’s exactly what they both need when she has a cold. Fuckin tv, man

[weebsinstash]

More Val pls 😭 there’s never enough of him

I like this nasty man an unhealthy amount so I could just spit ball some random concepts I've been having for him

-I've been playing around with the different products and things I do to my hair and it made me think of like, since Val is so materialistic and likes having "pretty company" that he starts obsessing over Reader and their hair. Like, I mentioned before a concept "oh what if Reader's hair or eyes or something on them glowed" cause, you know, hes a moth, and you're just sitting chilling during or after your shift and like, he's on the phone or doing something where you aren't 100% paying attention to him and he just. Reaches over and starts playing with your hair. You're trying not to side eye him and give him weird looks in confusion as he's just casually twisting a strand of your hair around a finger, maybe running his fingers through it, just kind of, all but palming the top of your head. And you can't ask him what the fucking deal is because he's on the phone and you're just a server and you don't want him to potentially give you the pimp hand for interrupting what sounds like a potential business deal (and of course that's his intention). he's just getting his hands and fingers all up in that shit while you can't say anything while he's seeing your hair texture, where your parts are, the state of your hair and your scalp, maybe you catch a scowl or two if you have an issue like accidentally using too much conditioner or he sees any dandruff, making a mental note to "fix you later"

-couple that with another idea of "Valentino making you hate your own hair and maybe since it glows its white or something and one day he EXTREMELY pisses you off and the very next shift you have you slam his drink down on the table 'here you go Mr Valentino ^^' and he looks up and you've dyed your hair jet black and it doesn't glow now and he INSTANTLY drags you to HIS salon and his hair stylist to get all that out of your hair without damaging it (and maybe you even dyed it wrong or with the wrong materials to try and damage it or make the dye permanant on purpose just to piss him off and hope he leaves you alone, which he doesnt)

-Be high maintenance to be low maintenance. He wants to see you all fixed up without garnering animosity from, well, the hoes. Everyone is in the limo and he says some shit like how recently everyone's been earning him a lot of money so he's gonna treat everyone and he's just kind of like "and you can come too I guess 🙄" as if he's just throwing you in there as an extra but in actuality this is him avoiding anyone going "but Daddy why do THEY get XYZ and not me 🥺" because if he could, like, he'd just be a two faced asshole and blatantly pamper you while neglecting his hardest workers like, say, Angel. I've even considered, like, what if Valentino notices huge changes in Angel's positivity and obedience and just overall demeanor after he hangs out with you (because remember, Angel has a little sis who presumably went to Heaven and he misses her a lot) and Valentino kind of makes you two a package deal: if he keeps you happy, you help keep Angel happy and easier to manipulate

-like just imagine Angel is trying to stick up for himself amd tell Val, hey maybe I don't wanna sleep with that john, he's a real fuckin creep, and Valentino just cocks a brow, "oh, you want me to have your little friend do it instead?" And Angel is just alright sir right away sir thank you for this opportunity Mista Valentino 😊 like. Depressing

-another idea I've had is like, what if Valentino actually didn't even really care for you but VOX does and once he starts paying attention to you, it sucks Val in. And this kind of ranges from everything of "you're kind of a gamer/dweeb like Vox and you two click" to "you produce music and Vox is aware of/fan of your stuff, or Velvet is if Reader is like, an idol, because why not for fun lmao" to "you're a chick but you're a little more 'butch and tough' than Val's other girls and he's like a bottom or a switch and he likes that

Like can you imagine like, everyone is in the limo when it pops a tire or some shit and everyone has to get out on the sidewalk, and maybe someone on limo maintenance fucks up and there's no jack, or maybe one of the drivers is too dumb to know how to properly remove a tire, and Vox and Val are just getting progressively pissed off and, there you are, rolling up your sleeves and just, reaching down and, getting the breaker bar to finally spin and loosen the bolts around the tire, or even reaching down and picking up the limo (because really, where is the fun in putting Reader in a world with magic and powers and not getting anything ourselves"

Or someone comes to try and kill Val because he's a gangster and maybe he fucked someone over on a deal and that secret second job I.M.P training of yours kicks in and you practically become John Wick. You do some sly shit like idk catch Vox from falling and tripping or pulling him just out of reach of getting fucked up and all but pull him into a tango dip and maybe to lighten the mood you try to joke around "hey handsome you come here often?" While you're holding him up with your strength like he weighs nothing and he's just PINK and later on he's laying with Val in bed "hey I think I might be bi actually???" while Val pokes and prods to find out who tf he's talking about

-I've thought of really just goofy concepts for fun like, what if there's a dance competition with a cash prize and Reader who is maybe male in this idea is on the downlow but is like a dance major or even a hip hop superstar and he enters the competition and he's nearly in the semifinal round and suddenly the shows like "and for an extra special guest judge today we have the Porn King of Pentagram City, Valentino!!!" and your blood runs cold because like you're not exactly stripping but there have been quite a few dances where you've been dropping your ass a lil bit and being just more than a little zesty and Valentino turns his eyes to you and he's got just the most smug "I caught your ass" smirk on his face. The version of you Valentino knows is blunt and quiet and doesn't talk much, all but over compensating masculinity, and yet here you are, shaking that waist and ass of yours until he wants to squeeze you with all of his hands.

-honestly just concepts in general where Reader turns out to have some sort of artistic gift are fun. Reader is an author and Valentino finds out your porn is actually pretty good, or maybe he's entertained the quiet shy mousey little you had a nasty side, or maybe the numbers you reach on your stuff screams money to him. Or he brings you to a club and the track on the speakers change and your face lights up "oh my god I wrote this!" And its a song from when you were alive and you rush to the dance floor to whip out some choreography way too planned and precise to just be some bullshit you're whipping out of nowhere and maybe even singing as people in the club instantly recognize you as formerly-alive fans

Honestly its a little wacky but imagine the like tonal difference, the dichotomy, the black and white difference of, Valentino being this absolute fucking pervert and you're like this shy not very talkative person and he finds out like you're some poppy preppy bouncy feminine lil idol like some SAYU or Kyary Pamyu Pamyu shit and he's laughing in your face and maybe his pal Velvet comes into the room and her eyes just light up and suddenly she's shoving her phone in Valentino's face to show him your newest hit "Let Me Skip Into Your Heart (And Also Suck You Off) feat. Verosika Mayday" with like 2.5 million views in three months and he's like "ok I GUESS you have SOME talent 🙄" while he's also having an internal battle "wait do I have I new fetish for wanting to rip girly dresses and thigh highs off this bitch 🤔"

Honestly just "Valentino finding out you're a celebrity/influencer" ideas have been kind of fun. Imagine he's just minding his own business and one of his workers is sitting next to him watching something on their phone and he looks over and its a makeup tutorial, by you, or you're reviewing a certain product while making people laugh, or you're doing some like Stanzi Potenza sorta comedy or something, and he glances down to the metrics and likes amd view counts and its huge and he just glances across the limo to you and you're. In your work uniform, hair barely combed, you have some new acne breakouts, you have bags under your eyes, posture is shit because you're exhausted, but, that's definitely you and now he gets to find out the sheer scope of what you've been up to, and maybe becoming a manager of yours in the process

Ive even thought of like, what if Reader offhandedly gave Valentino some business advice and it turned out working really well and he consults you from time to time. Like imagine Valentino is talking business and you're around and he's talking about profits and shit and like, maybe the amount of people who want to sleep with his top earners is down, even not as many people want Angel to satisfy Val's green, and maybe you just kind of offhandedly butt into the conversation without even looking up from your phone "well maybe its because he's a porn star. If you just like created a celebrity or an idol or a micro celebrity or something who was attractive and then you pimped them out in secret it would probably make you a ton of money, like of Beyonce started her career as a stripper that would put a ton of people off but if you told people they could secretly fuck Beyonce the musician they would sell their entire families for it" and maybe that segues into "Reader becomes some sort of idol or entertainer or singer or product for Valentino that he eventually pimps out (or even decides he won't because he's too jealous, you can sing and dance but HE'S the only one you can sleep with)

God I can't wait until Hazbin comes out this year. I HAVE to know what this man sounds like because the voice and finally seeing and hearing his speaking will be everything 😩❤️ or it could backfire and I might not like the finished product as much as the one I've built up in my head but, thems the breaks right?

[rebelrebels]

Could I request a possessive Simon x reader 👀

indeed you can. this was more like a fluffy possessive simon whoops

warnings: language

summary: (honestly more fluffier than i thought) simon is tired of sunnyvalers flirting with you when it's clear you're dating him. so, simon tries to makes sure no one else flirts with you.

"Simon, hurry up if you want to kick Sunnyvale ass!"

"I'm coming!"

Deena honked her car's horn once again. Simon came running out the front door with his backpack. You scooted over in the backseat to make room for him. He gladly took up all of the space.

"Why did you have to take all of us to meet your girlfriend?" You huffed.

"It's an excuse to get drunk with my girlfriend."

"We all know you're just going to make out in the bathroom," Simon responded. Everyone else agreed.

Deena started driving to Sunnyvale, and Josh had the luxury of sitting in the front seat. You, Kate, and Simon were stuck in the backseat.

Simon procured some cassettes from his backpack.

"Hey, no sappy shit, alright?" Deena said before putting one of the tapes he handed into the car's cassette deck.

"School's Out" By Alice Cooper came on instead, so you and Simon yelled the lyrics painfully off-key. Kate eventually joined in. After thirty minutes of singing along to rock songs, you finally arrived at Sunnyvale. There wasn't even a welcome sign anymore, just the usual disgruntled Sunnyvalers giving you the middle finger. Deena drove up to Sam's house and parked in the driveway.

Simon grabbed his backpack. "I don't know why you carry that around all the time," you said.

"For emergencies," he said matter-of-factly. You looked over at Kate, who shrugged.

Deena was busy bringing all of your gifts for Sam inside, and you were preoccupied with pouring yourself a cup of alcohol-free punch. Sam specifically said alcohol-free when Simon walked in.

You were about to go talk to Simon, but a Sunnyvaler stopped you.

"Can I help you?" You asked.

"You're pretty."

Came off a little too strong, you thought to yourself. Before you could say another word, Simon was next to you wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Fuck off," Simon said. The Sunnyvaler Stranger scurried away mumbling curses underneath his breath.

"That was a little much, Si."

"I know, right? The best for my lover."

You rolled your eyes to hide a small, lopsided smile, and Simon made a few stops to insult Sunnyvalers (you presumed, you really couldn't hear anything he said) before walking back to the living room to be a third wheel to Kate and Josh. To alleviate the awkwardness, you guessed. Simon was either terrible or amazing at not being socially awkward. You walked over to Sam, who was busy rummaging through her cassettes to put in the stereo.

"Oh, hi," she said.

"What's this?" You picked up a cassette that was labeled 'ours'.

"Simon asked me to put it on."

You smiled unconsciously. This was the mixtape you curated for him, one that he played every time you came over. The songs that made it up were practically imprinted onto your brain. His as well. Maybe it wasn't special to onlookers and drunk Sunnyvalers, but it was to you and Simon.

"Do you know where he is?" You asked Sam.

"Living room, last time I checked."

You thanked her, seeing Deena and Sam sneak into the bathroom and close the door out of the corner of your eye, and went to the living room.

Simon was sat next to Josh (who was asleep next to Kate) watching an obscure TV show that probably wasn't popular since the sixties.

"Hey, Y/N," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Our mixtape is on."

"Yeah. I heard. Wanna watch?"

"Sure," you sat down next to him, head rested comfortably on his shoulder. "You've been acting weird ever since we came to this party."

"Led Zep's on," he deflected.

Led Zep was, indeed, on. You could hear "Heartbreaker" from the main room.

"No," you continued, "you're a little...possessive, is all."

"Possessive?"

"Jealous?"

"I liked possessive better."

"Nah, you're jealous."

"No," he said, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I heard," you said, "from Deena, that you went around telling Sunnyvalers to back off and stop hitting on me."

"Hey, Y/N," Deena stopped you.

You stopped. "Yeah?"

"Sam overheard Simon telling Peter to, and I quote, "get fucked"."

"What for?"

"Hitting on you, I guess? Sam didn't finish. She had a little too much, uh, virgin punch."

You laughed softly.

"Maybe I did," he responded.

"Why? I can fend for myself, you know."

"I know. I just thought maybe I'd be able to piss off every asshole at this party as possible."

You smiled. You stared down at his hand, letting your fingers hover over his chipped black nail polish, noting to yourself to fix them later on.

"You're really," you paused to find a word that fit, "sweet. Cute, even."

He smiled back. You two exchanged no words while watching the black and white show on the TV screen with, unfortunately, no subtitles or captions. You fell asleep when Heart played subtly from the main room. You don't know the exact time of when you woke up, but the party was almost over and everyone by now was leaving.

"You ready to go?" Deena asked, practically stumbling into the living room.

"Did it..take you long to find us?" You asked.

Kate and Josh popped up next to her. "No, she had to deal with a drunk Sam," Kate replied. "She's coming with us, by the way."

"Won't her mom be worried?" Simon asked.

"Nah," Deena replied nonchalantly.

"Hey, I call shotgun!" You yelled before Simon could.

"I don't want her to throw up in my lap!" He whined.

"Boo hoo," you said, climbing into the car's front seat.

Sam didn't throw up in Simon's lap, but did so by slowly moving her head through the open window. You adjusted the rearview mirror to see Simon's disgusted face and almost burst out in laughter.

In the middle of the drive, Deena took something out of her pocket and gave it to you. You were slightly confused.

"What is it?"

"A picture of you and Simon sleeping on Sam's couch."

"Cute, kind of creepy, but cute."

Your head was rested on his shoulder like at the party, Kate and Josh were gone. Simon was holding your hand, his head nestled snugly in your nape.

You placed it on the dashboard, smiling at it, wondering how many Sunnyvalers gave you annoyed looks.

[soulmate-game]

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

[miekasa]

break up with your boyfriend, i’m bored

+ pairings: um… armin x reader…. but, spotlight on jean—just... read it to understand, please

+ genres and warnings: college au what’s new, fluff… you’re just going to have to work with me and trust me on this one alright

+ notes: free colt he ain’t do nothing wrong i just needed someone outside of their immediate friend group to blame i am so sorry justice for my boy colt and falco too

+ more notes: longer levi fic still in progress, so have jean thee comedian in the meantime

“I think I have a crush on someone.”

Jean crosses his arms and makes it a point to huff even louder than before so that you can accurately assess his annoyance at moment; going so far as to slump back into your not so comfortable couch to really sell it.

“And that is why you manhandled me all the way to your apartment on a Tuesday afternoon?” he asks, voice flat and eyes hooded.

You groan and roll your eyes. Jean’s eyebrows are pinched together with more judgement than confusion at your current state of distress when you sit next to him on the sofa, a knee bent in his direction.

“Jeanie, I don’t think you’re understanding the severity of my issue.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he drawls, “But, please, do enlighten me. It’s not like I have an essay to write or anything.”

“I have a crush,” you reiterate, hands mapping out every syllable in your sentence, “On someone who is not my boyfriend.”

“I see,” he nods, but his voice remains flat, “And, pray tell, what exactly is my role in all of this?”

“You’re supposed to use your philosophical psychoanalytical bullshit to tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

“Philosophy and psychology are two different disciplines.”

“They sound the same to me.”

“That’s because you’re a single-celled chem major.”

“I think it takes more than a single cell to study chem.”

“Oh, is that what they tell you guys, now?”

“You’re not fucking helping.”

“Yes, I am,” he tuts, “It’s called talk therapy.”

“It sounds like you’re just taking shots at me.”

“Best friend talk therapy allows for a few digs here and there.”

“Jean,” you pinch his arm. He flinches, and yelps loudly, immediately raising the affected arm to counter with a flick to the center of your forehead. You glare, the palm of your left hand covering the sting on your skin, but concede, “Well played.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “I learned from the best.”

“Okay, now that you’ve gotten your ego boost for the day, can we worry about my problem, please.”

He shrugs, crossing resting his left ankle atop his right knee, “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“What exactly is the problem, again?”

You sigh, and lean your head on Jean’s shoulder, “I have a boyfriend—”

“We’ve been over that.”

“—and the person I have a crush on is not my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he pauses, “Are you going to do anything about this crush?”

“Well, I… no,” you ponder, “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” he repeats, “So, then why are you so worked up about it?”

“Because!... Because… I don’t know, it’s… wrong? I’m in a relationship with someone else—isn’t this, like, emotional cheating?”

“Maybe,” he says, “I don’t know a whole lot about relationship psychology.”

“Come on, Jean.”

He sighs, “I’m serious, I don’t know, (_____).”

You whine, sounds muffled by the fabric of Jean’s sweater where your cheek lay pressed against his shoulder. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

“You’re not, stop it,” Jean answers firmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “You’re not horrible for having emotions that are difficult to work through.”

“Okay, then, I’m just a horrible girlfriend.”

“Maybe.”

“Jean.”

“Sorry,” he winces, patting your head for extra encouragement. It’s meant to be comforting, but it makes you feel like a patronized six-year-old, at best. It’s quiet for a while, with you mulling over Jean’s words, and him trying to pull you into the worst side hug in all of existence.

“Do you think,” you break the silence, “Maybe I should I break up with him?”

“Yes,” his answer comes too quickly, and much too enthusiastically.

You lift your head from his shoulder, unamused, but Jean doesn’t even try to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him.”

“No,” he pauses when he catches glimpse of the disbelief on your face, “Okay, yes, I don’t like him. At all.”

“Jean—”

“But maybe this is your subconscious telling you that you don’t like him either, and that you should, instead, go after your crush.”

“Oh, so now you want to use your psychobullshit on me?”

“If it means I don’t have to pretend to like Colt anymore, then yes,” he replies, a stupid, shit-eating grin on his lips.

You scoff, arms crossed against your chest, “You don’t even pretend to like him now.”

Jean shrugs, “I pretend to like him to his face.”

“No, you don’t,” you insist, “You’re probably the worst at it, in fact.”

“I’m not worse than Connie.”

“You called him an asshole. To his face.”

“Connie poured tequila on him.”

“Connie was drunk. You were completely sober.”

“Connie would have done it sober and you know it.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but the words fall silent in your throat. Connie probably would have done it sober. “Okay, fine, whatever, you don’t like him,” you wave away the subject, “Do you really think this crush is my subconscious telling me to break up with him, though? I mean—it’s just, crushes are kind of fleeting right?”

“Sure, but—”

“What if I break up with him, and then I get over my crush, and realize I made a mistake.”

“Then you learn and grow, and find a new crush.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he insists, “You’re beating yourself up pretty bad over this mystery guy—”

“—It could be a girl.”

“Is it a girl? Oh, is it Mikasa? Are you still hung up over her—you know I’m sure she’d make out with you asked. I think you both could relieve a lot of tension that way, actually.”

“You’re the worst person to walk this planet, you know that?” you sneer, annoyed by the smug grin on Jean’s face. So what if you had a tiny crush on Mikasa? Most people did, Jean included.

“Look,” Jean continues, “You and I both know you’re not a cheater, but you and I also know you’re just like Eren when it comes to things like this.”

“Just like Eren?”

“Falls too fast, too hard,” he clarifies, “I get the feeling you’ve had these feelings for a while, and that they’re not fleeting.”

You pout, and Jean knows that he’s right. “Okay, so say I do break up with Colt—”

“Which you should do, regardless.”

“—If we break up, then what? I still won’t know what to do with my left over grief. It’s not like I can just... go ask this guy out right away.”

“Yes, you can,” Jean presses, “In fact, you should.”

“No, I can’t,” you insist.

“Why not?”

“Well for one, I’ll look like a heartless whore.”

“You’re not a heartless whore for asking a guy out.”

“I am if I do it right after breaking up with my boyfriend.”

“Your internalized misogyny is showing,” he sing-songs, “Come on, you’re not a whore for doing what you want with a guy, you know that.”

“Okay, fine, not a whore, whatever,” you roll your eyes, “But I still couldn’t ask him out.”

“It’s the twenty first century, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t ask him—”

“Not because of that, dumb goose,” you glare, “I meant because—it’s, well, it’d be really sudden and kind of… awkward?”

“It’s not like he’d know you just broke up with someone, unless that’s one of your conversation starters.”

You sigh, a hand on your forehead. “Yes, he would, Jean.”

“How could he possibly—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mock, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you resume your previous sulking position, head leaning against his shoulder with your right cheek squished against his sweater.

“(_____), I’m honored, but you’re not really my type. I’d be willing to help you get over him though.”

“It’s not you, you fucking long-necked pigeon, it’s Arm—,” you cut yourself short, hands clamped over your own mouth.

“Oh my god!” Jean all but screams, propelling his body away from you with just enough distance to extend his arm, finger pointing directly at your chest, “You like Armin!”

“Shut up!”

“You have a crush on Armin!”

“Shut up, Jean!”

“You have a big, fat crush on Armin!”

“Shut up! I said shut up, you pasty fucking giraffe looking ass bitch!”

“Oh my—okay, you have to break up with Colt, immediately,” Jean rushes, “I can’t believe this—if you think Armin wouldn’t go out with you, then you really do have the intelligence of a single celled organism.”

“What in the ever loving fuck are you talking about.”

“We’re talking about the same Armin, right? Armin Arlert, about this tall,” Jean raises his hand significantly lower than Armin’s actual height, “Studies astrophysics, follows you around like a lap dog—”

“He does not,” you scoff.

Jean guffaws, “Didn’t he take you on a tour of, like… the NASA museum for your birthday? With the super high-tech planetarium that people die to get into?”  

“Actually, it was their headquarters, but it’s only because he gets special privileges for being an intern.”

“Didn’t he name a star after you?”

“Anyone can name a star after anyone,” you roll your eyes, “It’s really not that hard.”

“People do not fucking go to NASA and ask for stars for just anyone!” Jean screeches, hands flailing wildly.

“Armin does!”

“Yeah, for you!” Jean emphasizes, “Come on, do you think if anybody else called him right now and asked him to get a star in their name, or even just fucking take them to headquarters of the most renowned space organization in the country, that he would actually do it?”

“I mean, maybe, if like… Eren asked.”

Jean opens his mouth to refute, but freezes half way with a head-tilt and pursed lips. “Okay, yeah, maybe—whatever, doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to tell him.”

“I don’t need to tell him shit.”

“You’re seriously choosing Colt over Armin? Who willingly stays with some greasy prick with the world’s most annoying younger brother, over a handsome, straight-A astrophysics student with a penchant for marine biology, and, like, really clear skin.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know Bertholdt was studying astro.”

“I wasn’t talking about Bertholdt.”

“It sounded like you were talking about Bertholdt.”

“I mean, Bertholdt’s got great skin, but it’s no where near as clear as Armin’s. He glows.”

It’s quiet again, as you eye Jean with a raised brow that’s all too familiar. “Are we sure that you’re not the one with the crush on Armin?”

“Shut up, you’re avoiding the point.”

“What’s the point, exactly?”

“That you’re in love with Armin, who is miles better than your current boy toy, so you should ask him out immediately.”

“I have a boyfriend, not a boy toy.”

“Ah ha!” he yells, “You didn’t deny that you’re in love with him—oh my god, you’re in love with Armin!”

He’s standing now, practically bouncing off the the walls at the revelation. You take to smacking him with the nearest pillow. “I’m not in love with him! I just—just really like him, okay!”

“Very convincing.”

“Shut the hell up, you’ve been pining after you know who for seven eons at this point.”

“You bitch,” he growls, “We’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“Well, you keep bringing up Armin!”

“We never established that Armin was on the list of he’s who shall not be named.”

“Well I vote that he should be.”

“Your vote has been vetoed,” he grins, “Look, I’m completely serious when I say that Armin is just as in love with you as you deny you are with him.”

“That sentence hurt my head,” you pout, resuming your signature brooding position.

“It’s okay, your single brain cell has been through a lot in the past fifteen minutes,” he pats your head again, earning him a glare that he simply chuckles at, “All it means is that you love Armin, and I assure you that he’s equally, if not more, in love with you.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. Now, up, up, up,” he tuts, pulling at your biceps until you’re standing, only to immediately start ushering you to the door, “You have a shitty boyfriend to go break up with.”

“What—Jean, come on, I didn’t mean right now!” you exclaim; but he’s stronger than he looks, and continues to propel your body out of the open door.

“No time to waste!” he insists, “Every hour you stay with Colt you lose another brain cell.”

“I thought I only had one to begin with,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

It makes Jean’s grin triple, “Exactly, so go, not another hour to waste!”

“Jean, wait, I—,” you begin, only to be silenced by the silver door shutting in your face. The lock clicks soon after, and it’s only then you realized what he’s done.

“You knobby kneed bitch, this is my apartment!”

[h2bakugou]

Hi! Can I please request some headcanons for Izuku, Katsuki, Shouto, and Denki with an s/o who doesn’t like getting into arguments and will always try to avoid getting into one with their boyfriends either by compromising and/or just throwing in the towel and just admitting that whatever their boyfriend said is right and it’s because they didn’t have a great home life growing up and want to avoid becoming like their parents and the boys finding out and their reaction to that? Thanks!

a/n: hiya!! of course hun! i did a similar argument hc a while ago, but this one is vastly different in a few ways!! thank you for the request love!!

headcanon: them reacting to their s/o’s refusal to argue with them

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, some angst, one mention of sky high, endeavor is trying™

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Surprisingly enough, there are a good number of times you’ve had an argument arise with Deku.

Not the ones where you playfully tease him about not sitting with you on the long trips you took as a class to places.

But the ones where you’d find him training for hours on end with no text or call to let you know that he’d be running late for a date, or a study session.

The ones where he’s so caught up in everything else that he doesn’t really make time to focus on your relationship.

Which wouldn’t be that big of a deal, had he just told you upfront that he was busy. But with the promise of always finding a way to make time for you, you were beginning to feel like maybe there was someone else, or maybe he didn’t really like you, like you thought he did.

But even when you were upset or angry, and Deku cornered you to talk about it, you’d shut him out and tell him it was fine, and that it really wasn’t his fault. It was yours for being so devoted to a relationship during such a serious time.

But Deku knew it was more than that.

Every time you seemed upset, or angry, or frustrated by something that seemed like something he’d done or may have had a part in, you always shut him down, telling him you’d get over it like an adult, and handle it.

“You don’t have to handle everything by yourself, let’s just talk about it, why are you feeling like this? You can talk to me, you know I’ll listen.” Deku’s comforting arms wrapped around you, preventing you from leaving this time around.

He’d spent maybe a few too many hours trying to learn some new moves and forgot that he was supposed to text you after the first hour to check up on you and your studies.

And when he finally came back after a shower, he realized you’d sent him a few texts asking if he was okay and if he was going to be done training soon.

“It’s fine, Izu’. I have some work I have to finish-”

“It’s not fine. I upset you, I’m sorry. But please talk to me. Why are you always trying to dismiss what actually happened?” Deku tried to capture gaze, only to find your lashes sprinkled with tears as you gave a shaky breath.

“I just don’t want us to end up like my parents. All they did was fight and argue.” You’d never really told anyone about that. Let alone anyone you’d been in a relationship with. 

In that moment, all Izuku could do was hold you closer, laying his head in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry. I should take your feelings into account when I make promises to you. I apologize for not keeping those promises.” Deku pulled back and looked into your eyes.

“And please don’t be afraid to talk to me. I know that’s scary to think about, but if I make you upset, just talk to me, we don’t have to scream or fight, we can have a civilized conversation together about something, and if you feel like we can’t, we can always have our friends help if you’re comfortable with that.” Izuku smiled softly, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe your tears away.

You pushed a small smile onto your lips, resting your face back on his chest as he held you close.

“I’m sorry too.” You apologized.

“Don’t be, it’s okay. Why don’t we watch a funny movie and relax? I can make us some popcorn!” Izuku was ready with some cheesy hero movie on hand, probably one about some superhero high school with a magical flying bus and a protagonist whose parents were the top heroes, a plot you’d begun to see more and more often these days with the progression of hero society.

“Sounds like a plan.” You giggled.

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou argues with you because you won’t argue with him-

On a serious note, most of your ‘arguments’ start because he feels like you don’t trust him enough to talk to him about your feelings.

If you are upset with him for something, or if you feel an argument coming on, you’ll dismiss yourself, your feelings, say he’s right, and just back down.

And we all know Bakugou will not go down without a fight example a, the sports festival.

He gets defensive, if not a little more agitated when you don’t tell him what’s going on. Not that he’s entitled to know how you’re feeling constantly, but because if he’s going to be in a relationship, he wants communication between the two of you.

If there’s something you can’t communicate to each other, then it doesn’t need to happen or there’s a problem somewhere.

Which is why when you say that it’s nothing, or that you aren’t upset when he knows that that’s utter fucking bullshit, he gets angry. 

He won’t take his anger out on you, he’s not that kind of asshole. 

Even though he hates the assholes, he sometimes drops little clues to Kirishima or Sero.

But overall, he just wants to talk it out with you. He wants to understand what’s going on, why you’re feeling the way you are, what-if there’s anything-he can do differently to help you feel better or to prevent this feeling from happening again.

It all crumbles apart when Bakugou said he’d help you with some math homework that you’d be struggling on.

Only for him to be four hours late because he was sitting in detention for sparking a fight with some shit-talking smartass from a support class.

That night you had struggled to answer the problems on your homework, only to bomb the pop quiz on the same subject the next day. It was a mess, and you were upset.

Your grades of course were not Bakugou’s responsibility, but his responsibility was to at least give you a heads-up that the study session would’ve been moved, or cancelled.

Instead you stayed up way to late trying to understand problems that weren’t making any sense, and now your grade was sitting in a hole.

So you were upset. 

But when Bakugou questioned why you were so quiet around him, you just shrugged your shoulders.

“What gives? You not talkin’ to me or something?” Bakugou wasn’t exactly sure why you were mad at him until you packed up your things at the common room table, your low grade on the pop quiz and homework proving why you were in a bad mood.

And then Bakugou realized that was the homework he said he’d help you with.

“Shit, that was due Tuesday wasn’t it.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Yeah.” You mumbled.

“Hey what’s wrong with you? Did I do somethin’? Why you fuckin’ ignoring me and shit?” Bakugou’s fowl language was something you were used to. He wasn’t angry, he was confused, though his vocabulary could’ve fooled you.

“It’s nothing, you didn’t do anything, I’ve got to study to get this grade up, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You pushed on without another word, trying to escape back to your dorm.

At the mention of the word study, Bakugou then remembered the promised study session.

“Hey wait! I was supposed to help you do that shit, let’s go work on-”

“It’s fine, I got it. Go do whatever you want.” You didn’t look at him.

“No, now cut the bullshit let’s go study.” Bakugou tugged you up toward his dorm.

Inside you stood holding your things, your emotions beginning to bubble over as you watched him look for his bag, a stray bandage over his cheek from the punch the kid had thrown at him. Just staring at it made you upset.

“Why did you do it?” You asked quietly, your voice wavering.

“What? Do what?” Bakugou responded.

“I just wanted you to help me and...you-” You stopped yourself, realizing it was selfish to think it was Bakugou’s job to help you exceed in class. Shaking your head you held your things tightly and turned to leave.

“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well-”

“Bullshit, what the fuck is goin’ on with you? You’re upset, I know you are, what’s the problem?” Bakugou stopped you from leaving, almost forcing you to sit on his bed and explain why you were so distant.

“No- it’s not fair to you, I can’t do this, I can’t argue with you over something so stupid, I don’t want to end up like my fucking parents.” You were crying at this point, tears flooding from your eyes as you dropped your things, your books scattering across his bed as you fell into his arms.

“Are you talking about the fight? You have to communicate with me if you want me to help you. Can you at least tell me what you’re feeling?” Bakugou wanted to help, but with no information, there was little he could do.

“I was just so frustrated, because I was looking forward to studying, and then I found out you were in that stupid fight and I felt like I was all alone, like you’d deserted me and so I just tried to do it on my own and I messed up, and I felt like it was all your fault. I know it’s not. Had I just talked to you we could’ve studied and I would’ve done fine.” You broke down, sobbing into his warm embrace.

“I’m sorry. Just call me out on my bullshit, okay? It’s not right that you gotta’ be affected by my own stupid actions.” Bakugou tugged you back from him to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Why don’t we try and do a few practice problems to help you better understand the material?” Bakugou offered, stroking his thumb over your cheeks to wipe your tears.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

After some silence of Bakugou helping you work through the problems, you thanked him silently with a long hug, just resting your head on his chest. He didn’t ask any questions about the comment you’d made, he knew it was probably a sensitive topic.

But he’d be there when you were ready to talk about it.

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Todoroki doesn’t really like to argue, not like full on yelling and screaming at least.

If he’s having an argument, he’ll try his best to be civil about it, but sometimes he can get a little heated and possibly raise his voice.

He’s always been fairly outspoken, having to usually bide by someone else’s rules that he barely thinks for himself, but as of late, he’s doing himself a favor and being his own person, living by his own rules, and sometimes that means bucking up against others when they’re incorrect.

But when it comes to you, he can’t really see himself arguing with you, at least over little things.

However, he des find it rather upsetting that you didn’t mention you’d ran into his dad a couple days ago.

You’d just been out shopping and happened to bump into the pro and you said your hello’s, conversed for a few second about school before both continuing on with your day.

You didn’t think it was all that important, and for the most part you’d kind of forgotten about the entire incident.

You’d met Shoto’s father a few times before, which is why he recognized you as his son’s significant other.

So when Enji just so happened to mention the little meeting at a ‘family lunch’ on the weekend, Shoto was a bit surprised, and a bit concerned about the run-in.

Considering the first time Shoto introduced you to his father as his significant other, Enji was a bit opposed to the idea of his son having a relationship, but eventually he grew fond of you, thinking that it might be a good idea for his son to have something normal like a relationship, and go on dates, and live like a teenager.

Worried that he might’ve said something rude, Shoto brought it up in his room after eating lunch.

“Why didn’t you mention running into my father?” Shoto asked bluntly as he sat on his bed, watching as you straightened out your sweater.

“I didn’t really remember it when I came back to the dorms, it was quick, just said hi and talked about school for a few seconds before we went our separate ways.” 

“If it happens again just tell me, I don’t know what he’s thinking, just because he says he’s okay with us together doesn’t mean that’s what he really wants.” Shoto was almost dismissive of the fact that his father had actually just seen his son’s s/o in public, stopped to say hi and then get back to his busy day.

“It wasn’t anything like that, he seemed fine. He was busy, if he was upset it was probably just because he’d had a long day.” You lowered your voice, bowing your head before speaking again.

“I should’ve told you, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” You were on the offense now, leaving your old statement in the past.

“What? Be mad at you? I’m not mad, I’m just concerned.” Shoto stood up and walked over to you, quickly noticing how emotional you’d become.

“Hey did I say something wrong? Please don’t dry, what’s going on, talk to me.” Shoto lifted your chin only to see your eyelashes coated in tears.

“I’m sorry! You’re right I should’ve told you-”

“Hey, hey, shhh.” Shoto hugged you, his warm arms wrapping around you as he held you close.

“You don’t have to side with me, if he was nice I believe you. Are you alright?” He asked pulling away to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I just-I didn’t want us to argue or fight like my parents and I just didn’t want you to be mad-”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad, and we don’t have to argue, we’re just talking, we’re not arguing, okay? It’s okay.” Shoto comforted you, allowing his hands to rub your back.

“I’m sorry.” You cried softly as he led you back to his bed to sit.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay to feel differently than me, it doesn’t mean I’m mad or upset at you. I’m here to listen when you need me to, please don’t feel afraid to talk to me.”  

Lifting your head to look at Sho, you pushed a small smile onto your lips.

“Your hand is cold.” You nudged his right arm, his hand touching your skin under the hem of your shirt as he held you close to him.

“Sorry.” He smiled, wiggling his fingers to tickle you.

“Hey! They’re cold!” You laughed through your tears, trying to get away from his icy fingers.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You pressed a small kiss to the back of his right hand, his cool skin resting against your lips.

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Kaminari doesn’t argue- at least not with you.

He’ll accuse Kirishima of cheating on some first-person shooter game, or yell curses at Sero for blue-shelling him in Mario Kart.

But he’s never really argued with you about anything.

That doesn’t mean you’ve never had opposing views. Most of the time, Kaminari just listens and tried to understand how you feel.

But more recently, as you progress through school, he’s been doing weird things.

Training longer, forgetting to text you-and he always texts you.

It hurts your heart when you see him smiling and goofing around with Kirishima when today was your movie-night.

You’re not angry at him, you don’t own him for the day, he’s allowed to do other things, but you feel upset. You feel like he doesn’t care about your feelings.

So you head up to your room early, not even bothering to say goodbye to him.

Only about thirty minutes go by when he’s knocking on your door asking for you, asking if you’re feeling okay and why you went back to your room so early.

“I’m fine.” You lie, your expression was more than telling of that factor. You had a pout on your lips, your brows weren’t up and happy, and your eyes didn’t sparkle at the sight of your handsome boyfriend.

“You’re not! What’s goin’ on shawty?” Kaminari always uses humor to make you feel better, that’s just what he’s good at. He can be serious too, but he likes putting a smile on your face before he gets all serious.

“It’s nothing, you were having fun with Kirishima, I don’t want to interrupt.” And without meaning to, you’ve spilled exactly why you were feeling so upset.

Kaminari stares at you with his wide golden eyes, shaking his head as he practically tackles you through your dorm-room door frame into a hug.

Wrapping his arms around you he hugs you close and smiles.

“I didn’t ignore you! Kirishima just talks a lot.” Kaminari is quick to assume you were slightly jealous.

“I-I, no no you’re fine! Go have fun!”

“No. I’m staying with you.” Kaminari’s voice is a bit rougher this time, forcing the fact that he was going to spend time with you now.

After speaking he realized you’re crying. He quickly starts panicking, wondering if his stern ‘Bakugou’ voice scared you.

“Hey, hey! Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He’s rubbing your arms and trying to wipe your tears away as they flow from your eyes.

“I didn’t want us to argue-I was just feeling weird and left-out and I-I’m sorry for being so jealous over something so little and stupid, please don’t be mad at me, I don’t want to fight and bicker like my parents do.” You don’t realize Kaminari’s expression softening at the mention of your fear, becoming like your parents.

“I’d never yell or argue with you over something like that. It’s okay to feel jealous or hurt, just talk to me about it okay? I can’t help you if I don’t know how to. We can converse like this about things, it doesn’t have to escalate.” Kaminari is soothing surprisingly. His touch is gentle even though it wanders.

Holding your hands is a nice feeling, and he enjoys holding them. Rubbing his thumb over your knuckles relaxes you as you lean in to rest your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. I love you.” Kaminari kisses the top of your head and hugs you tightly.

“How about you pick out the movie this time! If it’s scary, you get the pleasure of cuddling into me!” Kaminari wiggles his brows.

“You were the one terrified to turn the lights off last time.” You giggle, lifting your head to wipe your eyes.

“I don’t remember that at all.” Kaminari teases, walking over to your bed to get comfy while you looked for a movie to watch.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don��t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

[1800-omi]

when you overhear him say he’s dating you only to make his brother jealous.

characters: miya twins

warnings: female reader, swear words

notes: i didn’t proofread besties sorry if there’s any errors 😔👊🏼

Osamu was walking down the school hallways beside his best friend, Sunarin when the conversation came up. They had been talking about school, then from school, they started talking about classmates then from that the subject changed to partners and dating. When Rintarou found out about his friend, he was obviously happy for him, yet he couldn’t help but wonder why his friend suddenly got into a relationship when he hasn’t shown any interest in dating someone for months. So, he decided to ask.

“So,” he put both his hands behind his head, his elbows pointing up, “Why’d ya do it?”

“Huh?” Osamu looked up at him, “do what?”

“You started dating YN so suddenly. It just seems so out of character for you to do.” He replied, “Or maybe my question should be, how you started dating her? Pretty much every boy in school has had his eyes on her at one point.”

Osamu chuckled at the question. “Well, I’ve got my ways when it comes to flirting and all that. As for why I did it,” a smirk grew on his lips as he thought about it. “Alright, listen, I’m only tellin’ you this ‘cause you’re my best friend, okay?” Rintarou nodded, unsure of what to expect next. “I started dating her because I wanted to make Atsumu jealous. He brags to me about girls he meets all the time, about how much his fangirls love him. The best way I could get back to him is if I started dating the girl every guy around here wanted.”

Suna looked at his friend wide-eyed before letting out a laugh, “oh my God, you’re evil!”

The conversation had kept your boyfriend’s attention away from the fact that while he was talking, he was passing your class. Having just gotten back from your lunch break, you did not expect to be overhearing this conversation. You felt crushed, used. You were ready to open up to him, good thing that you never did. As Osamu and his friend disappeared into the school’s halls, you put your hand over the necklace your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend had given you and made a decision. You would not be suffering over an asshole, not this time, not again.

That afternoon, after all the classes were over, Osamu waited for you at the school gates so you two could walk home together. You met him at the school gates, just like you always do. You two went on about your usual conversations as you walked home, homework, exams, family, anything normal couples talk about. You two soon enough arrived at his house, you walked him to his doorstep and instead of giving him the usual kiss on the lips, you decided to speak up.

“Atsumu’s kind of annoying, isn’t he?” you smiled at your boyfriend, he let out a ‘huh’ in confusion before you proceeded. “He’s always bragging about how girls want him, doesn't it make you want to get back to him in some way?”

With that, a frown appeared on Osamu’s face. Realizing that there was no way he could get out of this situation and still get to call you his, he gave up. “Who told you?” a part of him thought Suna had informed you, then again, he was the only one who knew besides Osamu.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Osamu? Honestly, I’m curious. Just how long did you think you could use me for?”

Hearing your monotone voice made him remember just how much you had done for him during the time he was dating you. Hearing your tone made him realise how much he’d lost, made him realise why everyone wanted to be with you in the first place. Most of all, it made him remember why when he first saw you, for a moment, he fell for you too. “Listen, YN, maybe I can make it up–”

“Oh, fuck off! You won’t make up shit.” you grabbed the necklace he had gifted you and ripped it off your neck, throwing it on the grass of the Miya family’s front yard. “You’ll have to find someone else to play your games with because we’re done, Miya. Please don’t talk to me again.” You turned around, feeling as if the heaviest weight has been lift off your chest. You finally feel at ease as you walk out of Miya’s property and make your way home. That day you left Osamu at his doorstep, you left him feeling broken and full of regret. One might say you left him the way you first met him.

Atsumu had told you he would be going out with his teammate Ginjima that day, what you hadn’t had time to tell him is that you would be going out to the town too.

He walked around the town’s shopping centre with a bubble tea cup in his hand, looking around the various stores. “Did ya know YN actually loves this place?” By the tone of Atsumu voice, it was clear to Gin that Atsumu was about to start another one of his annoying rants. “She always likes coming here with me. She says she likes the atmosphere. It’s classic girl stuff, I guess. Shopping and all that.”

“I don’t blame her, to be honest. There’s some really cool stuff ‘round here.” Ginjima replied, hoping that he would end Atsumu rant like that.

“I guess. She’s kinda annoying sometimes, always dragging me around to do stuff with her. I mean, I didn’t even start dating her because of me, y’know?”

Ginjima looked at Atsumu, what the fuck was he talking about? “No, I don’t know, Atsumu.”

“Oh, well, I actually started dating her because Osamu has a crush on her.” He admitted it so shamelessly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say, as if he did it every day. Gin didn’t know what to focus on, the fact Atsumu’s playing with this girl or the fact he’s hurting his twin brother’s feelings with it.

“Atsumu, you fucking–”

Ginjima was interrupted by your voice, you had greeted Atsumu and him as you grabbed Atsumu’s arm, smiling up at him. He wasn’t sure where you came from, whereas Atsumu, on the other hand, could recall you had been behind them and they hadn’t noticed until you talked to them.

Atsumu wasn’t sure whether you had heard what he said about you. His heart was beating a little quicker as he opened his mouth to reply. “H-Hey Yn! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Yeah, sorry about that! I forgot to tell you, babe.” You kept on smiling, putting Atsumu at ease. He let out a sigh out of relief, convinced you hadn’t heard them. “What were you two talking about?” You continued.

Before Atsumu could say anything, Ginjima answered for him, “Osamu has a crush apparently. Atsumu decided to tell me his secret like the horrible brother he is.” Gin wasn’t entirely sure why he decided to lie to you, but he wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity to blackmail Atsumu, was he?

“Don’t say than Gin! ‘Tsumu is a great brother and boyfriend!” you exclaimed, making Atsumu even more convinced that you hadn't heard him.

And with that, the went on continued normally. The three of you wandered around the shopping centre before eventually deciding to split up, leaving you and Atsumu to walk home together. He had invited you over to his house, saying he's home alone this weekend. As you entered the house and sat on the couch there was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you. After your boyfriend sat next to you, you finally spoke up about what had been bothering you ever since you saw him at that mall.

“You know that you’re an asshole, right, Atsumu?” he turned his gaze at you, surprised. “Do you have any idea–”

Feeling the need to make up an excuse, Atsumu interrupted you. “Listen, babe–”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me!” you slightly started raising your voice, “You know, I’m glad that you got to go around and tell all your friends about how much of a player you are! While I was busy being called a slut and a whore for dating you!”

“What? Who the fuck was calling you a whore?”

“Your fucking fangirls, Atsumu,” you said his name with such disgust in your voice, and he noticed. “And you would've fucking known if you ever cared enough to listen. I guess I don't blame you for never listening, then again, I was just a little game so that your brother would get jealous.”

“YN, hear me out here, ”

“No, Atsumu, there is nothing for me to hear. We’re done, we’re over.” You weren't sure whether there was anything else to say to him, you didn't want to argue with him either.

“Fuck you, Atsumu Miya,” you said as you got up and stormed out the door.

At that moment, Atsumu had just shaken his head and continued about his day normally. He knew you would found out eventually, so he has promised himself he wouldn't become attached to you. What he didn't know is that he has broken that promise the second you had first kissed his lips, every time he saw you walking down the hallways at school he felt his heart slightly ache, as if it was becoming smaller. When he saw you blushing as his twin brother confessed to you under the big cherry blossom tree at the school’s backyard, he felt the same feeling. Now when he sees you holding his brother's hand, he still feels the same, hurt, aching, and as if his regret is ready to drown him.

reblogs are appreciated <3

[restapesta]

them playing truth or dare

Tami had been the one to suggest it.

Ian found it weird that everybody just went along, minds still sane and all, eager to comply and play as if they weren't all full-blown adults with marriages and children; but a few beers in—sans Lip who was sporting a Diet Coke—maybe it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise; the kids were otherwise occupied, Liam was at a sleepover, the Gallagher house was free for them, and them only.

Maybe Ian shouldn't have balked at his husband who had enthusiastically said yes! to playing truth or dare, as if they were all a bunch of teenage girls, begging for their crushes to be revealed. Ian watched Mickey from the corner of his eye as he took a shot of vodka that had been haphazardly lying on the table for communal use—great, Ian would be getting drunk Mick tonight. They'd probably have to crash at the house. Even Ian had a beer to drink and he got hammered pretty fucking quick.

"Okay," Tami said loudly, shushing the small crowd of people who were sitting all around the living room, speaking in a frenzy, voices mushing in together so it wasn't even conversation, just fucking loud and incoherent. Her hair was clinging wildly to her sweaty forehead, strands flying around as if electrocuted, and Ian realized this was the first time after her second pregnancy she was able to really get drunk. He applauded her for it, hoping she was having a great fucking time. Over a year of abstinence and he'd go fucking crazy, probably.

Ian couldn't help but guiltily look at his brother from the corner of his eye as if he'd been able to read his thoughts. He only looked away once Mickey elbowed him, whispering lowly how Ian should probably slow down with the drinks. Wouldn't want you to faint in ten fucking minutes and need me to drag you back home, said the man that was drunk off his ass.

Even inebriated he worried.

"Hey!" Tami shouted until all eyes went to her and the voices drowned out, dissipating into murmurs, one of them being Ian telling his husband that, it was so cute you're worrying about me, earning himself a middle finger in the face. She continued, seemingly pleased with herself for shutting a bunch of Gallaghers up, a feat not easily accomplished (what she didn't know was that everybody was still talking, just discreetly enough for her to not hear).

"Since I was the one who came up with the idea," She said proudly as if playing truth or dare was the smartest, coolest idea ever. "I think I should have the honors of starting."

Lip snorted beside her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're drunk but okay." His head was shaved off completely, prompted by lice Fred had brought back home from day-care.

They were both sitting on two cushions on the floor, leaving Debbie on the sofa near the door, and Carl on the couch next to Ian and Mickey. His Coke can was so close to his leg, just begging to be spilled. Ian fought the urge to tell him to just move it to the side, but well, everybody else was practically drunk, so it didn't seem too fair. He was forced to endure a bunch of assholes while sober; the least they could do was offer him more Cokes and leave him to ruin his stomach in peace while they all ruined their livers.

"Shush!" Tami swatted at him, a concentrated look on her face. "We're playing."

Lip raised his hands in surrender just as Ian turned to whisper into Mickey's ear, "This is gonna be a shit show."

It was Mickey's turn to shush Ian, swatting him gently on the arm, focus solely on Tami and her upcoming question. He looked genuinely interested in what Tami had to ask—maybe he was looking forward to some juicy questions. Ian thought she'd be the one to ask the blandest ones.

"We're playing," Mickey said once Ian leaned in again to tell him just that, and Ian just shook his head lightly, biting his lip to stop from smiling.

Tami moved her eyes from her boyfriend all the way to Debbie who was fucking around on her phone, typing away slowly. Ian knew she was paying attention, but he also knew that her new girlfriend and their "relationship problems" probably exceeded the game right now.

"You ready, Debbie?" She asked, eyes dropping in sympathy. "This first one's for you. You said you needed to get your mind off of things."

Debbie lifted her eyes from her phone, eyebrows going up, biting her lip. She shut the screen off and crossed her legs, nodding to herself. "Shoot."

"Okay, so—"

"—What’s the most embarrassing thing that turns you on?"

Lip groaned along with Ian at the question. It didn't matter if they all knew everything and anything about each other's sex lives—Debbie talked about hers in a way that not even Ian and Mickey do. So Ian just squirmed in his seat, grimacing and then shooting a glare towards his husband who snickered at his facial expression, and they all sat and waited for their sister to start talking about sex as if they were begging to hear about it. Ian was mentally preparing for having his ears bleed.

"Hmm," She said. "Probably thighs."

They collectively blew out grateful breaths that she didn't feel the need to explain her answer. Ian still squirmed, because, well—why the fuck did he need to have that in common with his little sister?

"Carl," Debbie said, fiddling with her phone again. She probably got a new message she would need to send a ten-paragraph rant over. "What's the worst thing about sex, in your opinion?"

Ian eyed Carl beside him as he shrugged. "Not getting any."

It was Mickey who reached over Ian to clap him on the shoulder, grin wide on his face. He really was drunk. "Good answer, kid."

Ian turned to look at him, face scrunching in confusion. They literally had sex before they came over. "What are you talking about? You haven't spent a day in the past, like, four years not get any."

Mickey shrugged, sipping on his beer. "There were times I wasn't gettin' any."

Ian rolled his eyes. He knew Mickey inside, out—that man always got some, whether it be with Ian or without. So he asked, "When?"

Mickey looked at him, eyes clearer than before, still drunk but sober enough to answer Ian's question earnestly.

He cleared his throat, then sucked on his teeth when he saw Ian really was looking for an answer.

When the fuck did Mickey ever do celibacy shit?

"Look, man," He said. "sex," He annunciated the word. "isn't really the same when it's not with the person you want it to be with. It's weird and mechanical, and knowing what sex you could be having instead of the robotic fucking makes you hate it." He looked over at Carl. "I get what you mean by not getting any because I hadn't seen Ian for two fucking years before prison, and most of that time I just thought I'd have miserable, loveless sex for the rest of my life, so," He shrugged, again, settling back into the cushions. "Not getting any isn't just not having sex. It's not having sex with the only person you want to have sex with because you'll never see them again for the rest of your life."

"So," Lip started, a teasing air around his words. "Pointless fucking equals not getting any, and lovemaking with Ian here equals you bitches are soulmates?"

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, fuck you."

He then, probably noting how Ian was staring at him, completely flabbergasted, met Ian's eyes.

There was a second of them just staring at one another, Mickey's eyes quickly going up and down Ian's form in the most loving/sexual way, before he averted them to Carl again. "Come on, man, who's next?"

Carl grinned wickedly. "Ian,"

"Yeah?" He finally forced himself to stop staring at Mickey who was now placing his hand soothingly over his thigh, silently saying, You know what I meant. I know you know what I meant.

Carl's question was quick.

"Do you believe you and Mickey are soulmates?"

Ian's right eyebrow went up—he'd been practicing after a heated discussion with Mickey at three am on a Wednesday about who had better eyebrows. He was a sore loser.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well," Carl said. "You've just broken up more number of times than I've had girlfriends—"

"We've always come back to each other," He interrupted, tone defensive; slightly frustrated. Mickey's hand squeezed, warm through the fabric of Ian's sweats.

"Yeah, but—"

"There's no question about it, Carl. If there's anybody in this world that's literally meant for me, it's Mickey. I've loved him since the very first day I met him, and I'll love him until the day I die." He meant it with every bone in his body and he just wished somebody would put it in question again, after all they had been through. Wasn't that proof fucking enough that if there's anybody in this world Ian loves more than Mickey, it's Mickey loving Ian back?

"That answer' your question?" He asked, chin jutting out.

His hands went up in surrender as he lowly whistled. "Got it, chief."

"Yeah, Ian," Tami said, eyes rolling animatedly. "We get it—you love each other most in the world, blah, blah, barf."

Mickey choked out a laugh. "Come on, Red," He said, looking again towards Ian, gaze soft. "Next question."

So they played on.

[raekahwritings]

BNHA Gods AU - Thanatos - Shindou Yo

GODS AU! - What kind of shitty god are you?

Pairing: Shindou You x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Minors, DO NOT ENTER.

Warning: NSFW, Mentions of non-consent, slight blood/gore/murder,slight yandere.

Word Count: 2016

Authors Note: This was written in one night, I really wanted to make it in time for this collaboration despite everything going on right now. I hope you all can forgive me since this wasn’t proof read but hopefully you all can enjoy the Gods!AU Shindou!

GODS!AU Collaboration: Please check out the collab here from @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

The age of gods was long over. They no longer walked this earth. No one worshipped them; they became the words of fiction and stories.

Let the gods guide you.

Live your life well and the gods may reward you.

Do not turn away from the path of good, lest the gods punish you.

Where were the gods when you needed them? When your mother had dressed you up as a pretty doll, when you smiled and jumped in the excitement of a new dress, and when she had shown you to a portly older gentleman. He took you, none-too-gently, and placed a bag of coins into your mother’s palm. She had left brusquely, curtly, and took care not to look you in the eyes.

How long had it been since then? Your childhood had gone by in the mess of yelling, screams, and scullery work. When you were old enough? You now lay on the floor with your clothing strewn apart, dried tears on your face and a voice hoarse from screaming.

This was a life where no gods deigned to visit—this was a place of vileness, sordidness, and loathsome men. You were nothing more than a commodity to them—they had no qualms about leaving you on this dirty floor.

God, you had prayed so many times. Save me.

You’d been delivered to them, lent like broken toy until they called the brothel master to fetch you.

You had been defiled too many times to believe that any God would help you now.

Where were you? What had they consecrated this time? They had laughed and they had jeered while you had cringed at the blasphemy they spewed. They had taken their belts to mark you, left you bleeding, and then poured acridly old liquid, “—better hope this fucking holy water works.”

“They would laugh at this.” You blinked away the tears, blinked to see the dormant idolatry of Thanatos nearby. You scrabbled at the ground, trying to find a perch to lay your hands on so you could get up. You winced at seeing the dried blood and spilt fluids. If there was a moment for Thanatos to judge you, this would be now.  

But would he?

Gods had come and gone, with nary a care. You tried to stand, tried to ignore the mess they had made, and you glared at the idolatry. “You didn’t stop this.” You pointed to the empty room – “You’re supposed to be some merciless, hateful god of death.” You scoffed, knowing it was pathetic. Here you were, reaching a level of desperation to talk to some useless piece of stone and an empty room like it would answer you. But all the resentment, anger, and bitterness spewed out – here and now— you hissing, “You’re a fucking piece of shit god.”

And yet.

“If my life was enough of a price, would you come here and now? Or am I too dirty for someone like you? You want a precious little girl, an innocent naïve little sheep?” You furiously took the idol, glaring before slamming it as hard as you could to the floor. Take that, you fucker.

You watched the idol shatter into pieces, the useless stone rolling away. You should fear your own blasphemy and yet… satisfaction had you feeling smug.

“My, my, that doesn’t seem very nice.”

Holy fuck. You whipped around—the room was empty. When had someone come in? You nearly screamed at the mysterious voice, your arms reaching out to blindly shove at the culprit while you stumbled backwards.

A masculine hand caught your arm, tsking at you and he emerged from the shadows with a disappointed look. You nearly fell backwards but his iron clasp had you standing upright.

“Who are you?” Shock and fear colored your tone, the smugness was fleeting as you look to the door, a door that hadn’t budged since the scraggle of men had left earlier. How did he get in? You looked at him, swallowing nervously, your gaze flitting up and down to make out this stranger in the darkness.

“You called me and yet, you still ask me?” He stepped further into the firelight… You looked up at this dizzyingly tall man, you could make out the messy, dark locks framing his chiseled face. But more so, you found yourself staring into eyes the color of pure jade. He was far too handsome, his features bold and brooding, the stubble on his face giving him a heathenish look. He was broad and lean, the muscles of his arms and chest visible through his disheveled shirt.

Someone who made you stop breathing.

“No.” You breathed— “You’re lying.” You called no one, he was here to take you back to the brothel, you tried to wrench your hand pathetically away. He couldn’t fool you, no matter how handsome he was.

“Calm down.” He pulled you into his chest, you were the one falling forward as he stopped your mewling struggles. You heard those words countless times; it had always preceded the acrid smell of chloroform…

“I don’t want to go back.” You choked out, letting your wrists fall slack. “I don’t want this.”

His voice lilted up, questioning. “Go back where?” You could almost believe the sincerity in his voice, the confusion, the perplexity of the situation. But people loved playing with you, toying with you in these games— men liked playing with women as if it were a game of cat and mouse. You curled your fingers into your palms, once again trying to suppress any kindle of hope—because you inevitably always were sold back.

Meanwhile, Thanatos, the god you had summoned with your blood, piety, and holy water—looked heavenwards in frustration. “Girl, speak your name.” He commanded—you answered obediently.

How? You didn’t mean to answer him.

“I am Thanatos. Now speak plainly. I’ve heard your desperate cry for help, for vengeance.” He leaned back against the stone table, tugging you into his lap. “Now can we dispense with the formalities? I’d much rather you call me Shindou instead.” You found yourself caged in—your chest against his bare one as he gestured for you to look up. “You summoned  me. And while I normally ignore mortals…” He let his hand fall loosely to your back—you stiffened, squirming—as his calloused fingers brushed against the filth on your skin, the torn scraps of fabric that hid nothing from his gaze.

“I was personally interested in this offering of yours.” You stilled. There had been no one in the room with you to hear your vitriol words—but this was the temple of Thanatos. Could it be?  “Oh. You don’t believe me?” You looked doubtful. Well he couldn’t blame you. His lips curved, expecting this reaction. He waved a hand in the air, letting the firelights flicker to black and purple flames, letting it dance across the room hauntingly for you. You watched transfixed. “But parlor tricks? A dime a dozen.” He said dismissively. He tapped the table, a prompt for the shadows around you to contort menacingly and snaking up your legs.

You jumped more into his arms, away from the strangely prying and invasive shadows as it crawled disturbingly high up your body.

“Girl, they’re simply an extension of me.” You could hear the humor in his tone, see the shadows snake away as he chuckled at your close contact with him. “But I suppose I can be nice for a bit.” He let the darkness recede and the orange firelight to flicker back.

“Now that’s settled, may I discuss your price?” You… took a moment to blink, to really focus on him. Something about him, the closer you were, was making your senses hazy. He seemed to realize, crooning gently to you. “Oh baby, I know gods are supposed to be tempting to mortals and all that but where’s the little spitfire that threw a little tantrum at me? I quite enjoyed it.”

The haze dissipated a bit. You… had thrown down the idolatry, you had committed blasphemy in the actual face of a god. You wanted to die, the shame overwhelming you. Thanatos—no, Shindou simply laughed though—“Baby, don’t think of me as one of the pious assholes. I don’t need you to prostrate yourself to me and those hopeless,” he waved at the ostentatious ornaments adorning the room, “piece of shit, ugly crap of me. I’m a lot more handsome in person, don’t you think?” You couldn’t disagree.

This kind of man—God, you corrected yourself—exuded charisma, aura, sexuality that vibrated with your own being. Like you were made for him, your body melted against his light touch.

“Demon got your tongue? I can fix that.” Shindou cradled the side of your face, leaning in to press a kiss. You gasped, giving him an opportunity for his tongue invade your mouth—ravishing and giving you no air to breathe. He reached down to anchor your hips against his, drawing you more into his lap and letting his hardness press into your dampened, slickened ache between your thighs.

But you were dirty and filthy. You pushed him, and he let you, you knew his strength far outstripped yours. “I can’t.” You shook your head. “You must’ve seen what happened…” It wasn’t just one disgusting man, it was many who had left you sticky and ruined with their fluids on your unwilling body.

Even now.

“Seriously? Shindou sighed. He tutted at you like a child—which as a mortal, you must’ve been. “I came all this way out for your offering, for this delectable and luscious body and you dare to impugn me with your sense of shame?” He cocked his head. “Like I didn’t know? All those men…” He parted your legs, let the sticky fluid drip. “All those men, and they didn’t break your spirit. You come to me, fiery and burning with revenge, and I answered your call. What could be more attractive than this?” Albeit… Shindou did frown. “I don’t care for those worms to mark what’s mine. I guess they all have to die, wont they?”

Your eyes widened… your words caught. You wanted to protest—the mocking feeling of horror should’ve come at the thought of such senseless murder and death…. But you could only feel the sense of relish, of pure desire to see the blood of your captors. You bit your lips, futilely trying to hide your anticipation and eagerness.

“Ah, that’s my girl. I knew you and I would get along.” Shindou pulled down the rags of your dress,  watched your nubile body pull close to his and you shivered—his hardness grinded against you—a god like this wanted you. You could hardly believe it. You whimpered as he bit down your throat, bit at the junction of your shoulders while you bled. He licked the bloody trail down your ample breasts, swirling his hot tongue around the hardened peaks and making you arch in muted pleasure.

“Oh no, you can’t stay quiet.” He let the shadowy tendrils return, let it wrap around your throat and craning your neck backwards. His hands traced over your slickened breasts, pinching, pulling, vibrating as you screamed in pleasure and pain. “Sounds quite nice.” He mused, condescendingly. His hands eventually travelled to your taut thighs, teasing the inside of them, and drawing them further apart.  His fingers brushed against the dirty cum—he didn’t care for it but he supposed he’d just have to fuck you enough so you’d be dripping with his own cum—all the more reason to cleanse this lustful, vengeful darling of a human.

He had waited for someone like you. Other gods deigned to have their innocent little virgins on their sacrificial alter.

He wanted a tainted, corrupted human whose lust rivalled their desire for revenge—a human he could turn into his little fuck toy of a god, one who would stand by his side as he ruled over mayhem, murder, and death. Preferably, begging for his cock and drunk on cum – not a bad start, he mused. Not a bad start.

[jenojaemssss]

nct dream as your boyfriend

nct dream x gn!reader

fluffy boyfriend!nct dream headcanons because it's 2 am and i'm all up in my head <3 also because i have no motivation to work on dont need it and am holding it off as much as i possibly can before finalizing it <3

lee mark

just the softest boy

we already know he really enjoys playing the guitar

so i feel like he’s the type to wake up at like 3 in the morning with a melody in mind

like he wakes up in cold sweat because he has such a good idea and he CANNOT forget it

he’d record a snippet of it and send it to you after he perfects it

but this is rare because he’d rather hear your reaction

mark isn’t the type to facetime; he’d rather just call you or just come over to see you in person

so a lot of the time you’d get an incoming phone call

at 3 in the morning

because he forgets the time when he’s immersed in his craft

and because it’s a phone call, he can’t see you squinting at your phone

but you’d try your best to not make it obvious that you were already asleep

and then he’d go on and on about how he was in the middle of writing something and thought about you

his voice literally just wakes you up because he’s so excited over his creation

“ready to hear it?”

and after playing it for you he’d have the widest, goofiest smile on his face

he’d be so proud of yourself after you give him a personal round of applause

but his grin doesn’t stay on for long because there’d be banging on his wall from his housemates telling him to shut up

this happened so often that they don’t even have to say anything, just forcefully tap their wall and he’d get the hint

usually then, he’d finally realize how late-or technically, early- it was getting

“ah shit, fuck were you sleeping when i called?”

and you’d just chuckle because he’s so damn cute

and then you’d remind him how much you love and enjoy his hobby

and how it makes you happy getting to listen to him play his guitar

“you do know you don’t have to pick up, right?”

but you’d just smile even wider and he could hear it over the phone and he’d smile too

your smile is so endearing to him

and when he was the reason you’re smiling, it sends him through the clouds

because how could HE be the cause of such a beautiful smile

“hey, baby?”

“yeah, mark?”

“i love you.”

and you’d giggle so hard because he still gives you butterflies

“i love you, too, mageolli.”

“bro, did hyuck teach you that?” he squeaks

another bang on his wall makes him jump and he ends up whispering to you for about another hour

huang renjun

this man loves to read, so whenever he’s reading a book he really likes, he’d annotate it with the intentions of giving it to you

sometimes he’d highlight funny things and write little notes like “this made me laugh and i thought you’d like it too”

so fucking endearing let me tell you

and when he comes across romantic lines, he’d highlight them in pink and write little notes on how it reminded him of you

when he’s done with the book and gives it to you, you’d find cute little highlighted portions with notes and messages directed for you

sometimes, he’d write you cute little messages on the inside cover, kind of like an introduction to his annotations

he’d also write a mini introduction to the content of the book, but in his own cute way

“i found this book really funny (those funny scenes are highlighted in yellow) and there were a lot of scenes where the interactions between the two main characters reminded me of you and i, so those are highlighted in purple”

and a bunch of other notes related to his annotations

the back cover has a mini summary and all his personal thoughts after finishing the book

“could they BE anymore stupid? he should have confessed to her when…” and many more angry-renjun reactions

there was one time he was reading pride and prejudice and came across this line

“in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.”

he was about to pull out his highlighter and smear the bright pink across it but pauses

and then he just slams the book closed because he remembers how much of an asshole mr. darcy was in this book

and how much he hated pride and prejudice

he was only reading it again because you asked him to read it with you

the two of you often picked out your favorite books and had the other one read it and discuss it with each other after you both finished

kind of like a personal book club

this time around you picked this wretched book and he was not having it

but then you pulled out the puppy eyes

he gagged in front of you and asked that if he’d read it with you, you wouldn’t pull that shit again

internally he loved it, he just doesn’t like showing it physically

anyways, after slamming the book shut he stood up from the couch but was so pissed off with the fucking book that he called you

“babe, why is lizzy so fucking idiotic?”

you’re just as confused as he is, but for a totally different reason

“i know we’re supposed to discuss when we’re finished but i just cannot read this book anymore.”

lee jeno

the type of boyfriend that has a really hard time expressing his feelings in words

so he’d show it in his actions instead

his love language is most likely physical touch

but at the same time he seems like the type to not enjoy too much physical affection in public

yet he still needs to be touching you: always

just small gestures to keep in physical contact with you

it reassures him that you’re still there

in public, he’d make an effort to hold pinkies

like he’d interlock them when you’re walking around the grocery store or just when you go on walks together

oh yeah, jeno really likes walks

like when the two of you are having a really rough day or when you’re both just not in the best mood, he’d ask to go on walks to clear your minds

it’s his way of telling you that he’s there for you

on the rough days, instead of holding your pinky, he’d intertwine your hands instead

and when you guys argue over things and he doesn’t know what to say, he’d leave the room for a bit so that you don’t say things you don’t really mean to each other

jeno is a good man, he was raised right

so he KNOWS when he’s at fault

and when he realizes what he’s done and takes all the things you say into consideration, you’d hear the sink running or the vacuum turn on

he’d clean your apartment for you as an apology

back to the physical touch aspect of him

rare *public* back hugs here and there but only around people he’s comfortable with

but when you’re alone??

he would literally CLING onto you, personal bubble does not exist to this man

wraps his arms around your waist when you cook or do the dishes, playing footsies when you eat, all of that

sometimes when you’re both on the couch doing work on separate laptops he’d make it a literal mission to be in physical contact with you

like even if it interferes with his work, he’s gotta be touching you

he’d have one leg thrown over your torso if your hands are too busy with something

it’s really endearing because if you moved at all, like even just a little and he wasn’t able to have a part of his body on yours, he’d start pouting

he’d reach his arms or legs out in a grabbing motion and not say anything

and then you’d have to reposition yourself so that the two of you would be able to work and he still be able to touch you

and his smiles, the fucking smiles when he gets to hold your hand after you guys finish working on whatever you needed to work on

his cuddles are top tier too, and he’d make sure you guys get at least 30 minutes of cuddles a day

lee donghyuck

the whiniest, most annoying (but adorable) boyfriend ever

like jeno, he needs to be in physical contact with you, but instead of quietly pouting or reaching for you, he’d YELL

“y/n! hold my hand!”

“but i’m typing-”

“babe, hold my hand!!!!” *intense pouting*

he normally drops it when he knows you’re actually busy, but when he knows you’re just watching a movie or something, he keeps pestering you until you hold his hand

and when you do, he takes the opportunity to POUNCE on you like he just deadass lays on top of you

and you let him because it’s actually really comforting having his weight on top of you

NOSE KISSES!!!!!! lots of those

and forehead pecks

it goes both ways, though, because he likes receiving those too!!!!! fairness!!!!!

he’s the type to play tricks on you, but never takes it too far because he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way

and he spoils you a lot

like not with materialistic things (though sometimes he does) but more with arguments and when it comes to picking what to do/eat for the day

he’s the type to always think before his actions, yet when he’s around you, all logic is thrown to the side

“you wanna go bungee jumping? bet!” (even though he’s afraid of heights)

he gets two of everything when he goes to the store; one for him and one for you

and when you first started dating, you got a bit shy because of this due to the fact that he’s spending extra on you

you felt bad he was spending extra money so whenever you were buying things, you followed his habit and do the same thing

and for the first couple months he’d say that it’s fine and everything but when you both got really comfortable around each other, he’d be really witty with his comebacks

“no, i don’t wanna share with you” or “pay me back then”

sometimes the casual, “no, you’re gonna eat all of it and leave me nothing”

soon enough, the two of you fell into the habit of buying two of everything wherever you went (besides the things that you both know the other person hates)

also, when you first started dating, a lot of it was just casually hanging out at a park or walking around a random neighborhood and getting food nearby

street food you can take on the go >>>> food from fancy restaurants

and also, when you first started getting snacks for each other and he didn’t know what you liked, he got one of everything

like for example, the first time you guys had a movie night at your place, he went to the store but didn’t know what brand of chips you preferred so he bought both kinds

(he learned that day what your favorite snacks and brands were and he remembered it forever)

na jaemin

HUGS!

jaemin is the king of hugs, like no one, absolutely NO ONE can beat him when it comes to hugs

they’re always so warm and he always knows whenever you need one

he’s kind of like a battery pack, so whenever you hug him, you feel recharged and energized

because all his hugs are full of love and you can literally feel it radiating off of him

“jaems, i need-”

you can’t even finish your sentence because he’s already engulfing you

“i know, baby”

sometimes you’d tease him and say things like, “i was gonna ask for some water” or some shit like that and he’d get all pouty

and when he’s about to let go, you just pull him into you more

so obviously, he’s another fan of physical affection

but unlike jeno and hyuck, he’s not quite the clingy type

he will give you your space and will not invade your personal bubble, but instead just show that he’s there by doing other things

whenever he sees that your water glass is half empty, he’d go refill it

would always ask if you wanted a snack

would feed you his food when you were busy working on your laptop

just little actions to show that he’s paying attention to you

you pick up on his habit and slowly become more tentative too

he’s also the type that shows the overprotective type of affection too

like, when it gets cold and he notices you shiver a little, he’d immediately take off his sweater/hoodie/jacket, whatever, and give it to you

or whenever your clothes seem to be bothering you, he’d offer you his shirt or pants or anything for you to feel more comfortable

he really enjoys cooking for you, so you’d have little cooking dates every once in a while where he teaches you a recipe or you teach him something

and it always either ends up in a disaster or a really appetizing success, no mediocre food in this household

the disasters are normally when you’re in charge of the cooking because you get distracted by jaemin’s crackheadery

he talks to the fucking vegetables and asks them how their day was before chopping them up, like what the fuck?

the normally tentative jaemin gets distracted because he’s making you laugh

he loves hearing you laugh, so he keeps doing what he’s doing to get to hear it more

so sometimes you forget you’re boiling something, you forget there’s something on the stove and shit starts spilling out

you’re both panicking and looking for the fire extinguisher

jaemin just ends up smacking it with whatever he’s holding and the flames go out and you both end up laughing and rolling around on the floor for the next 10 minutes

zhong chenle

can be the most evil or the most adoring boyfriend, there is no inbetween

like some days, he’d tease you to the point you ignore him while other days he’s all cuddly, snuggled up against you while hyping you up like you’re some sort of insta baddie

but a constant is that he will ALWAYS call you cute

you say something stupid? “cute.”

you CALL him stupid? “how cute!”

you drop your phone in the toilet? “cute.”

he has an obsession with that word, but it doesn’t really bother or annoy you because you really like hearing him say it

even when you guys play video games

you’re both beast at battle royale games, so you’re both constantly playing with one another

you guys normally don’t play when you see each other/ meet up because you spend that time doing other quality couple things

like bicker over what to order or where to get boba from for the day

so instead you guys normally play video games together at 3 in the morning after finishing up all your work for the day

whenever you’d knock down an enemy, you’d hear him from the other end of the phone shouting things like, “y/n that kill was so sexy!” (he picked that up from jaemin)

when you make noises after either missing or hitting your target, he’d chuckle to himself and mumble a little, “cute.”

soon enough you’re also picking up the habit and calling him cute all the damn time too

at first, he insisted that you stopped calling him cute because it was HIS line

“babe, i know i’m adorable, but stop calling me cute.”

“no.”

more bickering because he is so persistent

eventually got used to it and you two would have little squabbles over how the other is overusing it when you're BOTH doing it

not normally the type to be showing physical affection, but will cuddle when he’s sleepy

he feels safe when he’s holding you so he’s at peace and can fall asleep easily

he probably likes petting your hair when he’s the big spoon, and likes it when you pet his hair when he’s the little spoon

OMG WAIT he’s probably the type to have you lay on his lap (or vice versa) and just play with your hair (or have you play with his hair)!!!!!!!

like y’all are just chilling on the couch watching some basketball game and he just lays on your lap out of nowhere

“time for human contact!”

you’d just laugh and start combing your hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and ends up falling asleep

park jisung

the best friend type of boyfriend where the most couply thing you end up doing is going yo the zoo and feeding animals

he really likes when you guys go to the gift shop and play with the little toys they have

he’s super interested in the little things and is fascinated by everything big and small

you find that shit so cute and secretly take pictures of him staring at the miniature figures of lions

he catches on after seeing you changed your wallpaper to a picture of him holding a giraffe puppet and having it look at him

he holds your finger when you walk around so that you both don’t get lost

but his hands are really big compared to yours, so you switch to holding his finger instead and he physically melts because he thinks it looks so cute

i think your typical dates are the ones that involve a lot of walking around BECAUSE of the fact that you hold onto his finger

(jk, but like...he just thinks it’s really cute)

(so much so that it becomes a habit when you’re just hanging out)

(watching a movie? here, hold my finger. grocery shopping? here, hold it.)

you guys go to the amusement park often too

you hold onto each other’s fingers and wander around the park looking for rides that jisung can ride because he's scared of action

but you like roller coasters, and jisung always feels bad because you never ride them when you two go together

so one time, when there was one you really wanted to go on but you knew it would have scared jisung

so you decided to pass up on it because you didn’t want to leave him alone

but he was noticing how your eyes kept lingering on the coaster and he broke

“y/n, i’ll go on it with you”

and you’re shocked because you didn’t even say you wanted to go on it, like you just looked at it but he caught on

and you tried to brush it off and insisting that you could go on a ride you both liked

but he was so stern about it because he knew how much you wanted to go on it

i think he’s the type of boyfriend that normally gets over his fears when he is encouraged by his partner, and in this case, his form of encouragement was making you happy

he just likes seeing you happy in general

so internally, he’s hyping himself up while you’re cheering for him

and although he’s scared shitless, he goes through with it because he knows that this is a fear he needs to get over, so might as well get it over with while making you smile!

and so when it’s your turn to get on the ride, he gets cold feet, kinda, but you grab onto his hand, not his finger, and rub your thumb over it to reassure him that it’ll be fine

and it was honestly not that bad because he felt safe with you holding his hand the entire time

and when the ride finishes and he sees how happy you are, he thinks to himself that it was so worth it because you’re beaming

he makes a note

holding your hand > holding fingers