#is that how disciplined he is towards his work and training

[estebunny]

How do you mentally prepare for a race?

via JAAQ interview

"To prepare mentally for a race. What is very important to me is the routine is how I go into all the certain details, the preparation, it's very important for me to feel good arriving to a race, to know I have done everything that I had to do in terms of physical preparation, in terms of mental preparation, in terms of preparation with the car, with engineers. There is a very important balance to have between my work on myself that I'm doing at my training centre every day when we are in between races and the work that I do at the factory like we are in today, that's a very difficult mix to have because when I'm doing the work with the engineers, I can't do the work on myself, but I have a very important schedule that I put on myself and I say, okay, this day I'm doing this, this, that, and then I can prepare with the engineers for the car and everything else. And yeah, I think we found a happy balance. And I think for everyone it's important to find a happy balance in where you put the effort and when you find that happy balance, which is hard to do, then you feel good."

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem Headcanons

Meet your (6) monster boyfriends!

Since the story will take a while to unfold, I decided to speed things up and properly introduce you to the characters. A little time skip to Reader becoming an onmyōji herself and renewing the bonds with the yokai men, this time at their request. They cannot bear the thought of separating from their darling and since she has reneged her life as a regular human being, someone has to keep her company. And so the days are spent exorcising evil spirits both in modern and feudal Japan, with a pack of demons following close behind.

[Main story] [Character Guide]

Content: female reader, monster smut, NSFW, obsessive behavior, reader is a monster hoe again but feigns mild reluctance

Kiritsubo

Kiritsubo is your very first yokai encounter and he almost immediately falls for you. He's always been at the receiving end of his master's wrath for not being able to use his powers, so much that even after Nakamaro’s ‘death’ he couldn’t sleep without being plagued by horrid nightmares. His back is covered in thick scars from the frequent punishments. You first begun to suspect his background when you jumped in to protect him from an incoming blow and he froze in terror, unable to look up and awaiting the anticipated discipline.

Needles to say that when he learns you're not like the previous onmyōji he becomes extremely clingy and needy. He can only rest if you're next to him and will often hug you for reassurance. You've shared a bed before there was any hint of romance, simply because he found your presence so soothing. That's not to say he relies on you for everything. In fact, he unlocks his nearly unmatched abilities purely out of his desire to protect you. He’s found his purpose in serving you, someone who showed him kindness when he needed it most.

As you go out into the world, he begins to question his exact feelings for you. An example of his intense musings: he's asked you, perplexed, whether he can kiss you like the people he's seen on the street. He's spent his entire life being trained by Abe no Nakamaro, so he struggles to understand how relationships work. He will be utterly oblivious to other people flirting with him (it happens every now and then, he is a handsome demon after all), but simultaneously worry that everyone is out to have you. He’s already very salty about the other yokai joining your side and will frequently remind them he was the first to accept you.

When you complete your transition as an onmyōji, the priestess warns you that you may no longer partake in any kind of bonding with your fellow humans. Kiritsubo, seated next to you, responds almost instantly with eyes sparkling in excitement: "Well, that doesn’t extend to yokai, does it? I can still make you my wife.”

Kiritsubo is very clumsy when being intimate with you for the first time, but it doesn’t take long for him to become rather addicted to the feeling. You often have to scold him to behave and in return he’ll be pouting and fidgeting until you finally give in to his pleading gaze. He’s very vocal and touchy and will leave you covered in scratches from all the pulling. Towards the end he’s a drooling mess, mumbling about how much he loves you and begging you to never, ever leave him.

Murasaki

Murasaki is very cold and sarcastic on the surface, but you soon realize he is the most caring and responsible of the group, always looking out for everyone and trying to keep them out of trouble. In fewer words, he's almost like a tsundere mother hen (he won't hesitate to put you in a headlock if you mention it, though). He goes along with your wishes and will politely listen to anything you tell him, but to others he remains stoic and even rude. You’re sometimes reminded of the preferential treatment when witnessing his aggressive way of dealing with his suitors, shooing them away with the utmost disgusted scowl.

“Huh? Why can’t I be nicer to others? Bold of you to assume my tolerance is not, in fact, a limited resource spent entirely on dealing with you.”

He's been your guardian from the day you met him. He taught you how to use a sword and how to properly cast spells and seems to have a solution for all your troubles. When you introduced the yokai to the modern world you assumed he'd struggle to adapt, but he was extremely quick to learn and is, to this day, accumulating knowledge at a dizzying pace. One wouldn't be able to tell him apart from a regular city dweller. Murasaki is the concrete definition of a jack of all trades, excelling in whatever he sets his mind on.

Given his status and skills, the other yokai have always been rather jealous of him, including Kiritsubo. Ironically enough, by the time Murasaki accepted his infatuation towards you, you'd already gotten close to Kiritsubo. Which resulted in a lot of unexplained jealous bouts from a yokai too prideful to admit he loves you just as much. (You eventually get him to confess and reach the agreement to distribute the wealth among workers.)

He will occasionally be in a good enough mood to share with Kiritsubo, but it frequently results in a bizarre competition between them as you awkwardly squirm underneath, overstimulated. More often he prefers to pull you aside after you've done the deed with another yokai and aggressively fuck you as a way to assert his dominance. "Oh, was he that good? Then why are you moaning much louder now?" He'll demand with a firm grasp around your throat. Sadly his extreme competitiveness extends to this area as well.

Suma

Among the yokai, Suma is the most easygoing one despite his intimidating appearance. Most evenings he’ll have a drink in hand, eager to chitchat and ramble by the campfire, with his relaxed laughter resounding across the place. He is very loud and blunt and will often need to be reminded of the colossal power imbalance between him and regular humans and demons. Although after accidentally dislocating your shoulder (he was terribly amused by your joke and gave you a friendly pat), he’s gotten much better at adjusting the amount of force he uses, especially with you.

You’ve only witnessed him serious on two occasions: first one is a recurring event, when he’s training alone. When you’re together, he’s always in a merry mood, letting you try out moves and spells on him and frequently praising you even after failures. His whole demeanor changes when he’s by himself, swinging the spear with a calculated, focused gaze that remains unperturbed until the end of his session. The second case is when you get hurt. Now, he does encourage you to fight, and your confidence in battle is what caused him to fall head over heels in love with you. He will immediately put a stop to it, however, if the opponent ends up harming you. Seeing your lips curl in pain is enough to set him off and send him into a full blown rage.

Suma is destructive in all the ways you can think of. Given his massive size, as much as he’d love to, having his way with you is not something that can happen spontaneously. Borrowing his powers can of course help your frail body to not immediately tear apart, but depending on how much self control he has (or lack of), you might end up needing urgent healing from Sakaki. Suma will be extremely apologetic for nearly fucking you to death, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. A more common approach is riding his hand, as one or two fingers are enough to make you dizzy. He’ll be satisfied just hearing your needy whimpers. He also adores watching you whenever you give him handjobs as your little, delicate hands struggle to hold onto him. You’re insignificant compared to him and yet you persevere, feisty and horny. His precious, tiny warrior.

Yuugiri

Yuugiri is by nature a manipulative, masterful liar, so it comes as no surprise that you had a hard time trusting him in the beginning. His habit of teasing you certainly didn’t help, as you could never tell whether he’s serious about something or not. Perhaps the greatest irony is that even when he tries to be honest, it comes out crooked. Such is the fate of a deceiving demon, although most people are only familiar with fox spirits. On his end, he loves that you’re so transparent and obvious, even occasionally naive. And so it took a lot of awkward pleading to convince you to renew a binding contract with him, given everyone was suspecting him of ulterior motives.

For Yuugiri, being part of such contract is the most vulnerable offering he could've given you as proof of his love. As your souls become connected, you can perceive his feelings in ways otherwise impossible to achieve. He willingly allowed you to be able to read his heart, and thankfully it worked. It was his last, desperate resort to get you to understand his affections. Do you finally see the earnest adoration he harbors for you?

He is the best choice if you're looking for a best friend to gossip with. He enjoys listening to your stories and pays great attention to every detail. He's also frighteningly vengeful, especially when it involves you. So if you ever complain about someone to him, know that he will remember it forever and will make sure to continuously get back at the offender in the worst possible ways and will only stop when you tell him to.

Now listen, I’m about to be quite crass but it is what it is: as a serpent demon he has a long, forked tongue and let’s just say everyone in the household can tell if he’s eating you out because it will be loud. It will be followed by the walk of shame, when you eventually have to come out of the room red-faced and sore-legged, with Yuugiri donning a devilish grin for the rest of the day. You always swear to keep it in next time, but within moments you’re tightly gripping onto his horns, mumbling his name in a feverish, drunken haze. Naturally, he can read you like an open book and this truth stands for more intimate matters as well. Leave it to Yuugiri to know what his darling likes best.

Sekiya

Sekiya has been fascinated with you from the moment you stepped into the ancient Tomb. To see the anxious, quiet Kiritsubo happily wag his tail after you and the stern, irritable Murasaki readily at your service…It was a sight most unfamiliar to him and he wondered how a mere human like you managed to whip them into this kind of submission. He refused to believe you’d be stronger than Abe no Nakamaro himself, yet after the battle - from which you emerged victorious - it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t fear or obedience coming from the two yokai companions. Just honest, unadulterated love. He felt his chest tighten with envy, all the resentment of being sealed in with an evil, hateful sorcerer finally erupting its way to the surface.

So when you offered him and Sakaki to join you (“What else is left to do among these ruins?”), he couldn’t agree fast enough. To think he, too, could be spoiled with the affections of someone like you. On the other hand, Sekiya is an insecure, nervous wreck of an overthinker and he felt like he couldn’t offer anything worthy in return. He’s a demon that casts barriers. Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t have Murasaki’s genius, or Kiritsubo’s raw power, or Suma’s brute strength…What use could you possibly find in him? Hence the constant need for reassurance. He will need you to pull him out of his melancholy every now and then, just a small nudge from the savior he so worships.

It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but Sekiya can get cheeky if his ego is stroked properly. So, for example, he’ll take advantage of the fact you’re both alone in the modern world and show you the handy usage of his barriers: a crowded intersection overflowing with people, and yet no one can see him greedily thrusting into you right in the middle of everything. It’s the high of sprawling you out in public without actually being seen. It’s also one of the reasons you no longer take him furniture shopping. Last time you asked him to help you pick a new table from Ikea and were confused by his requirement of it being “high enough”. Before you could ask for further explanations, the immediate vicinity started twirling into a blur and his heavy arm bent you over the surface. “Let me demonstrate”, he purred in your ear. Sure, no one saw you dripping with his cum, nonetheless scanning the items with your clenched legs and deep crimson face was humiliating enough.

Sakaki

Despite his gift to heal and revive, Sakaki is a terribly miserable demon, often plagued by gloom and death. He is especially receptive to negative emotions, and given your souls are connected, he is the first to detect any change in your mood. (You had to learn to block out the persistent throb of jealousy that tugs at your heart whenever the yokai is particularly insecure.) He takes great pride in the fact that he can understand your sadness better than anyone. The second you feel down, he’ll be right behind you: “Worry not, we shall suffer together. Such is the fate of lovers.”

The first time he joined you back into the modern world, you’ve perhaps mistakenly introduced him to classic literature you assumed he’d like. He indeed became infatuated with authors like Poe, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Shelley, Hoffmann. For the first time in his long life, Sakaki felt understood, and you’re glad to have played a role in his new interest. Yet you can’t help the shivers running down your spine whenever you become the target of his overflowing, renewed inspiration. Grim, ghastly paintings, deplorably obsessive poems…You’ve unleashed an authentic Romantic poet whose only muse is you.

He’s a master of eerie awkwardness, more so now that he has access to modern entertainment. You were excited when he asked you out on a picnic date, only to discover you’ve been taken to a foggy graveyard. He enthusiastically explained his choice: you can scout burial plots in case one of you dies (he’ll die with you, no worries), it is a stunning reminder that his love for you is eternal, and you might even find potential names if you ever want children. Another time, when you rented a boat during a sunny day at the lake, he cheerfully wondered how you’d look if you were to drown (still as beautiful as ever, he’s certain). Ah, but he does not dwell on dark things only. He recently took you to see the famous Cirque du Soleil and he was equally mesmerized by all the light and colors. It was Corteo: the story of a funeral cortège for a clown.

Sakaki does not like sharing and prefers to hang out with you alone, without the other demons. In fact, he’ll spend the day holed up in his room, writing or painting, or go out on lone walks if he knows you’re messing around with someone. He’d rather not hear anything that would cause him turmoil. The only exception is Sekiya, as they spent decades in isolation together within the sealed Tomb, and they both share a similar lack of confidence. In this case he won’t mind laying you on him and offering the above position to his friend, or casually joining your fun if he sees you together with Sekiya.

[lookingforhappy]

thnk u @air--so--sweet for pointing out the tua prop auction, i am obssessed so ofc im now writing up my own transcripts for stuff. i bet someone else has done this but i couldnt find it so here's my record of it:

this is from Reginald's red book in s1 (i presume the dates are written day/month/year as Reginald is english)

transcript:

"#00.01 Behaviour Part 4 -When given opportunity, he acts in accordance to my expectations, and to my instruction, and only to my expectation and instructions. Further experiments needed to figure out the extent of his blind loyalty. -Unknowable at this time if this productive for the cause or detrimental for the cause. 4/03/01 Conducted experiment in which I sent #00.01 to this woods to watch for threats. Not only did he not ask about said threats, he found ways to come up with his own possible threats. He stood watch in a weak, slight base camp from dawn until dusk, without asking if he should stay on overnight. He is still there. -Is it truly best to have the best follower be the leader??"

transcript:

"5/09/01 Another experiment conducted in which I gave #00.01 an unknowable mission, but this time had him try to lead the team in his cause. I instructed #00.01 to take the team and patrol the state beach. Up and down. Until the threat revealed itself. Within hours all members had referred to pursue mission on such little intel. #00.01 never stopped. Even after the pleading from #00.03. Whom usually shows an emotional weakness for. #00.03 Abilities Part 3 -Makes one wonder if she is all the Umbrella Academy really needs. -Her full potential makes the rest of the team look like an afterthought. -How can I convince her the team needs her? Confounded at not being able to capture a non-existent opponent flag. Their petty feud seems to know no bounds. But if the feud motivates #00.02 in a way to suceed in that types of scale, so be it. Work-load Capacity Ranking 1-#00.05 (negated by disregard for rules and safety) 2-#00.01 (enhanced by propensity to protect siblings) 3-#00.03 (strength in collaboration) 4-#00.06 (follower) 5-#00.04 (untapped and unfocused potential) 6-#00.02 (could be 1st or 6th depending on mood) Discipline Notes -Physical pain yields best results with males. -Emotional trauma yields best results with #00.03 and Klaus. Especially when inflicted on others. -Separation from group does not work on #00.02."

transcript:

"-Sensory Statistics -Visual - 21.4% -Auditory - 8.7% -Kinesthetic - 69.9% -Disorders -Likely tendency toward Oppositional Disorder (ODD) -Maternal family history of possible sociopathy (seems incongruent to dynamics with Seven; background research ongoing ref p.49) -Phobias -Darkness -Solitude -Binds Effective Behaviours Modification Techniques"

edit 03/07/2024: spelling corrections 😬

my thoughts beneath the cut:

Pic 1

interesting that Reginald seems more interested in Luther's psychology, and whether it's a mistake for him to be the leader due to his blind loyalty and strict adherence to instruction (to me, Luther reads as somewhat autistic here, following rules to the letter, but this could also be a result of childhood abuse).

Reginald's interest in Luther's blind loyalty, and experimenting on him to test where or if he has a limit on said loyalty, is very similar to the moon mission. Reginald said there was a purpose to it in s3, but maybe the purpose was testing the extent of Luther's loyalty. Maybe he was waiting to see at what point would Luther actually start to ask his father questions, or make requests of him or even outright defy him. We know Luther had started asking for more food, but maybe Reginald was pushing him further, to see at what point he'd ask to come home.

Since Reginald didn't send any of the Sparrows to the Moon it would seem like Luther's moon mission was unneccessary, but to Reginald there was nothing more important than training the children. Since Reginald seems to doubt whether having a Follower be a Leader, maybe he was trying to force Luther into a position that would help him learn how to use his own initiative?

Pic 2

this one is a gold mine.

Luther once again cannot not follow instruction or leave his work unfinished, but he's also considered to be very protective of his siblings by Reginald (which is a good thing in Reginald's books).

Allison is desperate for him to stop, but also seems like she has self-worth or anxiety issues that Reginald is unable to cure her of, likely related to her feeling like people would hate her if they knew the real her.

Diego's feud with Luther over being no.1 wasn't intentional on Reginald's side, but he didn't discourage it either as he felt it motivated Diego. Which is probably related to the fact that Diego doesn't seem to work well without the group. He also says Diego could be no.1 if he sorted out his emotions, but he ranks him in last.

Five is marked top of the group, above even Luther, but he's too opposed to rules and safety in Reginald's eyes.

Ben seems to be keeping quiet and doing as he's told, which also seems to be a good thing to Reginald.

also interesting that Klaus is referred to by name not number, and is grouped with Allison rather than with the "males".

I don't think "physical pain" refers to torture or corporal punishment, but perhaps exhaustion or intense physical regimines? Mostly because Reginald seems extremely hands off with the kids.

Pic 3

It doesn't say who this entry is about but "Oppositional Disorder" and "sociopathy" seems most consistent with Five. and now that we know his mother was a butcher, she seems the most likely candidate to have been thought a sociopath.

(edit: Although, Klaus is also suggested to have ODD in S3, this doesn't seem consistent with the earlier entry mentioning he is more receptive to emotional pain and pain inflicted on others, than to physical pain inflicted to himself. Plus, Rachel seems very emotionally intelligent, and this entry points out a positive relationship with Viktor which has always been more Five's thing)

I don't agree with the sociopath diagnosis, but it seems Reginald is hestitant to diagnose it in the first place since he notes that Five has a good relationship with Viktor, probably meaning he's not devoid of empathy.

the Phobias is also interesting. Darkness, Solitude and Binds all suggest he was forced into similar situations as Klaus and Viktor, where he had to use his powers to escape cramped conditions. the fact that he notes Solitude is one of his phobias is also v sad all things considered. plus the fact that Five is the only Brelly to sleep on a separate floor to the other 6 siblings - maybe this was Reginald's attempt to cure him of this phobia?

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 1. The King Of The Ring.

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Spynosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count:3016 words. A/N: Hiya! Well, I am up-to-date with Jinx, and even tho it's so fun to read, I just fucking hate Joo Jaekyung so much! So, I decided to kinda write my own version with my favorite toxic man. Hope you like it, folks!

“Sukuna Ryomen, ladies and gentlemen! He showed us once again why he is the king of the ring!” The excited narrator exclaimed, meanwhile the king flexed the golden belt around his waist after another amazing fight.

His body glossed in sweat, his proud smile and the blood of his opponent sliding down his tattooed skin. A dangerous beast who just caught his prey. They showed the repetition of the final hit in slow motion, a perfect punch in the perfect moment. Luck doesn’t exist in the world of mixed martial arts, we have unique opportunities instead. I used to believe that, until I witnessed it myself.

“It’s here,” I thought out loud when I saw the giant sign that read “Team Black MMA Gym” in bright white and red letters.

It was the most important MMA gym in Tokyo. I heard that they only accept the fighters with the most potential of the country. My trainer used to tell me to at least try out to be surrounded by professionals. As a woman, I wasn’t particularly interested in entering a male-exclusive gym. The only other woman there is the physiotherapist.

I took the elevator to the gym’s floor. When the doors opened, the smell of sweat and the sound of the metal weights welcomed me. I just stepped inside, and I already had eyes on me. I was expecting it to be honest. A woman in a gym filled by rugged men isn’t something you see every day. It didn’t help that I was using an oversize gray hoodie which covered my shorts, making it seem that I wasn’t wearing any pants.

The gym was divided into training areas for different martial arts. In the corner, there was a ring that stood tall for fighters to simulate real combat. Along the gym, there were several punching bags, weight stations and resistance equipment.

The sound of the punches and kicks, mixed with the instructions of the coaches, created a threatening and energetic environment. You could easily notice who were the fighters with discipline. Those working hard to perfect their skills, showing off their determination in every move. The place was impregnated with a spirit of self-improvement and sportsmanship, where the passion for martial arts was in every corner.

“Welcome, miss.” A tall blonde man called me.

“You must be the manager, Nanami Kento,” I greeted with a bow, which was reciprocated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” he greeted back. “Let me introduce you to your trainee.” He led the way through the heavy equipment to the outstanding ring.

Sukuna was simulating a fight with another member of the gym. Nanami and I just waited for them to finish so he could introduce me formally. Sukuna was constantly moving towards his opponent, creating closure enough so he could punch him better. The power difference could be noticed from what they were wearing. The King of the Ring was just wearing a black compressed shirt and gray shorts, showing off his defined abs and powerful legs, meanwhile his black haired opponent was wearing the gym uniform and all the protection equipment available.

It was a different experience watching a fighter like him live in action live. The details like the sound of his punching winds and how Sukuna’s muscles flexed with every move were lost on the TV. When Sukuna threw a definite left jab that left his opponent on the floor, I couldn’t help but gulp hard. He was a killing machine.

“Great job!” Nanami applauded along with some other fighters who were witnessing the fight as well. I clapped so I didn’t look so out of place.

Sukuna turned to my way and a grimace of disgust appeared on his face when his eyes landed on me, a total stranger with no pants on. He took his gloves off and threw them to my feet. “So this is how it is going to be?” I asked myself, not even bothering picking them up. Sukuna gritted his teeth when I didn’t pick his expensive gloves up.

“What an awful cleaning lady you hired, Kento,” Sukuna said disdainfully.

“She is not a cleaning lady! She is your new coach,” Nanami introduced me, ashamed by the attitude of his star athlete.

“Kick her out, I don’t need a new coach,” Sukuna groaned.

“If I knew this was going to be like this, why am I here?” I asked myself in my mind, starting to take back my decision of becoming the coach of a well-known fighter with anger issues. Ah, I remember now. I needed to see something for myself.

“Hello? Am I talking with Y/n?” A couple of weeks ago, Nanami Kento called my gym, desperate.

“You are talking with her,” I answered, thinking he was a sponsor or someone in the UFC.

“My name is Nanami Kento, and I am Sukuna Ryomen’s manager.”

A famous fighter in the MMA world. The world champion in the light heavyweight weight class. The king of the ring and a wild tiger during interviews due to his lack of humbleness. A horrible person to the simple eye, a magnificent opponent in the ring.

“I’ll be straight forward. I don't know if you saw his last fight…”

Sukuna’s last fight was against Suguru Geto in Las Vegas, another amazing fighter. The interesting thing about that encounter was seeing two great fighters specialized in opposite areas. Geto specializes in floor fighting, while Ryomen is an incredible boxer. Everyone went crazy when the fight was announced, could Sukuna beat him with just his bare punches, or would Geto be able to bring him down to his advantage?

In the middle of the fourth round, Geto pulled him to the floor and Sukuna was in trouble. Obviously, Sukuna has some training in floor fighting, but that wasn’t enough when you are against the best. Geto caged him like an anaconda, ready to choke him to surrender him. Sukuna tried to set himself free by force, but his punches weren’t good enough to win the fight.

“It will be a technical knockout.” I thought out while watching the fight from the comfort of my living room. I was eating chips mindlessly until I saw a unique opportunity.

Sukuna, somehow, freed himself from Geto’s strong grip to reach for his head. With great momentum, he punched him precisely in his jaw, completely knocking Suguru out. I knocked my bowl of chips when I jumped from the couch to watch the repetition closely. I had seen Geto do that chokehold a thousand times, no opponent can just simply "free” themselves like that. My eyes couldn’t believe how clean that killer punch was.

“The thing is that his coach and I believe he must improve his floor techniques,” Nanami explained the situation.

“There are many more renowned coaches who specialize in floor, why me?” I asked, curious at the whole conversation. I have heard rumors that Sukuna is pretty picky with whom he lets in his gym.

“You are right. You have been the tenth coach I have called today,” Nanami answered honestly. “Sukuna is too stubborn and doesn’t want to admit that he was also beaten in his last fight. He goes out of his way to get rid of every coach we bring him.”

“Why do you think I will accept?” I asked. If he was calling me, a famous woman for a specific quality, there must be a reason.

“If I believe someone can humble him and teach him some discipline, it’s you,” he declared.

An offended smile appeared on my face. I wasn’t going to let Sukuna Ryomen treat me like I was a slack to deal with. Now I understand why every coach gave up on him, you cannot train something that doesn't want to be trained, but you can tame it.

“Sukuna, we already talked about this. You should train with someone who specializes in floor so what happened in Vegas doesn't happen again,” his coach, Satoru Gojo. A tall white haired man in an all black coaching uniform. He was standing beside him with his arms crossed, clearly stressed from dealing with his bratty attitude all day.

“What happened in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. I don’t need another stupid coach,” he defended himself while he brushed his hair back with his fingers.

“You win, I won’t train you,” I said in defeat. I turned around to make my way to the elevator. “Either way, I don’t train assholes,” I said loud enough with a sly smile. A howl from the fighters who heard me echoed through the gym.

“Stop!” He barked. I turned around to see what he wanted.

“Didn’t you want me to leave?” I asked, trying to keep my act together.

“What did you just call me?” He dared me to repeat myself.

“Gotcha!” I thought, proud of myself. I know how the male brain works. They can’t let anyone challenge them just like that. I hid my smirk and faced him again.

“Did Geto hit you so hard that you went deaf? I said, ‘You are an asshole!’” I shouted from my place.

Nanami quickly got to me, so I behaved better, but I couldn’t back down now. Sukuna scoffed and snapped his fingers at me.

“Get up here,” he demanded as another fighter gave him back his gloves. He wanted to fight me.

“You don’t have to, miss,” Nanami warned me in a whisper.

“I know what I am doing, don’t worry,” I answered in the same volume.

I put the mouth guard I brought with me on my pink shoulder bag. I wrapped my hands in bandages while Sukuna was analyzing me from top to bottom while preparing myself for the fight. It was understandable, I was a dangerous wasp in his bee hive. The rest of the fighters stop training to get around the ring to witness the match.

When I finished wrapping my hands, I took my hoodie off, revealing my abs and toned arms. Some whistled and applauded as if I was a stripper, when I could shut them up with a kick in the nuts. Sukuna, on the other hand, just kept staring, looking for weaknesses. He could be an asshole, but he respected his opponent at least.

“You better not be wasting my time,” he angrily barked. His red eyes still looked at me from head to toe without shame.

“You are already wasting mine,” I answered. Sukuna smiled, not believing what I just said to his face.

“We are really going to let this fight happen?” Nanami asked Gojo.

“It looks like it's the only way he will accept her,” Gojo shrugged before stepping inside the ring. He told us the basic rules for the match, asked us if he was clear, and we just nodded. “Touch gloves so we can start.” I placed my gloves in the middle so Sukuna could bump them, but he just backed away. “Fucking pussy” I thought, backing up to my side.

A small audience gathered around the ring for an unusual show. A light heavyweight champion against a random girl that just showed up. It looked like the possibilities of winning weren’t on my side. I started moving my legs and arms to warm up. If Sukuna was a lion, I had to be a fast gazelle. His prying eyes were on me all the time. I smiled at him. He could look at me everything he wanted, he didn’t scare me. It was my time to show him who was boss.

“Fight!” Gojo shouted.

There is a golden rule in mixed martial arts: “The first hit is the most important.” Sukuna flew towards me with a superman punch. He was open. I dodged it fast enough so I could jab him against his left cheek. The surprised audience gasped collectively. Sukuna quickly got used to my rhythm and changed his posture towards me. I created distance between us, so I could evaluate my options. I didn't have anything other than going for his legs, but that wouldn’t be a simple task. His legs were too strong to just sweep him off his feet with a single kick. I needed to do something more drastic.

Sukuna kept closing the distance between us to punch me directly, he was looking for the knockout. He was more of an offensive than defensive fighter, like I already knew. Sukuna hit me a couple of times and was celebrated by the public. They stung with power and intense pain. He was giving the best of him. I needed to answer with the same power, but in a more clever way.

I kicked him in the stomach so he could back down, but he pushed my hand down just in time, so my kick didn’t connect well. I tried kicking the other side, this time he stopped me by grabbing my ankle. Big mistake. I impulsed myself with my other leg to kick him on his face to knock him to the floor. Sukuna fell with a big slam that made the whole audience howl in surprise.

I quickly got onto him to lock him down against the mat with my legs around his neck and torso. He tried getting up, just like with Geto, but I wasn’t going to let him. This was the only chance I got to beat him. I could listen to Sukuna growling under his breath. He punched me against my sides, but I couldn’t give up. I latched my left leg on his right arm, making him turn around slowly. The audience screamed confusing instructions to Sukuna because they knew if this continued, the fight was over. I made Sukuna turn on his belly. I reached for his head, so I could choke hold him in between my biceps. The screams kept getting louder, but I didn’t give a damn. I needed to end him, if I wanted a place in his gym. Sukuna started to breathe with difficulty while his hands tried to loosen up my powerful grasp. He was reliving what happened in Las Vegas.

“Come on, Sukuna! Finish this!” Gojo ordered among the hollering.

Sukuna sighed and obeyed. He tapped my arms three times in surrender. A technical knockout. I quickly released him and I stood tall, leaving him space so he could breathe.

“Y/n “Medusa’s snake” Y/ln is the winner,” Gojo announced while raising my arm in victory. The fighters applauded me in approval. I took my dental protector to breathe comfortably through my mouth. Even though I won, I wasn’t finished.

“Good fight…” Sukuna groaned under his breath, giving me his hand to shake. I shook it, even though he was visibly mad. I could understand why, I just kicked his ass in front of his entire gym, but I didn’t give a shit.

“This means you will train Sukuna?” Nanami asked me with hope in his voice.

“No, I said I didn’t coach assholes,” I shrugged. Sukuna’s face turned from angry to offended in a hot second.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I am a world champion, you should be honored to train me!” He shouted in my face, but I didn’t budge. He wasn't upset that I had to train him. Now, he's just mad because I didn't want to train him anymore. We were making progress.

“I am not interested in training the world champion of assholes,” I seriously said before putting my hoodie back on.

I hung the bag on my shoulder and quickly walked away from the whole situation. I dodged the other fighters on my way out. Nanami kept following me, asking me to reconsider the offer. I took the elevator, leaving the chaos behind me. Once the doors closed, I collapsed against the wall behind me. Fighting against Sukuna was an entire workout. The bruises started to show up in purple hues, my legs were trembling weakly, and my lips were begging for water. Dealing with Sukuna wasn’t an easy task.

The elevator’s doors opened on the first floor. I stepped out just to rest my body for a minute. I took my water bottle out to drink some while I waited. What I was waiting for? I really didn’t know, but I needed to wait for someone to come chasing after me to beg me to stay. Maybe it was going to be Nanami, Gojo or any other fighter. It could be anyone.

“Wait!” The last person that I thought would come for me said behind me. It was Sukuna, looking tired and agitated. He was wearing a black hoodie, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“What do you need, asshole?” I asked without taking the straw off my mouth.

“Don’t call me like that,” he groaned.

“I will once you stop acting like one,” I said, putting my water bottle aside. Sukuna rolled his eyes and sighed. He was so done. “Now you know that you need me?” I asked with a confident smirk.

“I don't need you, but you are good. I want you in my team,” he corrected.

“Fine, on one condition.” Sukuna raised his chin at me to continue. “You must accept that you are terrible at floor fighting.” He laughed at the “absurd condition.”

“I am a world champion, I am not terrible in floor fighting,” he said angrily.

“It’s not good to lie so much,” I said, replicating his condescending tone. I turned around to exit the building. “If you don’t want to fulfill my condition, I can’t train you.”

“Wait!” Sukuna grabbed me by the arm to stop me. “Fine,” he sighed again. “I am terrible at floor fighting, are you happy now?” I turned to him with a bright smile on my face.

“See? That wasn’t that hard.”

“Hush,” he groaned, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks were a bit flustered, it was kinda cute.

“When do we start?” I asked with a proud heart. The Medusa’s Snake had beaten another terrible man.

“Right now,” he pulled me with him, back to the elevator.

Next Part→

Masterlist.

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[idleoblivion]

"Good Puppy" Crewel x GN Reader

Synopsis: You're finally at the professor's house, and he gives you one last gift for the night. Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: ~2k A/N: I started writing this when his card came out and then abandoned it lol but I'm so glad to have it done now, ngl I like how this one came out.

Warnings: Teacher/student relationship, gn reader, shy/nervous reader, dirty talk, praise kink, mild spanking, oral sex, sex toys, overstimulation, unprotected sex, overuse of the word 'puppy'

The drive to his house after dinner was nerve wracking to say the least. You both rode in silence, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and nervous feelings. Not that you weren’t excited as well, the lingering arousal from your earlier activities still very present in your mind and body. But you couldn’t help the anxiety you felt building, unsure of what exactly he was going to do once you arrived. 

You're pulled from your thoughts by a strong hand placing itself on your thigh. You look over to the professor, and catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Something on your mind, puppy?” He asks with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“I’m just…thinking.” You can’t think of any other excuse to offer, and he clearly sees right through it.  He grants you some mercy though, not pressing you any further for now. He returns his eyes to the road, but his hand doesn’t leave its place in your leg for the rest of the ride. 

————

You finally arrive at a grand, luxurious house, and after pulling up the long driveway he gets out to open the door for you again. You follow closely behind him as he leads you to the door and unlocks it. 

You’re immediately greeted by three large energetic dogs, wagging their tails and coming up to sniff you. While they are very eager to investigate you, they appear very well behaved, not jumping on you or barking at you either. With all the talk he does about training and disciplining you and your classmates in school, it makes sense to you he would be the same with his dogs. 

After a brief moment of petting them as they surround you, you look up to find the Crewel hanging up his coat before turning back to you. 

“I’ll assume you’re not hungry after dinner, but did you want something to drink before we get started?” He heads into his kitchen as he asks you. 

“No, thank you though.” Your answer comes out shy, as you mentally try to prepare yourself for whatever he has in store for you. 

He returns with two water bottles anyways.  “We’ll just keep these around for after, then.” He smiles as he sees the anxiety practically radiating off of you. 

He steps forward until there’s very little space separating the two of you. He seems to admire you for a second, like he likes how nervous he can get you while hardly doing anything. 

“You’re ready then, puppy?” You nod, and he starts towards his stairwell. “Follow me upstairs then.”

———

You enter his room and he closes the door behind you. You hardly have time to even look around before his hands are on your waist, holding you close to him. 

“Forgive me if I seem too eager. You have no idea how long the night has felt while waiting to get you here.” He presses his lips to yours, and his hands start sliding up your shirt before beginning to pull it off of you. You lift your arms to allow him to, and he motions to your pants as well as he starts undressing himself. 

Before long he has you sitting on the edge of his bed, awaiting the next order from him. 

“You remember when I said I had more gifts to give you tonight, puppy?” 

You try to nod, but a sharp eyebrow raised reminds you of his demands. “Yes, professor.”

“Good.” He walks over to his dresser and pulls out a black box from a drawer, then heads back to where you sit. “I have it in here for you. You’ll be using it tonight.”

You cautiously open it, and your eyes widen when you see what’s inside. 

“A vibrator, for you puppy. I’m sure you know how that works, right?” His eyes are dark and lustful at how shy you’ve gotten. 

“Y-yes, professor.” You almost whisper. 

“Perfect. You’ll be making proper use of that tonight, but first…” He gently pushes you to lay down on his soft sheets, “I think it’s about time I get a taste of you.” He spreads your legs and puts them over his shoulders, keeping you right at the edge of the bed. You cover your face in embarrassment and how obvious your arousal already is. 

“Show me your face puppy, no hiding or I’ll have to punish you.” He doesn’t stop looking at your face as he finally goes to taste you. 

The first touch of his tongue makes you squirm and whine, but his hands hold you still for him. You want to suppress your voice but he is clearly experienced with his mouth, teasing you in all the right ways to have you moaning for him. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you to ground yourself.

He pulls his mouth away for a second, and before you can question him you feel his finger slowly breaching your entrance. He pumps it into you until he can fit a second, making you keen. He laughs at that, absolutely loving watching you lose yourself. 

“That’s it, puppy. You don’t have to be shy, just keep being good for me and enjoy it.”

He finds a spot that has you arching and presses hard. He groans in response to the wail you give, before pulling his fingers back out. 

“Good, such a good puppy. I think you’re ready for my cock now, hm?”

“Yes please, professor.” You were practically aching with anticipation, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you again.

He sits down too and beckons for you to come to him. You obey and place yourself on his lap, facing him. Grabbing your hips again, he pulls you up until the head of his cock teases your hole. He smirks at you, before letting go. 

“Sit.” 

So you do. You hold onto his shoulders as you slowly work your way onto his cock. It’s not uncomfortable, but this angle has him reaching deeper than before, making you tremble some as you manage to take all of him in. 

“Good fucking pup.” He groans, tilting his head back some. If you weren’t busy adjusting to him you might’ve smiled at that, happy that you have a strong effect on him as well. 

“Can I move please, professor?” You ask, the heat inside of you outweighing any shyness you feel. “Please, wanna move…” You rock yourself a little on him, only to receive a harsh slap on your ass. 

“I didn’t say you could, puppy. Sit still.”

Then he reaches on the bed next to him to grab the vibrator again. His expression looks especially dangerous as he takes your hand to place the toy in it. 

“Turn it on and use it on yourself.”

Your face must show the shock you feel at that request, because he lets out a sharp laugh before smirking again. “I said that you would be using it, not me, remember? You’re gonna keep my cock warm while you use your new toy.”

You look at it in your hand hesitantly, completely embarrassed at the idea. Another slap to your ass makes you look at him again. 

“I won’t tell you again, puppy. Turn it on.”

You finally comply, turning the vibrator on. It has multiple settings, and you leave it at the lowest one. You catch another glimpse of his impatient look before pressing the toy against you.

Your hips buck a little at the sudden stimulation, and you immediately hold onto him again with your free hand to keep steady. You bite your lip hard to stifle your voice. 

“Aw, is it a lot, puppy? Feels really good?”

“Ah! Y-yes, professor!” You manage between gasps. 

“Turn it up.”

You look at him pleadingly, but he only smiles in return. You press the button again and the toy vibrates faster. This time you can’t hold yourself still, hips stuttering in his lap from the added stimulation. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you? Why don’t you try turning it up again?”

“C-can’t, I’m already- ah!” You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and you were now shamelessly grinding against him as you held the toy against you. 

That earns you another spank. “I’m telling you that you can, and you will. Turn it up again.”

You press it again, turning it to the highest setting. The vibration feels so strong against you that collapse into his chest, gasping and moaning that it’s too much while he only watches on. 

“C-cumming, professor I’m-“ 

“Yes, that’s it, good puppy, cum on my cock just like that.”

As if his words compelled you, you cum hard around his cock, seeing stars behind your eyes. You pull the toy away from the overstimulation, only for him to take it from your hands. 

“Now it’s my turn, pup. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You’re given no chance to respond before he starts thrusting up into you unannounced. You whimper and grasp onto him, your mind starting to go numb from the pleasure. He’s ruthless with his pace, giving you no chance to recover and taking advantage of your sensitivity. You’re so out of it and focused on him that you don’t even register the sound of the vibrator starting up again. 

You definitely feel it once he’s holding it against you again, not slowing his pace at all. Tears are streaming down your face, it’s too much but it’s so good you can’t help but try to meet his thrusts, feeling another orgasm building quickly. 

“Greedy pup, already about to cum again.” He’s still acting like his cocky self, but you can tell by his voice he’s close himself. “You wanna cum again? Do you?”

“Yes, yes I do-fuck! I wanna cum, professor please-“

“Then cum for me.” The force of your orgasm has you nearly screaming his name, nails clawing into his back while your eyes roll back. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release and mumbling incoherent praises in your ear while you wail. He never takes his eyes off your teary, fucked-out face as he finally cums inside you.

By the time both of you have caught your breath, you’re still trembling in his lap, feeling his release start to seep out of you as pulls out. He lays you on the bed tenderly, aware that he’s put your body through a lot.

“Very good, you did so good puppy. Always so good for me…” He trails off before placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’ll get a washcloth for you, and then you should rest, pup. You’ll need time to recover before tomorrow.” “...What are we doing tomorrow?” Crewel chuckles lightly to himself. “Take a wild guess, puppy. We have all weekend together, and I don’t intend to waste it.”

Then he leaves you, legs still twitching and hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. The exhaustion catches up to you, and you have a hard time holding your eyes open while you wait for him. Entering the room with a cloth like he promised, he quickly cleans you and makes you drink some water before you get under his covers. He cuddles you from behind, and his lips pressed against the back of your neck is the last thing you register before you succumb to sleep entirely.

[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration ����

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

[flowersforchoso]

Bi-han as a father.

it takes a while for him to adjust to the concept of fatherhood as a result of the strained relationship he had with his father.

but once he gets the hang of it, he'll be the perfect mix of stern and loving. capable of striking fear in his children's hearts if you threaten to report them, "i'll tell your father" works like a charm to make them act right, but he's welcoming and will never turn his children away or refuse to engage them.

realistically, he would've like 2-3 kids max.

he's a disciplinarian through and through. won't tolerate misbehavior or disrespect, especially if its towards you. he doesn't take kindly to that.

sometimes you feel he's being excessive with it and intervene

"mommy!" your child cries, running to you for protection from their father—a refuge—to which you'd complain that he's being needlessly harsh

"you coddle them too much, that's the problem." he scolds. "no child of mine will be errant"

of course, you get upset at his hard-headedness that barely makes him see from your perspective

and he can tell, because you're no longer receptive to his advances in protest against his behaviour

so he tones down the discipline and tries to be lenient with them. keyword: tries.

nevertheless, he's nurturing and very hands-on. attentive as well. if something is wrong, he notices right away.

will cook for his children because he believes he's the better cook, but they think otherwise, since he just puts lots of vegetables in the food. he wants them to grow healthy and strong

he teaches his children from a tender age to be self-sufficient and trains them to be able to protect themselves and you, if the situation calls for it.

dad time is essential. will take them to exciting places and partake in outdoor activities like gardening, hiking, fishing or simply errands to the marketplace etc. he loves to spend time with them and would crack dad jokes here and there to entertain them. they'll pretend to find it funny.

he's overprotective and strives to be a good role model to his kids.

now if he's a girl dad, there's a slight twist.

his parenting style is much more relaxed due to his mother being the only female presence he had growing up so its a mix of cluelessness and traditional ideals shining through and will mostly take cues from you

training is not mandatory but if they're interested, he would be happy. its not as rigorous and they have the choice to opt out anytime.

he dotes excessively on them that'll make you wonder if this was the same person you married. but it's mainly because he sees them as mini versions of you

at this point, its no surprise he's the preferred parent because of how affectionate he is towards them. and big, strong dad gives the best piggyback rides.

infact, you would have to complain that he's spoiling them too much to which he'd respond

"what's it to you? don't question my parenting" and you leave it at that.

treats them delicately. his paternal instincts go into overdrive everytime and he gets easily worried when it comes to them

when they reach a certain age, he doesn't shy away from topics relating to womanhood. but that doesn't mean he initiates the conversation. he takes on the passive role of listener and further educates himself by asking you questions in private which you tease him for being eager to learn

doesn't joke with his daughters. he's a nightmare of a father nobody would want to deal with because he would raise hell if anyone dares hurt them in any capacity

he's changed so much since having them; has become softened, and is grateful to you for this wonderful gift.

but if he only has sons, its a different story entirely

he's twice as stern and this is because he grew up with brothers so he knows how unruly boys can be

training is mandatory for them, they do not get the luxury to choose. he wants them to be able to protect themselves and you, so he doesn't ever present the opportunity for slacking

in short, he rules with an iron fist. you'd have to remind him that they're his children, not his underlings

struggles with voicing his affection. you'd have to reassure your sons that their father, infact, loves them

and it's only natural they gravitate towards you.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for them. because he does. its all about tough love and instilling strong values in them, leaving no room for weakness.

and they constantly want to impress their father. on rare occasions when they do, or bi han is feeling particularly soft, he looks at them with adoration and ruffles their hair or simply utters a "well done" that means the world to them

they look up to their father and are always around him seeking validation

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

headcanon: youre a new student at an MMA academy that the tf141 runs.

its just price in this one, but everyone will be present at a later point :))

the first time you walk into the gym, youre all wide eyed and nervous, the world of martial arts a part of your distant past. but with the state of the world you figured that some self defense classes were a necessity, lest you end up battered and bruised in an alleyway somewhere.

When you walk in, the gym is shockingly neat and clean, windows shining and floormats soft and new. you weren't exaxtly sure what to expect, but this was a pleasant surprise.

the prior class was finishing up, children running about and throwing punches at the punching bags scattered around the gym.

at the forefront was a man, broad shouldered and handsome...in a dilf-y sort of way (not that you were complaining!!) with a grin shockingly similar to a quokka, you thought to yourself with a small huff of laughter.

he must be the coach you had been in contact with for a bit to set up the trial class. John, you believe it was?

"ALRIGHT, first person to knock me over wins. You get two kicks each!" John calls out, his voice booming yet kind.

Laughter echoes throughout the gym as the children attempt to knock him down, but he remains still as a statue, evidence of the years of strength he gained.

A few minutes later the class finishes up, and you make your way over (a tad bit nervously) to introduce yourself.

"Hi! Um, I'm here for the trial class, I think I spoke to you over the phone?" you say, sticking out your hand for him to shake.

He smiles warmly, clasping your hand in his and giving it a firm shake.

'That's right, John Price, it's a pleasure. Welcome to Task Force Training Academy, I have a feeling you fit right in. Have you ever done anything like this?" he asks.

"Not...really? I mean, I did boxing for a few months last year but my skills are nothing to write home about. Taekwondo too, but that feels like a lifetime ago," you say with a nervouse chuckle.

"You chose the right class then, kickboxing combines a lot of skills from both of those disciplines," he says, clasping your shoulder in a friendly manner. "You did good," he says, and you feel yourself flush a bit.

"Th-thanks," you say, and wince at the stutter in your words, but John only smiles down at you.

"Do you have any hand wraps? Boxing gloves?" he asks, letting go of your shoulder. Somehow you already miss the warmth.

"I have hand wraps from boxing, but that's it," you say, shrugging.

"That won't be a problem, we have plenty of gloves you can borrow," he says, before you hear a bell ring out.

"Ah, class is starting. Just grab a jump rope for the five minute warm-up," he says, pointing toward the wall where a collection of jump ropes were before taking his place at the front of the room.

Grabbing one quickly, you hurry to an open spot and begin.

~

...5 minute feel like an eternity.

You're painting like a dog in the heat, your face warm with exertion as the timer finally finishes.

"Don't worry," John says with a deep chuckle. It was unfair how velvety smooth his voice was. "We'll get your endurance up in no time."

Somehow you feel your face heat up even further, and glance at anywhere but John's devastatingly blue eyes.

"I have no doubt," you murmur before rushing to put the jump rope back.

"Okay, we'll start out with partner work. Usually I would start with bag work but since we have a new member," he gestures toward you, and you wave awkwardly to the rest of the class, "I thought it might be best to return to the basics. Pair up, and we'll work on the basic punches first. Jab, cross, hook, et cetera. Go ahead," he says, before turning towards you.

"You, my dear, will be working with me. Let's see how much boxing stuck, hm?" he says. "Gloves are over there, grab a pair and we can begin."

"Yessir," you squeak, the prospect of training with the head coach a bit daunting.

"No need to be nervous," he says, nudging you lightly toward the shelves where the gloves were. "I just wanna get a grasp of how much you know, and what we need to work on, yeah?" he says with a kind smile, and you nod before grabbing a pair of gloves to use.

The one glove goes on without issue, but the other glove betrays you. The strap you struggle with, hand motions limited to crab movements as you try to grasp it enough to attach the velcro.

You hear John laugh lightly again as he watches you struggle before he grasps your hand in his, doing the strap for you.

"Thank you, coach," you say, and he hums in response, eyes seemingly lost in thought for a moment before refocusing on you.

"Let's begin, yeah?"

You nod in response, moving to a more centralized area of the gym. You move into the fighting stance you remember, and he nods approvingly.

"Good, that stance is what I like to see. Do you remember your jab?" he asks, and you hesitantly throw out a punch you recall being called a jab.

"There you go. Try adjusting your wrist to a vertical position rather than a twisting out. Its not incorrect, and I'm sure that's how you learned it, but," he explains, grabbing your gloved hand for a moment. "When your punch is horizontal, your wrist wants to take the majority of the impact. Instead, we want it vertically, so that the impact is distributed throughout the forearm all the way down to the elbow," he says, his fingertip barely ghosting down your arm, but it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

You nod, the heat in your face no longer just from exertion anymore. Adjusting your stance, he holds out the pad for you to hit again, and you listen to his advice.

A delighted grin splits his face at the impact.

"Atta girl, you listen well," he says, and you mutter out a "thanks".

Holy HELLS, the temperature in the room felt like it was rising by the second.

In your embarrassment, you fail to notice the slightly smug expression on John's face, your reactions priceless.

Recovering, you reset, glancing back up at him as he nods.

"Again."

a/n: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT BLURB, RAHHHHH. i was supposed to stusy half an hour ago :/ anyway, this fic is purely because i had my trial class for kickboxing today lol, and is almost based entirely on true events :p (though yknow, the coach was not john price and flirting with me, :/)

ANYWAY, i might start a series of this...we'll see what happens :))

[ozzgin]

HIII I LUV UR ACC <33 🫶 can i request a reader that is as cute as a bunny but she is a bit bratty with any baki character ^^ have a good day!!

Thank you and sure! Apologies for the delay. The idea reminds me a lot of Hatsune Miku’s “World is Mine”, so I went for a similar protagonist.

Baki Characters x Cute Bratty! Reader

Featuring Baki and Jack Hanma, Kaiou Retsu, Hanayama Kaoru and Katsumi Orochi. And a reader that has a cheeky attitude behind all that cuteness.

[Baki Masterlist]

Baki Hanma

Baki is a mischievous one himself, so he finds your attitude cute and loves to entertain it. If you’re being bratty, he will either spoil you or mimic your behavior with a pout. What, you didn’t think two can play this game?

If he does spoil you it will be accompanied with the proper theatrics. “But of course! Who dared to upset my Princess? Point to the disturbance and I shall take care of it at once!” He is not embarrassed to be seen servicing you, and who would even attempt to question it? One knows better than to mess with the younger Hanma.

Sometimes Baki might be in a sour mood, or simply focused on his training. In such cases he will greet your demands with a sad smile and swear he’ll make it up to you as soon as his anger tones down. If you promise to behave, you can even help him train. He could use an extra weight.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama isn’t quite sure how to deal with you. You’re so cute and frail, and yet every now and then you surprise him with a sassy attitude. Alas, he loves spoiling you so he will eventually give in to your demands, however outrageous they might be. He is the head of the yakuza, after all. You don’t need to hold back.

Sometimes he might take your statements literally, for the better or worse. You stomping your feet and angrily wishing whatever caused your distress would just disappear? You’ll have to quickly clear it up and explain it was just a tantrum. He doesn’t…actually need to eradicate it. Please.

If Hanayama is in a bad mood or occupied with work (leading a gang often proves to be a busy matter), he will have his lackeys readily available to you. Naturally they are to display the utmost compliance when servicing the future Ane-san of the Family.

Kaiou Retsu

Retsu finds you downright adorable and would do anything for your sake. It’s in his nature to be caring and kind towards those he loves and cherishes. Truly, it seems almost impossible to ever refuse your whims, his heart tugging whenever a frown might darken your features.

…Or is it? His willingness knows no boundaries, except for when your safety or comfort might be at risk. If your tantrums involve something he deems improper, not only will he disregard your attempts, but also lecture you vehemently. You almost feel like you’re once more in school, scolded by the strict teacher for being naughty.

Overall Retsu is rather rigid and awkward when it comes to your mischief. He is a man of discipline, but that has always only involved him. The etiquette he follows and expects from other warriors doesn’t extend to his beloved partner.

Katsumi Orochi

Similar to Retsu, Katsumi is also surrounded by stern expectations. He won’t hesitate to flatten down any of his Dojo attendees for the smallest sign of disobedience or misdemeanor. When it comes to you, however…

Everyone can tell he has a soft spot for you. From the facial expressions to the tone of his voice, his conduit switches in a matter of seconds. His ardent, adoring smile never falters when interacting with you. Your bratty attitude just makes his heart melt. The fact that you trust yourself to be cheeky around him reinforces his role as your partner, in his mind.

Sometimes even you feel like his spoiling might go overboard, but that’s what you like about him. He’s at your feet, ready to meet whatever desires you bring up. “Anything for my Princess” is his catchphrase around you.

Jack Hanma

You’d think Jack wouldn’t be the type tolerate certain behaviors. Plenty of people have gasped in anticipation upon witnessing your bratty attitude towards the tall man. Is he going to be angry? Will he yell at you? Alas, they just don’t know Jack well enough. His patience is unbreakable for things that matter to him.

He just quietly goes along with your orders. If you suddenly stop in the middle of the street and demand he holds your hand in this instant, he will comply with a faint smile. He enjoys entertaining you, he just won’t express it as openly as others. He’s your very own stoic Prince.

If you’re being particularly bratty and he’s not in the mood to react to it accordingly, he will just pick you up - regardless of where you are - and carry you home for a snuggle until you calm down or rectify your behavior. If you think about it, it’s not much of a punishment. And you can’t say no to being buried within his massive frame for warmth.

[rosyheretic]

little bird (part 1) (steve rogers x fem!reader)

summary: steve rogers has been acting strangely around you for months, and now you know why: he found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you until you couldn't take it, as penance for your insubordination in the field. how much of steve's provocation can you take? and does he enjoy working you up?

warnings: explicit sexual content, upcoming smut, post-endgame avengers au where everyone lives and stays, witch reader, DIRTY TALK, sparring, voyeurism, humiliation a little

notes: hi hi hello! my name is april and this is my first fic on this account. i just can't get steve rogers out of my head and need to express myself tbh. so i hope you enjoy! i love to write, so let me know if you have any requests for steve (or bucky perhaps in the future). and let me know what you think of this one. hopefully this draft is not too rough.

"sweetheart, throw one more thing at me and there will be consequences," steve said gruffly from the other side of his kitchen. his expression told you this would be your final warning.

your hands cast a pink glow and the vase on the table next to you began to levitate. it flew toward the captain and just barely missed his head.

"you knew," you said lowly. "you knew and you were fucking with me."

"i might have heard something from natasha, who heard something from wanda," steve tried to minimize his knowledge of your feelings for him. "your thoughts were too loud, i guess."

"oh, so you decided to tease it out of me in front of everyone?!" you asked, incredulous.

"it's only fair, little bird. you were openly insubordinate from day one," he reminded you. he took a few steps toward your body, which was floating on a cloud of pink a few inches above the floor. "i had to put you in your place. plus, you're cute when you're embarrassed."

with a flick of your wrist, you sent steve flying backwards into the wall. he grunted but made a quick recovery, and in a flash he was next to you again.

"what did i say about consequences?" he whispered in your ear.

"i didn't throw anything at you," you replied, a bratty smile on your face.

"you're out of control. and as the captain of this team, that's a problem for me," steve continued, his hands roaming your body to coax you into submission. "i'm a patient man. you will learn discipline, no matter how long it takes. but i doubt it'll take long for you to fold, because i know all your weak spots."

you shuddered, unconsciously leaning into his touch. in an instant, he manhandled you so your feet were on the ground and pinned you against the counter. steve slotted his right leg between yours, just under the hem of your dress.

"there's this one, of course," he teased, flexing his toned thigh and grinding his knee against your clit through your panties. you couldn't hold back your whimper. "you like that? yeah, i bet you do. can't help how wet and tingly you get around me."

---

once, you and steve were paired up for a sparring match in the gym. according to the avengers' training rules, you weren't allowed to use your powers, so it was bound to be an unfair fight. no matter how much you bitched and whined, you couldn't get out of the match.

"you know if this were a regular fight, i'd kick your super ass, rogers," you taunted as he circled you.

"you think about my ass a lot, y/l/n?" he countered smugly, eliciting laughs and cheers from the other avengers. while your face burned in humiliation, steve pounced. he had you under him in a matter of seconds. one of his hands rested high on your thigh, forcing you to the ground, and the other bound your hands together above your head.

while you thrashed uselessly beneath him, steve brought his lips to your ear.

"i know what this does to you, me pinning you down," he murmured. "i can hear your heart racing, i can feel the heat between your legs, i can fucking smell you soaking your panties."

"time!" tony called, and steve withdrew. your skin tingled with the afterglow of his touch. you huffed and got up, trying to save face by acting unaffected.

"you okay there, y/n?" bucky asked, an amused smirk on his face. "you didn't last very long."

"she's alright, pal," steve answered for you, putting a hand on bucky's shoulder and leaning in. "just a little... frustrated, is all."

---

you felt another gush of wetness seep out of you at his filthy words. he pressed hard on your clit for emphasis, and you jerked in his hold. his hands then ran up your body and came to cup your breasts.

"and these... how many times have you imagined me squeezing them, telling you how soft and pretty they are? i know you were thinking about it when i gave you that shoulder massage."

he was dead-on.

---

after you wrenched your arm on a mission in tokyo, steve had insisted on giving you a massage. he claimed to want to "keep you comfortable," feeling a responsibility as your leader to look after you. you were one of the youngest avengers, after all.

he toyed with you—using his big supersoldier hands to provoke a reaction from your body, only to then leave you wet and unsatisfied. even worse, he did it on the quinjet in front of natasha, sam, and bucky. he stroked all over your body, smiling as he watched you squirm and whimper, basking in his power over you.

---

"dickhead," you whispered, your voice less venomous and more flustered than you intended.

"good point, pretty girl, i almost forgot about that," he replied with a cheeky grin. "how many times have you fantasized about feeling my big cock inside you?"

---

one movie night at the avengers compound, steve showed up wearing only a thin tank top and tight flannel pajama pants. you shuddered and pressed your thighs together when you saw him walk into the kitchen, looking so sexy. seeing the desperate look on your face, he had the audacity to wink at you.

"when are you gonna take notice of the fact that you're huge, steve? you need clothes that fit your supersoldier body properly," you chastised him to cover for the fact that the sight of his skin turned you on so much.

"i suppose you're right, doll," he responded, smiling coyly. "guess i'm still getting used to being big."

"serum makes everything bigger, doesn't it stevie?" bucky strolled into the kitchen, winking at his best friend. "so difficult to adjust."

your knees went weak at bucky's words, unable to stop imagining the monster dick hiding under steve's slutty sweatpants. you excused yourself to the restroom, hearing bucky and steve chuckle behind you.

when you returned to the living room for movie night, you made the horrifying realization that there was no seat left for you. everyone sat in their own individual recliner chair, wide enough for two small people or one supersoldier.

some of the new agents had shown up to movie night, excited to bond with the avengers. this left you sitting on the floor between two seats. both were empty, but reserved with bags. at least it had decently thick carpeting.

"aw, honey, no room left for you?" steve cooed as he and bucky strode back into the room to take their seats. "you're not sitting on the floor. don't be ridiculous. we can share."

your eyes widened and you stood up uneasily. he sat down in his chair and gently pulled you into him, leaving you perched on his left leg. this would be your undoing.

throughout the movie, the captain kept flexing his strong thigh underneath you, sending pulses to your clit. on the third flex, he feigned innocence when you gave him a dirty look.

you tried to change positions so you were no longer straddling his thigh and eventually wiggled free of him. while you considered your next move, he threw his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. soon you were sitting between his spread legs, feeling his cock through his sweatpants.

"why are you flyin' away, little bird?" he whispered in your ear, his hot breath making your head feel warm.

you couldn't help but rub against it. you had no choice, really. you were so turned on and delirious that you could only obey your dirty instincts.

when his length began to harden from the friction, you gave him a victorious smile over your shoulder. even though you were desperate for him, he couldn't deny he liked it now.

your smile faded when you made eye contact with natasha, who gave you a knowing smirk in return. god, how many people knew about this?

no. you can't do this, he's your captain. it's indecent, and he only means to humiliate you for your desire. you snapped out of it, breaking free of steve's hold and taking him by surprise. "i gotta go to bed," you managed, and darted off to your room.

that was the end of the encounter, or so you thought. later that night, you woke up to the sounds of steve groaning on the other side of your shared bedroom wall. he sounded pleasured and pent-up at the same time.

unable to resist temptation, you used your magic to project some of your energy into his room, allowing you to see him.

the sight was magnificent: captain america with his hand wrapped around his cock, moaning and grunting as he stroked himself. and oh, what a cock it was. slick with precum, long and thick and bigger than any you'd ever seen before, even in porn. you wanted his hot, hard length in your—

---

"i know you've seen it. that night at the compound, you watched me touch myself," steve rasped in your ear, caressing up and down your hips as he held you against the kitchen counter.

"how did you—"

"i saw your little pink sparks floating by my door," he interrupted you.

"okay, yeah, i'm desperately attracted to you! is that what you wanted to hear? i won't talk back or disobey your orders anymore. just please, don't humiliate me any more!"

"humiliate you? oh no, honey, you've got it all wrong. i wanted the team to know so that they'd understand i had you under control. can't have them thinking i'm a bad captain, right?"

"well, it's still embarrassing and degrading."

"not if i want it just as much as you," he said gently. "look, i was teasing you because i like to see you squirm. because i like you too. quite honestly, i have to fight like hell every day to resist the urge to take you. bend you over the counter, throw you down on my bed, fuck the attitude out of you."

you paused for a moment, stunned into silence. "and the others?"

"they're laughing at me as much as they are you, if not more. because i can't control myself around the girl who talks back to me. you make me so hard all the time, baby."

the words were music to your ears. you were dripping in your panties as he rubbed himself against you through his boxers.

"then lose control," you said.

[dragongirlintestines]

A whole adventuring party finds themselves outmatched in my lair. Really, who wouldn't be.

Unfortunately for them, I tend to be hungry when I wake up, and despite what they might want to believe, adventurers are generally made of meat. Really, an ideal meal for a dragon to wake up to.

(fatal vore, gore, unwilling prey, sexual content, noncon)

I've already circled around them, cutting off their escape route and forcing their healer and mage to beat a hasty retreat, throwing off their casting.

The heavily armored one seems to want me to keep my attention on him, and I'm fine with that. He won't last long, certainly not long enough for the archer to find a spot to shoot from, nor for their spearwoman to find any weak spots in my scales.

I think I'll show that knight what he's up against, just to see the party's reaction. His sword is a decent piece of work, but nothing fantastic, so I have no qualms about catching the blade in my claw and shattering it as he takes his next swing.

Crystalline and pure, the sound of hardened steel shattering like glass rings through the cavern, and I drink in the terror as the ragtag band of adventurers calculates just how in over their heads they are.

While he's recovering from the shock of his blade shattering, I take the time to bat him aside like a bored cat, turning my attention to the spearwoman attempting to circle my flank. She wasn't expecting my gaze to fall upon her so soon, and I can see the terror in her eyes as my jaws descend. I can taste the blood on my tongue, mingled with the iron and oil of her mail. It's a pungent, bitter mix, but not entirely unpleasant, enjoyable as one might find a strong tea. My throat rumbles in delight as toned muscles reflecting years of training slide down my gullet, her thrashing, desperate struggles pleasantly kneading my insides.

The knight has regained his senses by now, but at this point, any combat discipline the group may have had is shattered. They all watched in terror as I devoured their comrade, and they know it's only a matter of time before they meet a similar fate.

My gaze likewise lingers on their figures, picking out my next course. The fighter was a delicious starter, I think, but I could go for something lighter, more delicate. The knight will be the main course, he's far too dense to be anything else, and peeling his armor will be good fun. The healer, well, she looks fatty and sweet and utterly terrified at the prospect of becoming a meal, so I'll save her for dessert.

That leaves the mage and the archer. The mage seems to be taking her sweet time channeling something, so I might just let her keep at it for now. Which means the archer is my next course.

A swift wingbeat staggers the knight again, putting him flat on his back, and propelling me towards the succulent huntress. A hasty shot glances off my scales, before I fall upon her. My claws clasp around her, tearing into her light armor, allowing me to easily tear it away from her form. Blood splatters the nearby wall as my talons strike deep, and the sweet sound is screaming fills the air. My tongue lashes out, wrapping her up in its cruel embrace, and I taste the delicious flavors of blood and oiled leather. She writhes in its grasp, but her struggles are futile as the muscular appendage pulls her to the back of my gaping maw. Her body folds in half as she slides backwards down my throat, and I take the opportunity to stand up on my hind legs and trace her bulge all the way down my gullet, before she settles into my stomach with her ally.

"Now it's time for the main course," I muse aloud. I wrap around on myself, serpentine in my motion, prowling like a cat, before pinning the knight to the ground under one claw. An idea strikes me, cruel and brutal. I gently lift the knight up to my jaws, holding him by the scruff of his neck. Any sense of honor he might have had is long gone, and he thrashes against his fate. But I will not swallow him immediately, not yet.

My jaws close gently, tapping my victim in a cage of wicked teeth. I can feel his feet starting to slide down the back of my gullet, but he is doing his best to avoid slipping. No matter. Deep within me, I feel an organ in my chest compress, and a familiar heat rises in my throat.

The screams of a burning man fill the air, mingling with the scent of roasting muscle and rendering fat. The oily flavor drips down my gullet, and I relish its taste. Leather straps and clothes char to cinder, and the metal plates of the knights armor glow white hot as they are bathed in flame. My tongue flicks into slots between armor plates, peeling them from seared flesh. One by one I spit the still glowing metal pieces to the ground, taking my time enjoying my charred treat.

One final boot drops to the ground with the muted *thud* of hot iron, and I allow the blackened morsel to be gently pulled down the back of my maw into my guts. Upon its entry into my stomach, I am rewarded with several pleasurable kicks from the other occupants.

Lighting crashes from across my lair, dancing through my scales and leaving tingling paths in its wake. It stings, and I look over to see the mage, staff outstretched, staring at me.

"Ah, the little goddess seems to have overestimated herself," I tease, settling into a stalking crouch as I prowl towards the robed woman. I note that her healer companion seems to have slid away while she had my attention drawn, and I realize I've left the exit unguarded.

Not that it matters for long. In the mage's panic, I see her eyes flicker over to something, or someone, and my tail lashes out at where I can see her focusing. Sure enough, I am rewarded with a gasp as my tail encircles my soon to be dessert.

"two tender little mages left..." I purr, stalking towards my next victim. "Oh, I've really spoiled myself now."

The morsel before me can't help but tremble in terror. A muffled scream emanates from my belly, and something lurches, sending pleasurable tingles down my body. This is going to be delicious, I think to myself.

I swipe my claw forwards, tearing through the fragile fabric of the mage's dress. It falls away like tissue, revealing the succulent, tender body underneath. Her scream echoes through my lair, the perfect pitch of terrified prey, simultaneously harmonizing with another shriek from the morsel wrapped in my tail.

"No need for that," I growl, as I stuff the tip of my tail into her mouth, muffling her screams. The healer writhes against my grasp, her impotent moans soaking around the tail stuffed down her throat. "You'll get your turn."

I turn my attention back to the nude mage before me. She's quivering oh so adorably, barely making a move to flee as my tongue wraps around her waist. I take my time drawing her back into my jaws, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of fear. Now that the threats are dealt with, I want to play with my prey. I close my jaws gently around her body, entrapping her fully within a cage of teeth, before I turn to the morsel in my tail.

I withdraw my tail from her mouth, a strand of saliva trailing between them, before, with another swift motion, I toss her to the floor before me. One swift strike, and her robes too fall away like autumn leaves. Her body is soft, well rounded, with plenty of fat padding out her abdomen. Tantalizingly tender. She whimpers and tries to cover herself with her hands. Such a cute instinct, really.

I open my maw, using my tongue to rotate the victim inside so she and the healer can look into each other's eyes, before I lower my head to the floor. The mage reaches, crying out in desperation for the healer to save her. It's adorable, really. Two doomed meals reach towards each other, fingers just grazing, before, with one quick gulp, they are separated again. The cry of despair filling my cavern is heavenly, as is the feeling of the mage's slender form sliding down my gullet. She's in shock, barely struggling as she is escorted to her tomb.

As the mage reaches my stomach, I slide my jaws slowly around my dessert. Such soft flesh deserves to be played with, and I toss her about with my tongue as I lift my head from the ground. Meanwhile, my stomach has begun to surge and clench around the struggling forms in my guts. A wave of pleasure washes over me as the surviving morsels coordinate an assault on my digestive tract. In response, I let out a satisfied growl, shaking the woman in my jaws. Shortly thereafter, I feel something snap as my belly delivers retribution for the assault.

Simultaneously, the morsel still waiting to be swallowed has my tongue's attention. The tip of that muscle plays over her curves, teasing moans and noises of protest from her. The probing tip traces around sensitive nipples, lapping up their oily flavor, before slowly delving between her thighs.

My victim thrashes, but as she does so, I close my jaws, allowing my teeth to pin her arms with a gentle reminder, drawing just enough blood for fear to hold them in place. My tongue laps at her sensitive core, eliciting more moans of protest and pleasure. It's quite cute, really, and soon, despite herself, I find her body pressing into my taste buds.

As her motions and vocalizations reach a fever pitch, I press in deeper with my tongue, while lessening the pressure on her arms. She grinds, hard, desperately trying to reach climax, not realizing that I'm beginning to swallow. She bucks, in a fit of lust, before the realization hits. My throat engulfs her in its fleshy grip, pulling her inexorably down. I can feel her writhing within me, her body wracking with pleasured convulsions a moment before sinking into my belly.

Ahhh.... A whole five course meal, still fighting the inevitable in my guts. I roll onto my back, enjoying the panicked motions of my victims as they try to reorient themselves. I turn my tail on myself, the tip toying open a slit between my thighs, and begin to tease. My belly churns, ravenous, as I feel hands and feet press desperately against my inner walls, coordination giving away to panic as acid begin to sear tender flesh. I relish the sensation of finishing off a filling meal, and plunge my tail deep as I feel several cracks in quick succession, followed by a scream. Another plunge of my tail leaves my body shivering, further helping to massage digestive juices into my screaming, thrashing prey. Something caves, a ribcage or a skull, and one morsel gives up the fight. Another stroke of my tail and my body is wracked with orgasmic convulsions. Two more wet crunches, and the wave resounds through my core, driving my pleasure to new heights. One final clench, and the last morsel is churned to a bloody mess in my guts. Slowly, like waking from a coma, sensation returns to my limbs as pleasure recedes, replaced by the satisfying flow of a meal slowly slipping into my intestines. It's going to be a lovely evening.

[sonamytrash]

Early spring

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy, Levi Ackerman, Levi × reader, fem reader.

The morning mist swirled lazily through the training fields, clinging to the dewy grass and the stables like a ghostly veil. The morning drills were going smoothly, with the cadets executing their maneuvers with precision and discipline.

The rumor mill had been working overtime, spinning tales of how you had both met, how you had fallen in love in the underground, and how you had both managed to keep the relationship a secret all these years. Some claimed you both eloped, others that you'd run away from home. Despite what may or may not be true, one thing was certain: Your relationship was a popular topic amongst gossiping teens and bored soldiers of the scouting headquarters.

As you walked by the training grounds greeting the cadets politely, the group exchanged knowing glances, Armin knew they were all thinking the same thing. It was obvious that you were pregnant, and it was even clearer that their captain was the father. The news had been spreading through the headquarters like wildfire, and even though they knew it was a private matter, they couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and curiosity about it.

Your pregnant belly, rounder and fuller by the day, strained against the fabric of your uniform, betraying the secret that you were trying to keep. But for your part you seemed to be taking it all in your stride, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at all the attention but even still, a small smirk played at the corners of your lips now that the cat was out of the bag. And Levi, his expression was unreadable as usual. But there was a softness to his eyes when he looked at you that spoke volumes. It was clear that he was overjoyed at the news, even if he wasn't the sort to show it openly.

Sasha furrowed her brow. Based on her numerous siblings, she was no stranger to the topic of pregnancy and babies. "It's hard to say for sure," she paused thoughtfully. "but based on how she's been acting and how big her belly is getting, I'd guess she's at least four months along." Armin nodded in agreement, "Captain Levi has been even more protective and attentive towards y/n lately too."

Ymir spoke up, her voice tinged with amusement. "Well, boys and girls," she drawled, "I guess we all owe Ymir a drink for predicting this. I called it months ago that y/n would be knocked up by the end of the year."

There were a few snickers groans and chuckles around the group. Even though she was usually pretty outspoken, no one could deny that she was spot-on with this prediction.

As they continued to talk, the topic eventually turned to the future. Armin wondered how you and the Captain would balance your duties in the regiment with raising a child. Krista pointed out that the baby would probably be the cutest thing in the world once it was born. Mikasa agreed, adding that a baby was a wonderful thing. Even though there were still questions and concerns, there was an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation in the air.

Levi, always the picture of stoicism, suddenly appeared, snapping the group to attention. His eyes scanned the assembled group, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and commanding. "Keep your eyes on the target, keep your minds sharp, and keep up with the training."

The group remained uncharacteristically silent. His piercing gaze continued to sweep across their faces, his expression unreadable as ever. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke again. "Is there something that's distracting you?." They knew that he wouldn't address the elephant in the room unless he was asked. A hush fell over the group as Connie ventured the question. "... When's the baby due, captain?" There was a collective holding of breath while waiting for his answer. Fear behind their eyes at Connies stupid question that was bound to get them assigned the worst chores for the rest of the month. Levi didn't seem fazed by the question in the slightest, and his expression remained unreadable. "We're not entirely sure yet, but we're thinking early spring." Levi calmly replied, and if they weren't mistaken, a hint of affection was present in his voice. The cadets exchanged glances again, a mixture of joy, surprise, and relief.

He paused, then added, "But for now, focus on training, brats."

They quickly resumed their training. And through the remainder of the day, whispers continued to circulate about the impending arrival of yours and the Captains baby. Some speculated about the baby's gender, while others discussed the potential names they thought would suit.

Later that day, you knock softly on the captains office door, waiting for permission to enter. Once you do, Levi looks up from his desk, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips upon seeing you. "You handled that well, love," you tell him, your voice quiet but sincere.

"Well, we've certainly got everyone talking," he said, gesturing for you to come over. You smiled playfully, taking a seat on his lap. "Well," you pause. "It's one thing to keep our relationship a secret from everyone, but it's another thing entirely to try to keep a pregnancy under wraps for nine months." You chuckle. "But we gave it a shot. I think four months is pretty impressive." Levi chuckles softly, reaching out to take your hand in his. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving your face, his other hand wrapping around your waist and resting gently on the bump beneath your uniform. "We'll have to try harder next time."

[dontbesoweirdkira]

If you're taking requests, would you be so kind as to write Yandere mk11 Kuai Liang and Hanzo? Seperately or together, whichever you prefer.

They'd be desperate af I KNOW IT IN MY HEART. Creepy and thirsty for attention n shit.

A/N: yuppoop! I hope you enjoy. I love them both in mk11. Their duo is so cuteeeeee!! I hope you enjoy because I was fully yapping in this. Is it obvious I love hanzo more?

Warnings: Yandere themes and behaviors

Requests: open

Masterlist

We all know what hanzo has been through and how hard he’s been working towards redemption. He’s forgiven enemies and his troubled ways are all a thing of the past now.

Today he’s working towards a new and better life for himself, one without any vengeance or unnecessary violence.

That was all until he met you..

From the moment he laid eyes on you, you set off a fire in him that he thought he burned out years ago.

Your elegance/poise, your sharp witted nature, and your sense of courage are things that caught his attention.

Hanzo had convinced himself that he could never love anyone again, not in the way he loved his wife at least. She was perfect in every single way, the only one of her kind to ever grace this earth.

No one could ever replace or come close to her…except maybe you.

Hanzo can’t help but to be utterly consumed by you and stalk your every move. Being in your general vicinity and studying your interactions pleased him..

You’re so much like her and there's a fire that burns so hard for you, one that is steadily burning out of control.

Old habits and mindsets are starting to creep back into him. While Hanzo is falling in love, a trigger is being set off.

He can’t control his anger and his actions as much anymore. He reacts so impulsively when it comes to you. He’s demanding and desperately overwhelming towards you.

He needs to protect you as he is convinced something bad is surely going to happen to you anytime now. This time though, the outcome will be different if you stay by his side 24/7. As it is much to your dismay to have him constantly be over you, eventually you’ll be worn down. You’ll give into his lies about this purely being a learning opportunity. A chance for you to understand more about his clan and to train under him…nothing more of course.

What a horrible decision on his part.

While Hanzo was happy having you close to him so that he could eventually begin to implement his desires on you, he didn’t realize that his friend, Kuai Liang, would also be taking such a liking for you.

You’re a perfect vessel to test the new cryo system on. You’re very skilled, well disciplined, and lacking no intelligence either…Not to mention what fine beauty you possess…you’ll be everything frost isn’t and so much more.

Quickly Sub-Zero’s investment in you grew. He learned from what went wrong before and will make sure you’ll become fully loyal to him and the Lin kuei. certainly you’ll be his equal and a perfect weapon to compliment him in battle.

Not to mention how even though he was a cold and lonely man, he longed for something to fill a void in him. You're just that. For the first time in his life, he truly felt warmth and just like with Hanzo, you consumed every part of his being.

Kuai Liang is cunning and his obsession is well kept to himself. He’s playing the good cop in this situation so well. Every time Hasashi becomes too strict and overbearing, Kuai swiftly swoops in and makes you feel better.

He pretends to not have interest in you beyond a mentor-like friendship but he’s so damn needy. Your admiration sends him over the edge.

Carefully he sends sweet smiles, gentle touches, gifted gestures and words of encouragement your way just to get some kind of praise from you. Subtly though, so as to not alert Hanzo of any of this. You may not notice it, but Kuai can see just how passionate Hanzo is for you.

Part of him kind of feels bad for going behind his friend like this but he just can’t give up his plans for you. He knows that if Hanzo ever finds out any of this that you’ll be immediately ripped away from him and he can’t have that. He needs you.

The rush he gets from when he pulls you off to the side and your pretty eyes are beaming up at him. ✨Don’t get me started on the superiority complex that he has. He loves to flex off his power and strength to you whenever he can get a chance to. This man lives to upstage Hanzo in small ways to prove that he’d be the better man for you.

Hanzo does this as well but with every other man. The members of his clan must know that they will never outdo him, especially not in front of you~

Like the anon said, yes these mfs are creepy and thirsty for literally anything from you.

Hanzo loovvesss snooping through your things to keep tabs on you and I like to think he also will occasionally take things or leave tokens for you….which is actually how he found out about Kuai’s feelings for you.

Of course, as careful as Sub-Zero has been, there was always room for error. Kuai Liang had messed up by leaving a Lin Kuei patch in your bag with a written note that explained it being a gift from him. That he and the clan would welcome you with open arms whenever you were ready to make the move.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Hanzo. From the “innocent” smiles and the “coincidences” when both you and Kuai Liang would go missing every time he’d become preoccupied…how could he be so damn foolish?!

He trusted Kuai as a friend, someone that he didn’t worry would take you away from him. While once enemies, he thought Sub-Zero proved his alliance with him. But he oh was he wrong …Kuai will beg for mercy for undermining him like this.

A jealousy fueled rage boiled through scorpions blood as he tore through your things. He tried to find more gifts like this from him so he could destroy them all. Scorpion wanted him dead for this..and you???

He’s just as upset with you. Yeah, you weren’t officially together but have you no loyalty? The Shyrai Ryu was the first to show you kindness and you repay him like this? You want to side with them? Fine. But there won’t be a Lin Kuei by the time he’s finished with them and you’d have no choice but to run back to him.

“Hasashi?” Your voice broke his emotional rampage and he slowly turned around to face you. He breathed deeply and heavy and his balled fists were flaming.

You were there standing at your doorway with Kuai Liang. It was obvious that you had just finished training together as your clothes were stiff with ice shards and your nose was a bright, pinched pink. Hatashi’s eyes narrowed at the sight of y’all and his lip lifted with disgust

Noticing the state of Hanzo, Kuai Liang quickly got in front of you, guarding your body.

“Surrender her, Liang. Or I will not shy away from burning you alive.”

“You aren’t worthy enough to have her. Y/N will thrive and be far happier with The Lin Kuei….there I will train her to become my equal.”

“ Why would you want Y/N to be out fighting your wars for you? A true man like me would keep her in the safety of my home while I went out to defend her.”

“Oh yeah? Well how did that work out the first time, Scorpion?”

(😩damn)

Something deep down in you told you to run, the situation wasn’t going to de-escalate anytime soon. Their feud didn’t just start here, this goes back long before you, you were just the match that set them off again. No peace would come your way from choosing a side.

You had no idea where you’d go but you got as far as you possibly could before resting.

‘They probably killed themselves already, right?’

Wrong…little did you know that no one actually won that day. While one was severely more injured than the other, nothing was going to stop either party from getting their hands on you.

They both yearned for you and grieved the plans that they had made for you.

Whoever finds you first will have the honor to be the one to mold and brainwash you into being their perfect little companion. Oh and don’t think you’ll have any kind of say in this because they don’t care. Death itself will have to forcibly hold them down before they will ever let you leave them again.

[exhaslo]

hi I love your work <3

Is it okay to write a miguel o’hara x reader and the reader has a personality similar to regina george and he brat tames her + an age gap <3!

I can try! I haven't seen Mean Girls in a hot minute, but I'm sure I remember her personality. Totally going to have some fun with this~

Also, so sorry for how late this is!!! Trying to catch up with the sea of requests now!!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), teasing, orgasm denial, dirty talk

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

Miguel let out a scowl as he watched the new recruits go through a new training session both Peter and Lyla had begged him for. Something about helping the new Spiders learn how to do certain things and yada yada. Miguel only agreed just to shut Peter up and to have Lyla stop shoving the program in his face every five minutes.

However, Miguel was quick to learn that he should have turned this offer down.

The main reason for this grim thought was you. Miguel had been watching you since the training began. You were one of the brand new Spider women who joined and were a rookie. It had only been a month since you took on the role of 'Spider Queen'.

A name so suiting for you. It wasn't long until you took control of the training session and had everyone nearly serving you. For someone only five years younger than him (23), you were the textbook definition of a brat.

--------

"Oh my gosh! You did such a good job with that backflip!" You gasped, cheering on a fellow Spider.

"Thanks! This was my first time," The Peter said with a laugh. You just smiled and waved until he left,

"Ugh, the form was so off. Hopefully he keeps practicing." You groaned lowly.

"May I remind you that this training is for newbies? Including you?" Miguel said with a harsh tone.

Your eyes sparkled as you turned towards Miguel. The leader of the Spider Society, the head honcho, the man you were hoping to try and win over. It was no lie that when you first laid eyes on him you knew that you wanted him to be yours. Who cares if he was little older than you?

"Sorry, can't help it. I was a cheerleader so my flexibility is higher than most." You cooed, rubbing your arm against his. Miguel scoffed,

"Enough to dodge a bunch of Goblin bombs?"

"...Yes...?" You questioned, unsure of what the hell a Goblin was. Miguel just smirked,

"We'll see about that."

Your jaw nearly dropped as you watched him walk away. That man was so hot. You were already wet in your suit. Letting out a small huff, you knew that you had to make him yours somehow. You just needed to keep winning him over.

--------

Miguel was about to lose his patience with you. It had been only two months since you joined and while yes, you were doing better than the other rookies, you were still a headache. It felt like you made it your life purpose to give Miguel more sexual frustration.

The man wanted to put you in your place so bad.

Every time you had something smart to say, Miguel had to hold himself back from disciplining you. Instead, he would say something equally snarky to get you to stop, but that was never enough. You kept getting bolder with your antics.

It started with your suit being too tight. Or a casual rip here and there. Then you kept offering to help Miguel, your arm slipping and you falling on him every now and then. It was torturing him and Miguel was unsure if he could hold himself back the next time you do something like that.

What's worse? Miguel enjoyed your brattiness. He had already thought of so many ways to fuck you into submission. He imagined how'd you look with his cock inside that smart mouth of yours. Or your slutty moans and begs for him to fuck you.

Miguel was just waiting for you to slip.

Waiting for you to finally learn you lesson.

--------

It was going to be just another average day for you. You had given yourself a pre-masturbation session to get you in the groove to bother Miguel. You were hot and ready to hear that man groan in frustration.

Entering his office with a skip, you smiled devilishly as you saw Miguel brooding up in his platform. With a snap of your wrist, you swung up to where he was. The second you landed, you heard that wonderful groan that sent a waterfall to your panties.

"Awe, missed me that much?" You cooed. Miguel glared towards you, his red orbs more prominate than before,

"(Y/N), I have a very small amount of patience right now." He hissed. You huffed childishly and sat on his desk, your legs slightly spread,

"But I need the attention~!"

--------

Miguel shivered as he caught whiff of your arousal. Oh no, he could not control himself. You needed to learn when to leave him alone, and Miguel was finally going to show you.

Webbing your hands to his desk, Miguel grabbed you by the hair and grazed his fangs against your neck,

"¿Por qué no puedes escuchar por una vez? (Why can't you fucking listen for once?)" He groaned lowly, licking up to your lips, "I'm going to teach you some manners."

"I'm such a good leaner," You said with a smirk.

Miguel just snorted before crashing his lips into yours. Hopefully you were a fast learner too, but Miguel was going to make sure to torment you. His hands already against your clothed cunt, rubbing circles around your clit as he kissed you,

"You like being a fucking brat, do you?" Miguel hissed as he watched you twitch and squirm, "No one's ever stopped to show you how to behave."

"Why don't we release my hands and I can be a really good girl for you?" You hummed. Miguel chuckled as he pushed you down against his desk,

"It wouldn't be a lesson if you helped," He used his talons to rip a straight line down your suit to your cunt, "My, what a sight. Already twitching for me?"

"What can I say? You're a good teacher."

Miguel just smirked as he spread your legs out for him. Your juices still flowing so nicely. You had already given yourself some pleasure before hand, but that was not enough. Glancing up at you, Miguel smirked as he licked and sucked against your clit.

"Hah~ W-Wait-" You gasped, body twitching as you felt slightly sensitive after abusing your clit yourself.

"Be a good girl and shh," Miguel hummed.

His tongue swirled and sucked against your clit. Your body squirming and trying to move against your face. Your moans were getting louder as you started to whimper his name. Your pussy started to clench as you arched your back. Right as you were about to cum, Miguel stopped and pulled away.

"N-No...I-I was...almost there..." You cried, trying to rub your legs for friction. Miguel kept them apart, watching you struggle,

"You haven't been behaving lately. Why should I give you that release?" Miguel asked. You panted heavily, feeling your high slowly disappear,

"I-I'm sorry! Please, Miguel! I'll be good!" You begged.

Miguel thought for a moment and returned to your dripping pussy. He licked against your clit, enjoying your desperate moans. Moving his tongue down towards your hole, Miguel resisted a smirk as he cried out his name. Once you were about to reach your high again, he stopped and moved away.

"Miguel! Please!"

"Will you promise to behave? If you don't I'll have to keep teaching you these lessons?"

"Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel! Yes!" You cried.

Miguel chuckled, watching you struggle after being denied of your orgasm twice. He finally decided to give you what you want and returned to eating you out. Despite your bratty behavior, you tasted so sweet.

Feeling you grind against his face, Miguel swirled his tongue inside your hole as you finally cam against his face. Licking up your juices and his face, Miguel moved away from your cunt. He wiped his face and watched you catch your breathe.

"Good girl. I'll give you a new suit, but if you come back and behave, I'll give you something even sweeter." Miguel hummed as he freed your hands.

-------

You laid against his desk, breathing heavily and feeling fucked out. Who would have thought Miguel was so talented with his mouth. If only he didn't torture you. Honestly, now you weren't sure if you should still be a brat, or behave to finally fuck him.

Slowly sitting up, you watched as Miguel returned to work by getting you a suit. A slight smirk formed against your lips as you made your way over to him, your hands reaching his buldge,

"I think you need some attention too~"

"Now, this isn't behaving, is it?"

"Guess I need another lesson?"

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

I hope you enjoyed!! Again, so sorry that this was late!!!

[esggs]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#7 : Jealousy, Jealousy  

[Who are you calling 'onii-chan'? And why does Noritoshi hate it so much?]

[tw: noritoshi kamo x reader, arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, mentions of adultery, couple slurs ig, jealous and pissed noritoshi, reader gets a crush on a non-noritoshi entity, fluff]

#6 - Husbandly Duties #8 - Ice-Cream Date

Noritoshi Kamo was nothing if not a responsible man. If he’s been given a wife to be responsible for, he’ll damn well make sure that he’s doing it properly. It doesn’t matter that the said wife is 14 years old. That’s why he’s already halfway through ‘Raising A Strong Teen Girl: Tips and Tricks for the Single Mother’ in the Kamo library, only two days after the wedding ceremony. Noritoshi Kamo, as we asserted earlier, takes his responsibilities seriously. 

The family is still mad at him for agreeing to Gojo’s demands yesterday. But what’s done is done: you will be attending Jujutsu High. In a week, in fact. The best way to proceed, Noritoshi believed, was to arm you to do your best there. 

You’re scrolling through Instagram when Noritoshi sits on the sofa next to you. Just as the book says, Rule 1: Always maintain a comfortable environment with your difficult teen. “Morning” He greets you. You ignore him. Fucking brat. “Alright then, I see you’re busy. I had some extra dango I wanted to share, but I can-”

“- I’ll have it.” Your attention is still on your phone, but at least you’re talking to him. The book’s working. Rule 2: Offer incentives for good behaviour. 

“The dango comes after though. We have to talk about your schooling first.” 

“UGH!” You look at him with such disgust in your eyes. It’s okay, Noritoshi, she just lacks proper communication skills. Remember, you're the older one. Be calm, be calm… “Fucking fine! What’s there to talk about?”

It must be noted here that this behaviour was reserved only for Noritoshi. With the servants you were kind. With the elders, you were polite and obedient to the bone, having been training to be so since childhood. And with the young Kamo kids, you were jolly friends. 

You weren’t stupid though. Your relations with the above mentioned people were set in stone. With Noritoshi, you know, that the relationship you set when your marriage is still raw will set the tone of your relationship for the rest of your lives. If you were to behave with subservience now, he’ll expect you to lick his feet forever. No, now is the time to be difficult, to upset the power balance, to get the upper hand – 

How the fuck did I get stuck here?

Noritoshi is droning on and on. You’ve lost track a good while ago. Ancient sorcery clans…past users of Distillation… respectable martial arts for nobility…Kamo heritage…proper curtsies…student discipline… Everything that Noritoshi deems important for you to know, he's making sure that you know it. He's even got the whiteboard out.

At least you can chew on the dango Noritoshi gave you. You simply nod along to whatever Noritoshi is saying, not hearing a word, happy to be given dango. From Noritoshi’s point of view, even though you’re not participating in his lessons, you’re still acting decently. Rule 3: Expect only minor behavioural improvements over time. You're not snappy; your husband is happy enough. 

Or so he thought. Why then, is he watching you giggling and playing around with, of all people in the universe, his goddamn half-brother?

—-

Miyumi, the wife of Noritoshi’s father, never extended her open and visceral hatred of Noritoshi towards you. She’s been like a caring aunt to you all your life, helping you adjust to the Kamo household when you first stepped foot in there, letting you go without doing any chores, and supplying you with as much freedom as she could vouch for. Like most of the Kamo women, she pitied you too. 

Of course, not a drop of that pity extended to Noritoshi. Not only was he constant proof of her husband’s adultery, he had also replaced her son, Kanato, as the rightful heir. Unlike most Kamo couples, Miyumi and Noritoshi’s father had actually married out of love. She had remained in love, devoted, beautiful, caring, high-status, respectful, obedient to him all her life, even bearing him a firstborn son– only to be replaced in one fell swoop. And by whom? A low-class non-sorcerer whore? With a dirty little kid simply because he could toss some blood around? 

Miyumi couldn’t even bear the sight of Noritoshi.

She didn’t mind hearing you complain about him though. She liked it when you visited her chambers, she liked talking with you. After so many years, she knew that her hatred was pointless, but the inertia of the hate did carry her forward in this stifling household. As she poured you another cup of tea while you talked about Noritoshi’s newfound determination to be a (boring) teacher who only talked about martial arts without actually letting you practise it, Miyumi smiled and called for her son. 

“He’s just back from Oxford for a week, he’s studying political history there. You haven’t met him, I suppose, little one?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t, Miyu-chan.”

Kanato’s heavy footsteps on the wooden flooring herald his arrival. 

You remember this moment for the rest of your life. Kanato Kamo, your first ever crush. Tall, lean, angel-faced, short hair dyed blonde, wearing pearls on his neck and opals on his fingers, eyeliner on his thin eyes, and a piercing above his smiling lips. Why was he walking in slow-motion? Why did your heart jump when he petted your head? Why did his voice sound like rich dark chocolates when he asked you to call him ‘onii-chan?’ Why… why does his face look so much like Noritoshi?

Your husband, Noritoshi, and his half-brother, Kanato, both look exactly like their father. Even though Kanato is a thousand times cooler and he’s in college and he wears his yakuta like a prince and you call him ‘onii-chan’ and he says he’ll teach you how to spar hand-to-hand.

Miyumi is pleased that you two get along well. Kanato chuckles at his mother's adoration for you, promising with a wink to take great care of you. You think you almost swoon.

—-

For one, Noritoshi didn’t know that Kanato was back home. Two, he definitely didn’t know that Kanato was back home to fool around with his wife. Why then is he now watching you giggling and playing around with, of all the people in the universe, his goddamn half-brother?

“Kanato.” Noritoshi slides open the door to the training rooms. It’s pretty big, stored with various weapons, targets and dummies to practise with, and lined with a soft mattress to break falls. Noritoshi was just here to shoot some arrows when he chanced upon this scene. “I did not know that you were here.”

All three of you noted that Noritoshi called his elder half-brother by his name. Yes, Noritoshi did rank higher than Kanato, but he was still younger in age. So it’s like that, huh, Noritoshi?

“It’s a big house, Noritoshi-san. It’s hard to keep track of everyone.” Noritoshi watches as Kanato winks at you and you laugh again, a blush on your face. (“Everyone, including your young wife.”)  “I was just teaching my little sister here the basics of karate. Since she’s going to Jujutsu High and all.”

“I see.” Noritoshi’s voice is measured. For the first time, it clicks in your head that he might not be happy seeing you so comfortable with his half-brother. And for whatever reason, you actually feel a little bad about it. “I’ll finish her lessons today then, Kanato. Why don’t you go rest a bit? You'd need it, I presume.” It’s clear that there’s bad blood between the brothers. Both just toe the line between politeness and hostility. 

“Presume less, little brother, you worry too much about me. I’m afraid I’ll have to finish her lessons myself, though.” Kanato grins wide. “Since she asked me to, herself.” 

For a second, you think they’ll throw hands (they don’t). You’re starting to think that it isn’t even about you. They simply cannot stand each other. In that case, you choose to pipe up, “I think I’d like to retire actually, I’m tired. Thank you for the tutorial, onii-chan.” You smile at Kanato, who returns the smile, and turn to appease your husband. “Noritoshi-san, if you could help me to my chambers?”

“Of course.” Noritoshi gives you an arm. You wave Kanato good-bye as you walk down the long corridors to your room. As soon as you two are out of earshot, his words bite. “Antagonising me will get you nowhere.”

You get it, really. Kanato’s very existence ruffles all of Noritoshi’s feathers. And to see him get this questionably friendly with his wife… yeah, it’s best not to mention the crush at all. You decide that even though you haven’t done anything wrong per se, but it’s still hurtful to Noritoshi. All right then, you decide. I’ll humour him this one time. 

So imagine his surprise when he actually hears you apologise. You've never been anything but rude or indifferent to him; to hear you say that you didn’t realise how your actions looked on the outside, and promise that you won’t be like that again! It genuinely shocks Noritoshi out of the sulky angry mood he’d slipped into. Rule 4: Always reward any good behaviour. 

Noritoshi gets you two things: another plate of dango and a promise to teach you to spar himself. Maybe, you decide, cheeks full of sweet dango, it’s okay to be nice to Noritoshi, just now and then.

bonus:

“Noritoshi’s still being an ass, I see. Not a lot’s changed here.” Kanato is lazily scrounging through his mother’s collection of jewellery. Kanato likes the more minimalistic ones, a tad bit on the high-fashion hippie line. Miyumi is happy to oblige her son, despite his father’s disapproval. Not like he approves of Kanato in any way. Not since Noritoshi, the perfect son, exists. Besides, he’ll be back to England soon. 

Miyumi’s eyes sharpen at his mention. “My god, did that brat do something to you again? I swear, I–”

“Whoa, mother, no.” Kanato, ever smiling, calms her down. “He was just super jealous that I was training with that kid. y/n. Honestly, mother, I think it was adorable. I just don’t like the way he speaks to me.”

“He has no manners. Do you know he goes out of his way to avoid me?” Miyumi sees her son pick up two lockets, one a Kamo family crest engraved on hard mahogany, another a pattern of ducks in emeralds and rubies. “Don’t bother choosing, take both.” 

“You sure, mother? I’ll kidnap some of your earrings too.”

“Yes, yes, when do I even wear them? Just don’t get them rusted.”

Kanato smiles.

next chapter: #8 - Ice-Cream Date

a/n: are they.. no i shan't say it... warming up... caring about each other's feelings... oh my...

what if reader gets jealous? here u go: Hey Handsome!

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[moondirti]

9. INTROSPECTION

CHAPTER NINE OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter eight / chapter ten ⇀

summary: both you and miguel are given some food for thought following your tryst at the gym

mature | 5.4k words warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, talks of consent, miguel o'hara is kind of nice (?), hobie is a real one as per usual, self-hatred, violent imagery, no use of y/n notes: sorry for the long wait, have a whole scene in miguel's pov as an apology. these chapters are getting longer as our feelings get more complicated (and more dialogue heavy) so bear with me and pls let me know what y'all think!

It feels like a dream.

As tricky as a handful of sand, scooped up into your fist. For as much as you tighten your clutch around it, it evades you, trickling out from between the imperfect gaps of your fingers. You scramble to catch it, to cross your legs so it piles onto your lap, but you’re not as quick or sticky as it requires you to be. It joins the shore, and you’re left piecing it together, one grain at a time.

Your foolishness. His reciprocation. The sheer debauchery of it all. 

Time, too, works against you. It gorges on the bank, like a gluttonous ocean. Every passing hour, the reality of what happened wears thinner and thinner. The details are lost amidst the foam. 

It feels like a dream, and you can’t rationalise it for all you try. 

You’ve had your fair share of regretful hookups; tough mornings after parties, waking up by a person you hardly remember chatting up, your phone clogged with messages from the date you abandoned. The memories are piled up somewhere, tamping the shame that occasionally spiles at their mention. When ratioed against your life as of late, however, they surmount to nothing. Small blips in judgement made by the woman you no longer are. 

What happened with Miguel was no blip. 

You’re ruined. The one avenue towards redemption now soiled with spit.

Because sure, it was entirely consensual. You can’t deny the heat that had transpired between you, disgorging the pent up aggression into something unanticipated. He’d been on top, straddling your chest, pinching the breath from collapsing lungs – and maybe the hypoxia had contributed to your delirium, but you’d taken him in just the same. With a fervour; filthily, drunk off the scent seemingly woven into his flesh. You stopped him from moving away, your hand caressing a thick thigh. You directed him into an ever-pliant mouth. 

(What’s worse, you’re still halfway there; stuck between your lust and rationale. 

Left high and dry, as one might say.) 

Regardless, it doesn’t change what you’ve done, nor the consequences it’ll inevitably source. That’s how it is with him – difficult, a meandering path away from the most immediate answer, leading into a compromise that only ever complicates things. That’s how you imagine it going, anyway, towards either of two conclusions:

This stops. Everything – not just the boundary broaching, but your training too. Chances are he rues his misdemeanour far more than you do, prized discipline shattered across a gym floor. And, if it means as much to him as you guess it does, then he’ll take every measure to ensure your temptation is as far away as possible. You’ll be pulled by the scruff – a naughty kitten caught knocking cups off a table – and sent back home by dawn. 

Or– 

You suppress the shiver that slithers up your spine. 

He glazes over it, keeps you around. You’ll bump into him eventually – when your guard lowers enough for his presence to creep up on you – and he’ll call you out for lacking commitment. The lecture already congeals in your imagination, taking on the same stern tone he reserves for your worst, unaffected by your mutual transgression. It would imply he does this often, or is otherwise desensitised to your salacity – which registers as plausible, if only for the ways he’s ignored it in the past. 

In any case, you can’t be normal about it.

Dawn’s pink fingers press you flush against your mattress, cocooned in sheets that have adapted to your warmth overnight. You stretch, working the muscles that have compressed in your sleep, before quickly settling back in again, your face buried in a feather soft pillow. You feel like a cat, lounging in a patch of latticed sunlight, drunk off pure sloth. The indulgence is good for once. Your overthinking tends to be loud, an overstimulating confluence of doubt that leaves you reeling, like you’ve been dipped in static. Here, cozied up somewhere comfortable, it slows to a healthier pace. Contemplative almost, floating beside the dust motes bobbing mid-air.

He’d reciprocated. 

You won’t forget it. Won’t let yourself heal the bruises on the roof of your mouth, or the soreness of your tonsils. He’d cradled your jaw and sought release down your throat, in spite of all the mess staining your relationship’s history. The Miguel who’d tracked you to that quarry wouldn’t have succumbed, nor would he have done so in that storelot, patting you down for your day pass. In much the same fashion that he wouldn’t have remedied his use of that cursed name – Wraith – before you’d told him how much it irked you. 

You knew that something shifted following your confession, cramped between bone-dry rubble. You’d flayed yourself out, a frog killed for dissection, and let him examine the innermost, vilest parts of you. You thought it might’ve been resignation – that tired look in his eyes – the fallout in realising you were beyond reason. But then he’d granted you room and board, this sheltered haven much more favourable than the intermittent state of an apocalyptic world. You’re fed, and clothed, and are physically separated from the criminal anomalies in laser cells. He met you in that gym, ready to push you to the potential he must’ve spotted in order for all the above to be viable.

You hesitate to say it, but perhaps this is the purgatory you’ve been looking for. 

(Had you failed your first test, by tempting an otherwise moral man to spill himself into you?

Or was it the only one; like Eve in Eden, grazing her teeth along the skin of a damned apple?

You don’t want to fall.) 

Your belly rumbles with the intensity of coins rolling down a cobblestone path. It lurches and chatters and draws awareness to the fact that you haven’t eaten in a while, running purely off your will to avoid any human interaction. You’d taken a shower last night after spending the whole day marked with dry cum, heaving within closed quarters in panic. It’s ebbed to a distant hum now, not as prevalent in the backwash of prolonged rest and a cleanse. Your skin feels soft, scrubbed raw with generic-scented soap, and you know that some filling food will bolster you back onto your feet again. 

Only then will you think about where to go from here. Only then will you be able to, sated with everything you can lose if you don’t traverse carefully. 

The henley you slip on is cool against your sleep-soaked flesh, wrinkled in places but snug enough for you not to mind. Already, by wearing civilian clothes, you stand out – a speck of normality amidst the bustling crowd of spider-heroes in spandex. Add it to your reputation for being the bane of Miguel O’Hara’s existence, and you already have a picture not worth changing anytime soon. 

Your joggers follow soon after, loose and sitting low on your hips. You remind yourself to thank Hobie, should you cross paths with him.

Spider Headquarters must have been built to confound you – or any outsider, for that matter. 

Yesterday, you’d carefully mapped your way to the cafeteria, taking note of every sudden turn and the shifting distinctions between up and down. It’d been rudimentary enough, an eventuality if you kept one hand glued to a wall and kept walking straight. But today, the layout has capsized into another labyrinthe entirely. You duck around corners, keeping note of the inverted pathways bridging over your head, only to end up exactly where you started. 

Your stomach continues to clench furiously, revolting at your inattention. Perhaps it would be easier if you attempt one of the alternate routes – the upside down lanes designed for spider-people who can defy gravity – but you aren’t exactly assured in your abilities to stick to upended surfaces. Which you are capable of, just as much as the next, but the blood rush and internal effects are hardly negligible. Your last bid had found you dizzy with chronic vertigo, swallowing the sick threatening to expel from your gut. 

Of course, if you could control your more unique powers, then none of this would be necessary. You’d walk through walls until happening across your destination, like a spectre haunting the wings of a manor refurbished to a point it is not used to. 

Biting your cheek, you turn into an entryway leading to a larger common area. A few strangers hang around, donning masks with upturned eyes and absent mouths. You can’t tell whether they notice your ingress; whether the searing holes along your back are their stares or your own, phantom construction of it. You’ve never been anxious around unfamiliar crowds, but since coming here, your nerves constantly crackle like they do at the end of a bad joke. You feel skinned, exposed to the elements and whatever judgements these heroes might have of you. 

(You wonder whether they can see how rotten you are. Are there senses honed to detect criminals, carnage-destined girls who ruin everything in their wake? 

You’re afraid that, if they do, it’ll confirm all the worst things you feel about yourself.)

Steering out of the room, you step into the monumental embrace of the lobby. It’s busier here – you seek both reassurance and fault in that. You’re less likely to be noticed. If you are, though, it would mean hundreds of eyes on you. You hug your torso and walk faster, faced directly to where you believe the cafeteria is. 

You wish you had a suit of your own; a mask to hide you from the outside world. To occupy yourself from the anxiety torrenting through you, you imagine what it would look like. Surely, you’d take inspiration from the thousands of pre-existing ones. An insignia on the chest, between the clefts of your breasts. Skin-tight, with dual colours in bold shapes. You ponder on whether the scalp should be left open, to allow space for your hair, or if you favour a more streamlined look. 

And the eyes. You filter through the trends you’ve seen thus far. Those cat-like, upturned pits. Jess Drew and her goggles, though those remind you too much of your previous ones. Miguel’s mirrored contours – you’ve always thought his could be likened to a skull’s silhouette, so you vow off the pattern entirely. 

Isn’t it tradition, though, to pull inspiration from your mentor’s design? You assume so, but the notion sits on your brain, unable to dissolve into anything real. After everything that’s happened, besides the shitshow at the gym, he doesn’t feel like a mentor at all. He isn’t the type to coax you on as you carefully tread up a wall, combatting the innate fear keeping from doing so, or to give you the secret recipe for web-fluid. He didn’t even seem occupied in helping you control your power – in fact, it would probably be in his best interests if you kept on living without them. 

But when you’d asked to be taught in the ways of a hero, you’d been under the impression that his tutelage would pertain to all of those things. You’d never been given the chance to learn them for yourself – your home-world a wasteland with limited resources – but Spider-HQ fosters the perfect place for it. Its leader, on the other hand, seems to be more focused on the philosophical, which you’ve no room for. You already grapple too much with your existence as it is. 

By the time you reach the cafeteria, you’ve worked yourself into another frenzy. It doesn’t help that, when you order your burger, it comes out blue and adorned with Spiderman 2099 embellishments. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Bit egomaniacal, innit?” A deep voice sounds from your right. You nearly jolt out of your skin, clutching the edge of the bar to keep you from falling off your raised chair. 

“Hobie,” You squeak, blinking rapidly to dispel the shock from your expression. He gives you a lopsided smile, wiggling his fingers to signal he means no harm. 

“He insists it wasn’t his idea, but I know the truth.” His wicks bounce to obscure his forehead as he nods to the plate. You have to bite your knuckle to hide your pleased smile, delighted at having someone who shares your exasperation. The air balances on the imagery of Miguel going through themed food proposals, amusement imbued while the punk finds a seat next to you. “I heard what happened.” He adds, stretching a long leg to touch the floor, his guitar placed on the table. “With the deal ‘n’ that.”

It doesn’t feel as serious as it ought to be. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve been pushed back into your troubled stupor. Hobie brings a levity to it though, his broaching of the topic bordering on casual, as if anomalies being allowed to stay by the boss that hates them is nothing remarkable. 

“Is it common knowledge?” You ask. 

“Nah.” He grabs a fry. You push the plate towards him. “‘Course that’s just how he wants it.”

“Miguel?” The prod is unnecessary. You can imagine a few reasons as to why he’d require your situation to be kept confidential. None of them appear to be that big of a deal, not with the man you know, but Hobie’s suggestion points to something larger. He doesn’t address it any further, however. You appreciate it, the trust – he’s given you the idea to consider and doesn’t shove it down your throat. It’s a novelty, a bout of crisp air after being compressed in a claustrophobic blind spot for months. 

“Why stick around? You don’t need all this.” He capers on to his next concern. You mark it amongst the others to return to later.

“I’m starting to think that maybe I do.” You reply, candidly. The truth floods from you before you can do anything to stop it, consequence to the quickly alleviating weight on your chest. You guess that it’s the way he listens and inputs his own opinion. It isn’t in patronising riddles, the manner in which everyone else addresses you lately. He lays it down, clear as sea water, to help you find your own reflection on it all. “I don’t know the first thing about being a hero.” 

“Hero, eh? Self-mythologizing term, if you ask me. Case in point,” He points to the burger. A laugh bubbles up your chest. “Everyone here, they’ve lost the plot. Whole point of being a spider-person is your independence.”

(Look where that’s gotten you.) 

“That hasn’t done very well for me in the past.” You tell him, because despite the perspicuous advice, you don’t have the advantage of hope on your side. You can’t leg it and define your own path like he might do – God knows you’ve tried. You’re condemned to this game, this realm of waiting on salvation. 

(You can’t help but imagine it, though. 

Incredulity will accompany you in everything you do. The last time you put your faith in purgatory, it didn’t end so well.)

“Hey. Don’t let me tell you what to do.” Hobie relents. He eyes you like he can plainly read your demurral, tattooed across your cheek. And, when his voice lowers to a whisper, your appetite broils into an anticipatory angst. “But don’t let him do, either.”

The warning seeps into you, nesting a home within your marrow. 

He finds you on a rooftop, hugging your knees to your chest. 

The night had come quicker than the last, like a knife lowering over Nueva York’s pale throat. It’s in preparation for the incoming winter, he knows, the sky bruising to the colour of captured blood, skipping over the blooming orange of a sunset entirely. Regardless, Miguel hardly had time to complete his afternoon patrol when the cloudless dark distended over him, plunging the city into its favoured state for illicit activities. He’d only come back to grab a quick meal before venturing out again – the work of a spider-man, never done. 

But he spots you on his way to his penthouse room, and the blur of flaming adrenaline that sears his lungs is enough to stop him dead in his tracks. 

It’s unjustified, really. Even at first glance, you look thoroughly innocent. You’re slouched in a relaxed – almost foetal-like – position, definitely not one that alludes to your potential self-harm. Nor are you dressed for escape, encompassed in a striped sweater with way too many makeshift mends to offer any real warmth. Your chin is tipped towards the stars, or the train that leads up to them, and he’s got a whole host of spiders on call should you try anything he can’t predict from sight alone. 

He has no reason to suspect you of anything at all. No reason to pause on it. 

Though his instincts blear with panic, ribs compressing to crowd his organs until they scream for respite. It echoes a defunct alarm, from back when spotting you meant catching you and his hatred made all the sense in the world. He’s still so fine tuned for that reality, adapted to the cat and mouse chase of the past year, that its alteration alone is enough to throw him off course. His steps stutter on the ledge of a nearby balcony, neon web dissolving as he retracts it from the wall. 

Part of it too is the memory your frame evokes. It blinks into his mind’s eye so rapidly that it might as well be playing out right in front of him, a lewd illustration of what happened on that gym floor. Your face, framed by his thighs, doing your best to take him in for all his brute thrusts. He swallows the sharp guilt that knots his throat. No lust sparks at the recollection. 

The past week he’s forced himself to revisit a more consistent routine, from back before you portalled your way onto his table. Send at least four anomalies home, then go on morning, afternoon, and night patrols, all the while staying on call. On the occasion that he is asked to assist in apprehending another threat to the multiverse, then he will do so with little effort. Those missions don’t last as long as yours had, and they don’t do much to disrupt his day. It’s painless, uninvolved. 

He needs something difficult, though. A focus that will grind on his nerves, macerating them like pestle on mortar, reducing it to a bitter puree that masks the taste of penitence. He’s alway been better off challenged; the hero's life had found him and reshaped a purpose from frayed bits of arrogance. Then, it was the threat of multiversal collapse, solely levered to his shoulders. He sought for peace in Gabriella, with the life that wasn’t his, but even that had dissolved to make everything all the more punishing. He thinks he’s destined for it now, for a labour that adds to the calluses on his palm. Or – it is perhaps the only thing he deserves, an end for all the misdeeds on his ledger. 

He tallies the tryst at the gym alongside them. It’s been six days since that ended so abruptly, and while the memory smoulders like a scabbing brand, his cynicism can’t heal. He knows he won’t stop doubting what happened – how recklessly he’d taken advantage of you – until he settles it verbally. 

That’s grounds for what happens next, then. To revive something difficult. To settle it verbally. 

He swings to the rooftop you’re slotted on. Although his landing is light, you sense his arrival, jaw tipping towards his presence but doing nothing to look directly at him. He takes it as consolation that you don’t immediately turn away. 

Miguel realises how rare it is a sight, at least to him. In every encounter prior to this, you’ve been running or hiding. Ducking, evading. Fighting with your teeth bared like a cornered viper. You’ve been bloodied or bruised, drained as a hung fawn in a butcher’s shop, cowering from his advance that only threatened to exacerbate it all. There has never been a circumstance between the both of you that called for propriety, for anything other than venom to be exchanged. 

Somehow, if it is possible, you look smaller when you are still. 

Clean too, with gleaming skin that reflects the dim wash of the moon. There are the bandages peeking from beneath your sleeves, bound at your wrist, but it cannot take away from the remarkable chasm between the girl he sees now and the one that was trapped with him on Earth-15. Healthier, with diminished eyebags he remembers being ten degrees darker than your complexion, and a certain air to the way you stoop over your stomach, like it was just sated with a hearty meal. You lack any of the chaos he’s come to associate with you. 

(Pretty.)

It occurs to him that a stable environment might’ve tamed the ferality in you, pinched your paws and declawed any remaining spunk. But, then again, he’s likely wrong about that too. 

Ever since you slipped from his capture that very first time, he’s painted you out to be an opponent of able intensity. Everything you did seemed intentional; the worlds you destroyed, the moments of miraculous circumvention. When you’d phase out from between his arms, he’d curse your timed defence and feel none the more incompetent at having let you go. It only ever spurred him, for he believed that every second you spent roaming free, you were stewing over ways in which you could wreak more havoc. You grew and grew in his mind, transforming into a villain actually worth diverting all that effort to. 

Parasite. A fucking parasite who just won’t quit.

He attributed malice to what had always just been rotten circumstance. 

Perhaps there was never any spunk to begin with.

Because you’re not a villain. You’re hardly even a criminal. You proved as much, crowded underneath that collapsed building, spilling your secrets out onto his lap like a tapped maple tree. The accident with the antimatter, your post-apocalyptic providence. You can’t even control your powers, for goodness sake. 

He feels foolish that his hostility towards you still lingers. There’s no reason for it to hold reign over his brain. 

“Where does it go?” 

He doesn’t have to follow your gaze to know what you’re asking about – the ninety-degree highway, with the train that pierces the sky.

“Up.” 

You scoff, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. He takes a beat to assess the odd-looking cardigan. It glitches through an array of grunge textures, a peculiarity when paired with your basic joggers. Something bites at his gut when he realises why exactly that is, or who exactly it belongs to. Unease – he attributes the discomfort to – for the trouble you might cause should you develop a further friendship with the spider-punk. 

“I can’t see its end.”

“It doesn’t have one. Not really.” He sighs, turning away from you and towards the glimmering beam at the centre of the city. “It leads up to the exosphere.” 

You stay quiet. He glances at you in his peripheral. Your eyes are anything but. They’re wide, flicking through bright little calculations and questions you seem hesitant to speak. 

“There’s a space station there.” He adds.

You shift, posture straightening. “Like the ISS?” 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

The conversation peters out, like a rock skipping over a lake, sinking into an awkward suspension. He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them to hook onto his waist. He wishes he could take the hard reality of things and observe it as a third party, as he does with his dimensional surveillance tablets. It would make it easier to sketch the perfect plan – a way to bend this conversation into something more productive than the topic at hand. He’d watch you for any indication of what you’re thinking – which he feels problematic for doing in real life – and pinpoint the exact moment where it’d be acceptable to bring up what had happened. He doesn’t want to stretch this longer than it needs to be.

Miguel’s about to throw caution into the wind, when you happen to do the same. 

“A–”

“What’s the space station for?” 

Irritation strings him thin, pulsing through the muscles that tense when he clenches his jaw. He counts his breaths, then grounds himself to the hollowness of his anger. When he’d been a father, it was a practice he’d utilised daily. Gabriella was so naturally curious, and his alternate self was a better man than him, raising her in an environment where questions were always encouraged. It took him a while to adapt to her constant quizzing, but he eventually understood how little she knew and how much she relied on him. 

Patience came easier upon extending his regard.

The source to your current fascination doesn’t escape him, either. He remembers it clearly; the backstory that crystallises in his imagination every night before bed. The risks you took to touch the stars, how much it had all meant to you. He closes his eyes, nostrils flaring, before sitting adjacent to you, facing the city. 

“That depends on who you ask.” He starts, slowly. “Originally built by Alchemex for their Mars colony project, it was their base of operations. Launch point too, for those rich enough to afford private space travel. But it was mainly scientists who worked there to maintain the artificial habitats and conduct experiments for further colonisation.”  

“Space travel?” Subconsciously, you inch closer. Your voice climbs a higher pitch, and he can tell he’s piqued your interest. 

“Nothing revolutionary. It’s fourteen months to Mars and back.” 

“Thirty thousandth the speed of light…” Your nod is solemn, almost comically grim. He’s far from familiar with the scientific intricacies behind your statement, but he mirrors your gesture regardless. “Is Alchemax still investing in extraterrestrial colonisation?”

“No. They’re hardly anything anymore.” He doesn’t add that it’s to his credit, and the work he’s done to dismantle their oppressive grip on the country. 

“So…” 

“The space station is publicly funded now. To give a wider population of scientists access to astro-resources, as well as the opportunity to research them without relying on select, potentially corrupt parties.” He recites it like it’s scripture. You absorb it, though, every last syllable, letting it marinate before urging him to continue. “It’s called Second Base.” 

“That’s…” You skip over the awe glazing your gullet, coughing into a snicker instead. “Almost as original as go-home machine. Did you come up with that?”

“Funny.” He counters, suppressing the smirk tickling his lips. “I might’ve pitched the winning vote.”

“They really need to stop listening to you.” 

You don’t emphasise it. In fact, it’s the least conspicuous dig you’ve ever made. But it harks back to who you are – not a partner he can easily fall into a pattern with, this secure camaraderie where jibes are taken in equal measure. He can’t sit here until night dissolves to dawn, entertaining your precise fantasies, or worse yet, give you any hopes of sticking around. 

You’re an anomaly, his responsibility and nothing more. 

(He’s already toeing the line by not sending you back, breaking rules he’s established for everybody else. Despite any good reason for it – the longer you stay, the greater threat you pose to his authority and the society he’s built so meticulously.

‘They really need to stop listening to you.’ 

He’s afraid he’s manifesting that reality by talking to you beyond duty.) 

“We shouldn’t have done what we did.” He says, because delaying it any longer brings a sick sort of dread. What he really means is I, not we – I shouldn’t have done that to you. But it’s easier to force the words when the blame in them is divided. 

Your smile quivers, then drops. The reality of this hits you too. Your eyes harden from their previous, soft wonder. 

“You’re telling me.” Your response lacks any hurt. Monotone, and he’s thankful for it.

“It was dangerous.” 

“You weren’t the one suffocating.” 

The seed of guilt in his stomach sprouts, branches tearing the tissue attempting to suppress it. The momentum dips as he takes a second to gulp it down. When he speaks again, his voice is weaker. Quieter.

“I di–” 

“Don’t. It’s fine. I liked it for what it was.” You interrupt, shrugging. He takes the confession, bunching it up into a pill meant for swallowing. You liked it. You liked it. He loathes to admit that he did too, the issue of consent now aside. “I sucked your dick and you came down my throat. It’s hardly the most romantic thing ever, and I haven’t gotten that twisted. We’re adults. It’s fine.” 

“Por Dios.” He rubs his forehead to dissuade the blush that arises at your explicit phrasing. 

“It hasn’t changed my decision, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m still going to go home.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Then?” 

“It… doesn’t have to change anything else. You’ve been hiding for the past week, your resolve along with you. Are you no longer interested in learning what you can?” Is it because of him, and his gross misuse of power as your mentor? 

But then you look at him, for the first time all night. Your brows are furrowed like he’d just said the most nonsensical thing in the English language. Perhaps he did. He’s not being truthful with his words, this hurried confession strung together with clumsy sentiment. He can sense you trying to piece it all together.

“Of course I am.” You reply after much deliberation.

“To me, it seems like you’ve given up.”

“I haven’t, asshole.” He reels over the hiss, knocked off kilter. It’s only when he revisits his accusation does it hit him how insulting he must’ve sounded. “I was giving you your space. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He’s long forsworn his own proclivity. He’s not like the others. “I can’t send you back unless I’m certain you’re dedicated to the greater good. You said so yourself. I’ll continue so long as I can ensure that future.” You pick at your cuticles. He breaks his tone, so the next question doesn’t ring as interrogative. “Is that still what you want for yourself?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

Miguel doesn’t speak in the following spell of silence. He waits for you to work together the explanation he hears forming on your tongue – a snowball of self-doubt and unsure superstitions, rolling, rumbling. 

Eventually, you muster enough eloquence to spit it out.

“I’m scared to want for anything.” You draw in a shuddering inhale. “My ambition feels like a curse, or the plaque beneath my fingernails. Everything I touch with it turns to rot, festering beyond my control and contaminating everything within its vicinity. With my research, I condemned a whole world. With my running away, I replicated that onto many more. Just look at the repercussions of what happened with…” You gesture vaguely to his crotch. “The smallest things, the trivialest of desires. And perhaps it’s my own selfish inclination towards them, but in what world could they be anything but? I can’t… I can’t rely on my encouragement alone. I don’t trust myself enough.” 

You could’ve stopped at the first sentence, and he would’ve still understood. It hits him almost scarily close to home, right where his heart is still tender and hurting over the fleeting family he once had. 

He’d wanted for something once, too. 

And he appreciates exactly what you need. 

(He’s only seen you work so hard for one thing, and it was in that moment of arrested passion only six days prior – your eyes rolled to the back of your head, working him like a woman starved.

A temporary solution, then; one he has to watch over with hawk-like vigour so that it doesn’t moulder into something else. So long as you understand the boundaries – nothing romantic, only an addition to the encouragement you rely on. So long as he doesn’t lose the plot. So long as you agree, and go home by the end of all of it.

So long as the multiverse stays intact.)

“Tomorrow. Same gym.” He says, standing up. You blink up at him, and it’s only then does he notice the dry tears streaking your cheeks. He opts to ignore it. “Don’t be late.” 

chapter ten

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