#it still looks a little bulky but so far I do actually feel pretty proud! :D
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kinktober day 29 - dirty little secret // love bites
gaz x f!military!reader
[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.3k, forbidden military hookups (i know next to nothing about the actual military lmao), kissing, fingering, biting, implied doggy-style.]
tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass
You were never the smartest one in the class. Doing just enough to sneak by until graduation. A proud C+ student. Not that you were stupid by any measure. No, not at all. You were just more of a hands on learner is all. You thrived in the military. The functional, “street smarts” part of your brain worked to your advantage, but more often than not you were getting dressed down by your superiors as “having to learn the hard way”.
One thing you learned early and quick was not to mess around with Special Forces. Don’t talk, don’t share a table, and definitely don’t fuck them, no matter how much unreleased, frustrated testosterone they filled the air with. They blew in and out of the base you called home quite frequently. For what reason, you never cared to ask. Never even let yourself get close enough to ask. That was their business, not yours.
What you cared about, what was actually important, was learning how to pick them out of the crowd. Their build: overly muscular in an almost frightening way. The way they walked, talked, and dressed, all so different but easy to overlook in the shuffle of day-to-day life. That was the important info to keep at the front of your mind when cruising around for a hookup on the down low.
Was it against the rules? Yep. Was it also heavily ignored? Absolutely, just don’t let pleasure get in the way of business and the powers that be would look the other way. It was a code with three unwritten rules: 1. don’t catch feelings, 2. stay safe, and 3. don’t-
“Hey,” a voice called from behind you.
You pivoted around, hand still on the handle to the supply closet.
“Ah, hey umm . . . hi,” you said, brain stuttering as you took in the man slinking out of the shadows.
He was tall and wide, with muscles more lean than bulky that made you think damn and not oh god why. You think you remembered seeing him around. The way his mustache quirked, spreading with a sweet smile as he leaned next to you, it was impossible not to pick him out of the crowd. His eyes were dark and hungry now, though. His body language more than told you he wasn’t about to bother you for a box of pencils.
“Busy?” he asked, hand tensing nervously on his hip.
You shook your head.
“Cool,” he said with a relieved sigh, spying a look up and down the hallway, “Wanted to ah, you know . . . if you’re not taken,” he rambled, clearing his throat and gesturing his hand, expecting you to fill in the blanks. When you didn’t, just standing there dumbstruck, he bore down on you with a sparkle in his dark eyes. “Just lookin’ for a hookup, love.”
As soon as he said the magic words, your brain booted from zero to fifty. The promise of sex had that amazing motivating affect on you. Getting off with a man as pretty as him, though? You were hopping to it in double time. Yes, sir. No, sir. Whatever he damn well wanted. One hand opened the door behind you while the other grabbed for his wrist, pulling him in as you backpedaled into the closet.
Sgt. Garrick, or Kyle, or Gaz, he introduced himself while you led him deeper along into the long, skinny room, was a fast learner as well. The second you wedged your butt up against the abandoned desk in the far corner, he was clicking right along with you. His strong hands grabbed at your hips, holding you up, palming at your clothed curves as you pulled him down by his collar for a kiss.
He groaned into it, fingers pressing against your pussy over your fly as you slowly found your rhythm in the kiss. You were so thankful he was a good kisser, letting you move around, even reposition his head as you got comfortable with one another.
Not that it was a game killer, you just couldn’t bear the disappointment when whoever you were with either didn’t want to kiss, only looking for a swapped orgasm and nothing else, or was just terrible at it. He had such kissable lips, too. So large, soft, and warm. It would be a shame to deny anyone those, you thought as you caught his top lip in a little bite.
You let your head fall back against the wall with a moan when his hand popped open your fly, not bothering to unzip until he stuffed it down the front of your pants. He smiled, curling over you to nuzzle his nose against yours as he played with your pussy in the confined space. You bit your lower lip to contain a loud moan as his fingers stroked over your slowly soaking panties.
“Wet already,” he groaned, lifting your other leg to curl around his hip.
The position forced his cock to rest against the crease of your thigh, not that you minded. He clearly wanted to take care of you first. You would tame that monster in a few minutes. Your hands flexed on his back as he pressed his face to your cheek to whisper in your ear.
“What do you want?” he asked, pressing a kiss behind your jaw.
“This,” you answered in a breathy whine, urging his hand farther down your pants.
You didn’t have to say anything more. One word had him pulling the gusset of your underwear to the side, fingers twitching as they fumbled through your slippery folds, searching for your entrance. You keened, covering your mouth with the back of your arm, as he pushed his middle finger inside.
“So pretty,” he whispered absently, ignoring your hands clawing down the front of his shirt as his finger dragged slowly inside, probing for your sensitive spots while his thumb rubbed at your clit.
You closed your eyes, writhing on his fingers, whining for more. You felt him start to kiss down your neck, liking a messy stripe across your tendons as a second finger stretched in along the first. You gasped, but it cut off into a silent shriek when his teeth bit into the wet skin he had just created.
“Gaz,” you moaned. You loved it. It felt great, but was he insane? He couldn't mark you up in such visible areas.
“Right there?” he asked, skin still between his teeth.
“Yes,” you answered, clenching around him, pussy drooling into his palm as he stroked that spot again and again. He didn’t stop kissing your neck either, whining as your sensitive skin flushed from his sucking kisses and little love bites.
“God, I love this,” he mumbled into your neck, sucking at the spot behind your ear, fingers jack hammering away as he hurdled you closer and closer to release. Rocking against you, he released from you neck long enough to say, “Can’t wait t’ bend you over the table next.”
The thought of it was enough to send you over, riding his thick fingers as they continued pumping in and out of you, softly squishing and smacking against damp skin. Kyle supported you, squishing you against the wall until your trembling subsided. He pulled his fingers from you while you raked your hands down his chest. You focused on normalizing your breathing and sweat cooling on your brow, not him licking your cream from his fingers. You closed your eyes at it, wishing away the throb between your thighs. Good lord he was trying to kill you.
“Th-thanks,” you said quietly, opening your eyes.
This part was always awkward. Trying to switch positions while your head was still spinning. Action getting broken up for just a bit too long that everything feels forced and weird. It wasn’t, though. Gaz wiped the stray hairs from your forehead, a sweet, dark mirth danced in his eyes that made your stomach drop.
You expected him to drop you to the ground on your still wobbling legs, but he didn’t. He shucked your pants down your legs and tipped you over onto your stomach, sending you sprawling across the metal desk before you could react.
“Gaz!” you squeaked, feeling him buck into the pert upturn of your ass.
His hand ran up and down your bare bottom, leaving to deliver a gentle smack that echoed in the tiny space. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to make the fat and muscle jiggle.
“My turn, baby,” he said, the crash of his zipper cutting through the air.
#mw2#gaz/reader#gaz x reader#starry writes#kinktober 2024#cod fanfic#cod mw2#call of duty#I don't plan to cut things off before I let gaz fuck but it just keeps happening!!!#i feel like i plan so much in my head and then i start to write it and oops 1k is already out 💀
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Lookie! :D
So I watched a tutorial video on Youtube for digital soft shading - something I’ve been wanting to try and get better with. After that, I applied what I learned, and this is what I’ve got so far!
So I’d say this is only about 75% done. The idea is that I’ll refine it until I can take off the line art layer, and it’ll still look like a realistic hand! I feel this is like, a HUGE step in my learning process. Like MEGA huge. Also with me learning more about my CSP program. Clipping is such a powerful thing, Holy Shit, you guys!!!
Anywho... It’s my hope that I’ll be able to eventually do full pieces like this soon! I feel once I can get a little more of this under the belt, I’m hoping to open up some commision work and offer this as a choice for coloration. Wish me luck! :D
#My art#first foray into soft shading#it still looks a little bulky but so far I do actually feel pretty proud! :D
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The Covenant: Gains
Poly Sons of Ipswich x Reader
Word Count: 2,802
Summary: Trying to take advantage of their gym membership, reader starts working with a devastatingly attractive personal trainer. And his friend is pretty hot, too.
The gym was still new for you but you had been coming consistently enough that you felt comfortable there. You knew what times equipment would be available and what times the crowds would be too much (week days 3-5:30 was like competing in the Hunger Games.)
Cardio always came before strength exercises because your muscles would be too fatigued otherwise.
And on Tuesdays and Saturdays they played your favorite music on the loud speakers so you didn’t have to bother with headphones on those days.
Still, you weren’t an expert by any means.
In fact, you were still hesitant to call yourself a gym-goer because you’d seen the workouts other people did and you definitely weren’t doing that. There was no strategy, you just did what you felt like doing on any given day. You were impressed by their discipline though.
Maybe, most likely, it would benefit you to incorporate some of that into your own routine.
The gym had a personal trainer program and you figured that would be the best bet—much easier than trying to figure it out on your own.
Poking around the website, you found the section that explained the process. The design was modern and intuitive, and it was easy to book an appointment: the only information you needed to provide was your name, the date/time, and what trainer you wanted.
The first two things were easy to fill out but the last had you a little stumped; you weren’t familiar enough with any of the trainers to request anyone by name even with the drop-down menu that listed out all of the choices. For a second, you were tempted to forget about the whole thing but luckily, there was an option for ‘no preference’ and anxiety levels dropped off as you selected it.
Appointment booked, you went on with the rest of your night, focus shifting to what sounded good to eat for dinner.
A week later, you found yourself in the gym’s front lobby, arms crossed and foot tapping. Since it was the first time, there was no harm in arriving early. The directions on the website had said to wait there for the trainer but so far there was no sign of them. Granted, there was still five minutes until the scheduled start so it would be unfair to start complaining about them just yet.
Rolling your neck to alleviate some of the tension, you paused mid-stretch, neck awkwardly craned like a gaggling turkey, when a man walked out. He was without a doubt the most attractive man you’d seen at the gym to date.
Thick dark hair that curled just above his ears. Warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile. Tanned skin that wrapped around arms that had just the right amount muscle: toned but not bulky. All in all, a good looking man.
You tracked him as he glanced around the area, looking for something—his eyes suddenly met yours and you straightened up in embarrassment—or someone. “Y/N?” he questioned.
You throat was so dry, it was painful to swallow. “That’s me.”
It didn’t seem possible but his smile grew even brighter. He stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Caleb and I’ll be your trainer today.”
Good karma most certainly at work here. How else could you explain being lucky enough to have the hottest guy in the gym be the trainer? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.
He gestured you forward with a wave of his hand and followed you to the main workout area. There was slight pressure to staying cool and collected with him behind you.
“I’m going to start you off with some jogging to warm-up. Do you want to use the track or hop on a treadmill?”
“Treadmill is fine. It’s what I normally use.”
You stepped up onto the belt and fiddled with the settings to establish a pace you felt comfortable with. The machine started up with a loud hum and your arms and legs began to pump. Normally, you’d have your earphones in to distract yourself with music but they weren’t that day so that you could hear Caleb if he said anything to you.
Good thinking, really, since he did indeed start chatting.
“So how long have you been a member?” he asked.
Determined not to sound steady, you took a few moments to normalize your breathing. “About two months. But this is the first time I’ve worked with a professional,” you added at the end.
It was hard to hear his laugh over the treadmill but the hitching of his shoulders gave him away. “Thanks, but I’m not really a professional. I just have a training certification is all.”
Huh. Attractive and humble. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a full-blown crush in no time.
“A certification sounds professional to me,” you insisted. There. That wasn’t flirty at all. You were merely sharing an opinion.
Jogging passed by faster than it usually did even without music. Evidently, all that was needed to make a run enjoyable was good conversation and an even better view.
You powered off the treadmill and gradually transitioned to a walk and then a full stop. A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of your face but before you could wipe it away, only to stumble after being patted on the back by Caleb.
Those muscles were not just for show.
You had mixed feelings about him giving you props for completing the warm up. On one hand, you were a little insulted because even you could handle jogging for ten minutes. On the other, it was nice to have him flatter you. And he seemed to type to mean his compliments.
“Thanks,” you said almost like a question as you plopped down to stretch.
“Really,” he insisted. There wasn’t any level of patronizing tone that you could detect. “You’d be surprised by how many people I work with that complain about running.”
“Really?” you exclaimed with surprise. “I wouldn’t say I love running but it’s not terrible. Better than swimming anyway.”
“Whoa, now. I’ll have you know that I was a big swimmer in high school.”
The friendly banter about the woes, or in his case, the highs of swimming got you through the stretches he showed you. Occasionally, there would be a pause while he corrected your posture but once you fixed your position, the banter started up again.
Finally, you conceded, “I will admit that swimming did wonders for your shoulders though.”
He looked away with a bow of his head. He smiled but it was closed lipped, no teeth on display. Oops. That comment may have been a bit too forward. Rather than draw more attention to it, you diverted attention to the actual work out.
Seeming to be of the same mind, Caleb dropped it, too, and set you up at a weight bench. He must’ve have seen the doubt on your face.
“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m not going to have you squatting 300 pounds or anything crazy. Here. Take this and we’ll start with some dumb bell rows.”
He handed you a twenty-pound weight, the smooth metal cool against your palm. The weight was noticeable but not so heavy you struggled to hold it. A month or two of this and your arms would actually tone out pretty nice.
You peered subtly at Caleb behind you. You wouldn’t be at Caleb’s level, not just after a couple weeks but then again, you doubted most people could measure up to him even after working out everyday for a year straight.
Someone people had all the good genes.
You could’ve complained but found it much more enjoyable to appreciate the good view. In fact, it was the view that got you through the rest of the season.
“Thanks,” you panted around the mouth of your water bottle. A bead of sweat ran down your neck and you reached to wipe it off.
“You did great, really,” he said, the epitome of what a good trainer should sound like. “The scariest step is always to start so signing up for additional personal training will be a piece of cake.”
“Y-yeah.” Suddenly, your shoe laces fascinated you. “So…if I want to do that—more of this...do I choose you on from that list of trainers?”
“Sure thing. Or if you’d prefer to try someone else, all of the trainers are fantastic choices.”
“I think I’ll stick with you. As long as that’s not weird or anything…”
“Nope, not weird.”
You worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Swirling irises of molten brown, you couldn’t help but be drawn into them. “Same time next week then?”
“Same time next week,” he agreed with a nod.
***
It had been a little over a month since you had started working with Caleb at the gym and what had started as one personal training session a week had turned into two, sometimes three. Improvement was happening steadily and you definitely felt a difference in your stamina.
Strangely enough, you were even proud of the small callouses that were starting to develop on the tops of your palms, under the fingers. They weren’t classically beautiful but at least you had proof of the work you were doing.
Having worked up the confidence, you’d also started doing some of the exercises Caleb showed you on your own. It was on one such day that you met him.
Another gym babe.
The first thing you noticed was his ass. Literally. He was in prime squat position and his short, though knee length and loose as they may be, could not hide his toned glutes.
You were embarrassed to admit that you were totally ogling him, like a dog looked at a prime cut of meat. You didn’t get star struck often, but damn.
The universe must have sought to punish you for the lack of propriety and your mp3 slipped through your sweaty fingers onto the moving treadmill, yanking the earphones out of your ears along with it as it flew backwards on the conveyor belt.
Recovering from the stumble your mp3 caused, you turned off the machine and gingerly picked out the music player, preparing for the worst.
Miraculously, the screen was still in tact and sounds was still coming through the earphones. You took another sigh of relief when you realized he was preoccupied by his own workout and hadn’t seen your embarrassing moment.
Something similar happened the next time you saw him a few days later: he was cooling down after having thoroughly trounced the heavy bag in the small boxing set-up the gym had. His arms looked so good in his cut-off tank (muscles and veins were all on display) that you froze with your mouth hanging wide open.
Another gym-goer did catch you that time but at least it wasn’t the god sculpted from marble.
You almost felt bad, like you were cheating on one of your crush’s with another which was ridiculous because Caleb was just a trainer and you didn’t even know the other one’s name.
Who knew that so much drama could happen in the confines of a simple neighborhood gym? Seriously, The Bachelor wished it could have as many good options as the gym seemed to.
***
You huffed as you pushed yourself up on increasing shaky arms. For a few seconds, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to do it as your arms got stuck at a forty-five degree angle. Digging deep down, you managed to fully extend your arms.
“Nine,” Caleb counted. He was kneeling besides you on the yoga mat, counting, and adjusting your form here and there, while you did push-ups
Rather than descend slowly as was proper for push-ups, you collapsed to the mat with your arms squished underneath your chest. Rolled your head, you gave him your best pleading eyes and hoped he might take mercy.
That hope was misplaced. He gave a sympathetic smile and shook his head negatively. “Sorry, Y/N. We agreed on ten and by my count, you still have one more to go.”
“Can I not and say that I did?”
“Come on now. It’s only one more.” He waved his hands around like he was waving imaginary pom-poms. “You can do it!”
You managed a weak laugh. There was no way you could’ve say no. Your arms felt like they were burning but he looked adorable trying to be a cheerleader. An unbidden image of him wearing a cute male cheerleading uniform flashed in your mind and you thought he would pull one off well, what with his wide shoulders and sculpted legs.
Imagination got you through the last push-up and you groaned as you turned over on the mat, spread out like a star fish. “That was absolute torture.”
Caleb opened his mouth but was interrupted by a newcomer.
“Geez, man. You need to take it easier on your clients.”
Recognizing the voice, you found the other gym guy you’d been eyeing standing above you.
“Pogue.” Caleb held his fist out to the man who in turned bumped his with the trainer’s. Evidently, they knew each other.
Then they embraced in a full-on hug.
Okay, so they definitely knew each other. And it was hard to miss the parting caress to Pogue’s shoulders—what kind of name was Pogue anyway?—that was generally reserved for two people that were close.
Were they related? Dating, perhaps?
Your imagination fired up again and you wondered what they would look like wrapped even more intimately with one another…which was entirely despicable, you reminded yourself. There was no proof they were romantically involved, and, even if they were, it was none of your business.
The other two, who had been talking while you were maladaptively fantasizing, had continued talking and their conversation now turned to you.
“So who’s this?” Pogue questioned politely.
“This is Y/N,” Caleb introduce you. “They’re one of the people I work with.”
Pogue stuck his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Caleb hasn’t killed you off yet.”
“Hey! I am extremely fair with workouts, aren’t I, Y/N?”
“He is,” you said with a small smile, rocking on your feet. “Besides, he way too nice to ever become a drill sergeant.”
Pogue shoved Caleb lightly and Caleb elbowed him in return. “I know he doesn’t look like the type, but he was quite the drill sergeant back when we were both swimmers. He just hides the competitive instinct under his charming smiles.”
That peaked your curiosity. “No way, you guys swam together back in the day?”
“Spencer Academy was state champs three years running in our time,” Caleb admitted. “But nowadays I do my thing with personal training and Pogue more into MMA.”
“MMA?” you questioned.
“Mixed Martial Arts,” Caleb supplied. “You’ve probably seen him hogging the punching bags in the back.”
You most certainly had but you weren’t about to confess that to either of them. It would be too embarrassing and might even toe the line of harassment.
“You are more than welcome to share bags with me, any time,” Pogue grinned teasingly.
A thought hit and flowed out of your mouth before you could stop it. “You guys should give me a lesson sometime.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you were interested in that sort of thing,” Caleb said, surprise coloring his voice.
“Are you saying that you don’t think I can?” You weren’t sure what made you say it. It’s not like you were hardcore dedicated to trying it.
Whatever the cause it had Pogue chiming in save the situation.
“What prince charming means is that we would love to give a demonstration sometime.”
Caleb down at his watch because of course he still wore one instead of just using his phone like most other people. “Damn. Our hour is up Y/n and I’m late getting my next client. But we can hit the punching bags next time, if you want…?”
“Sure. Uh. Does Wednesday work for you?”
Both of the men nodded and Caleb called over his shoulder as he jogged to the lobby. “It’s a date. Schedule it online and I’ll approve it.”
The word kept replaying over and over. Date. Date. Date, date, date. He probably didn’t even mean it like that but it didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.
Waving goodbye to Pogue wit a promise of seeing him next week, you bounced off to grab your phone from the locker room. There was nothing wrong with scheduling your next session ASAP.
It’s a date.
_______________
Pogue boxing does make a fetching image. Pogue and Caleb in the ring sparring together even more so. Debating whether to make a part 2.
Caleb always seems to be the hardest for me to write so I hope he sounded okay in this. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to finally post it.
Thanks for reading!
#the covenant#caleb danvers#pogue parry#caleb danvers x reader#pogue parry x reader#the covenant imagines
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Puppy Love
Requested by: yumirose0
Pairings: Mirio Togata x M! Reader
Word Count: 1,867
Warnings: Very fluffy, very sweet. There's basically no dialogue here, trying to get used to writing dialogue, but over all it's just tooth-rotting fluff.
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Miro forced himself not to sigh, forced himself to keep a smile going. He was stressed, he was tired, and he was lonely.
The agency had been running him ragged, so had his supplementary training, and now all he wanted to do was sleep for 3 days and see his boyfriend, (M/N).
But (M/N) was still training.
It was edging up on midnight and (M/N) was probably still at the gym, possibly only just starting his day, but by god, Mirio felt selfish admitting it but he wanted the taller male here instead of there.
(M/N)'s quirk was, easily put, Spider, or Arachnid if you wanted a technical term.
The taller male had 6 arms, 3 on each side much like the kid from 1-A, his legs counting as arms he guessed. He also had 8 eyes, two humanoid in shape a lovely color of (E/C), and 6 others that were a startling shade of red resting on his forehead above the others. He had fangs and super strength and was mostly nocturnal, but he was great.
Mirio just wished he was here now.
But that wasn't something he could control so the blond male sighed, straightened his back, and continued on his journey to (M/N)'s dorm room.
The two of them had been dating right out of middle school, 3 years now, and the two of them were used to every single odd little thing about the other. Mirio was used to the large amount of meat (M/N) would eat and the defensive biting that would happen from time to time just the same as (M/N) was used to Mirio being a bit messy with the laundry and odd work scheduling.
The two of them worked together for each other, there was no other way to do it.
When Mirio had gotten to the dorm room it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the second he stepped in it felt as if the weight had been thrown out the window.
Laying on the floor of their room, feet propped up on the bed with 6 arms thrown about the room, was one very drowsy looking (M/N).
He was dressed in just a pair of boxers, as customary clothing for bed, and he had a pair of very bulky headphones on. Whatever he was listening to was on the softer side of his normal music, full of pianos and violins, probably classical music to make him sleepy and the blond male felt a stupidly large grin spread on his face.
One of those red eyes slowly unglazed, and despite not having a pupil or anything Mirio knew it was focused on him. Smiling the blond moved about the room, putting his bag away and hanging his coat up, putting his shoes by the door, and taking his belt off along with his tie, all while (M/N) slowly pulled himself together to be sitting instead of laying on the floor.
Once done, or as done as he was going to get before (M/N) got impatient, Mirio sat on the edge of the bed, hand reaching out to thread through messy (H/C) hair. (M/N)'s headphones had been set off to the side, a soft piano playing muffled against the floor as their owner leaned into strong hands.
Mirio gently rubbed at (M/N) scalp, watching his face as it was practically the only thing he could look at with them almost being at eye level with each other.
Mirio was... proud of his height. That was basically the only way he could explain it. Mirio stood at 5'11", on the taller end of the spectrum and up until their last year in middle school had been the tallest of his little friend group of (M/N) and Tamaki.
Tamaki was still shorter than him, but (M/N) had passed him up by a significant amount, now standing at a massive 6'10". (M/N) was almost a whole foot taller than him, but he'd never been one to tease about it.
(M/N) let out a light hum, leaning into Mirio's hands before taking one in his, pressing his lips to his palm. (M/N) was a very affectionate lover, he did practically everything in his power to make Mirio happy. He bought flowers and video games and went on cheap dates and complimented Mirio so much that the other male practically had a permanent blush in his presents. Not that Mirio was complaining.
(M/N) was also very playful and energetic. On multiple accounts (M/N) had been called a puppy, very sweet, very energetic, cuddly, a bit clumsy, and a bit odd. But Mirio loved it and wouldn't change it for the world.
(M/N)'s kisses were slow and tired, just light presses of his lips but Mirio could feel the drowsy smile making it's way onto his face as he moved from the palm of his hand to his wrist, the light drag of a fang against his skin making his heart beat faster. He knew (M/N) had no control over that, didn't mean anything by it, but the taller male was a bit of a biter in the heat of the moment and it always got his heart racing.
"How was the agency?" (M/N) whispered, his voice low and rumbly, and Mirio knew it was because he was tired, but damn it was hot as hell.
Mirio smiles, running his free hand down from (M/N)'s hair to his neck, just holding him there. "It was good," he said, voice just as quiet as (M/N)'s, "busy but good." (M/N) let out a "hmm" in reply and moved from kissing Mirio's wrist to laying his head on the blonds thighs, moving to sit between his legs. He was still holding one of Mirio's hands, the other still resting on the back of (M/N) neck.
Mirio sighed, his hand tangling in (H/C) locks again. He knew that if he didn't get (M/N) off the floor he would fall asleep there, and Mirio wouldn't mind really, but it was bad for (M/N)'s back and he couldn't let him hurt himself just because he was tired.
"Come on," he said softly, moving his hands to grab at a pair of (M/N)'s arms. He was being a bit rough, jerking (M/N) and himself into a standing position but it's what he had to do. Once (M/N) fell asleep he would stay asleep. There wasn't much that could wake him up so Mirio had to get them moved to the bed now instead of later.
(M/N) groaned, something that more of a whine of discomfort than anything but complied for the most part. He stood up with Mirio, slouched over quite a bit as he leaned on the other male. The majority of his weight was being pressed onto Mirio, far too tired to hold himself up.
One set of hands were tangled in blond hair, another wrapped around Mirio's back, and the last pair were lightly gripping onto the other male's waist. His head was pressed into Mirio's hair, lightly rubbing his cheek into the blond strands, pressing sleepy kisses into his scalp when he got the energy.
It was adorable, it made Mirio blush darkly and a dopey smile spread across his face, but he had a mission and he planned to finish it.
"Come on," he said again, slowly moving them so he could press (M/N) down to sit on the mattress. (M/N) was very compliant, doing as Mirio moved him, but he didn't let go. (M/N) was a cuddler in his sleep, was pretty much all the time, but it was worse when he was sleepy.
Mirio chuckled lightly, he'd gotten (M/N) to sit on the bed, but now he was standing between his legs wrapped in 6 arms with a head of (H/C) hair pressed to his chest. It was adorable honestly, but Mirio was still dressed in his school uniform and wanted to go to bed.
"(M/N)," he said softly, moving some of (M/N)'s hair away from his eyes, "I need to change." The other male grumbled about something, his words too soft and slurred to be understandable. He huffed lightly, pressing his face harder into Mirio's chest and tightening his hold on him.
His hands moved, one pair still pressed to his hips, one pair wrapped around his lower back, but one pair moved to cradle his face, thumbs moving lightly over cheekbones. Those (E/C) eyes were closed, but Mirio knew the red ones were watching him.
It was a bit odd, and hard to get used to, but (M/N) didn't need his actual eyes open to be able to see, as the red ones were technically always open. They had a sort of second eyelid, a film like thing that was slightly transparent would cover them from time to time but he could always see out of them. Mirio didn't know how he slept at night still being able to see.
Smiling softly Mirio moved his hands to do the same, thumbs moving over (S/C) cheeks as the gently moved (M/N) head off his chest. He huffed again, not liking that he was being moved, but opened his eyes sleepily, (E/C) meeting blue.
Mirio could tell (M/N) was tired enough that the second they got in bed he would be out like a light, so to appease the other male he pressed a light kiss to the top of his head and moved to slip out of his shirt and pants.
Unfortunately, since he was in a clingy mood Mirio wouldn't be able to put on any of his sleepwear, which was normally just sweats and a shirt if he was feeling cold, but there wasn't anything he could really do about it.
The blond did his best to throw his clothes to the laundry hamper, though he missed. (M/N), who would normally lightly chide Mirio about leaving his dirty clothes on the floor, immediately pressed his face into the blond's chest, pulling him as close as possible.
Mirio laughed, pressing his hands to (M/N) chest in an attempt to get him to let go. It was futile for a moment or two but eventually, he loosed his hold, letting Mirio go long enough for him to turn the lights off and actually crawl into the bed instead of just sitting on it.
(M/N) followed closely behind, pulling Mirio to his chest and wrapping him in 6 arms.
Mirio loved it, it made him feel safe and loved. Though he'd never not felt loved by (M/N), it was a nice feeling, one of protection.
He wouldn't change it for the world.
#fluff#sweet#bnha#bnha imagines#mha#mha fluff#mha fanfiction#mirio togata#mirio x male reader#x male reader#mirio togata x male reader
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Fallen into Fantasy: Part Two (Yandere Dragon Shifter! Dabi vs. Enji Todoroki x Reader)
Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight
You had never realized that shackles could be so beautiful.
Even in the dim light of the cave, they sparkled in ways that you had never seen before, a mix of gold, silver, and countless jewels that threatened to blind you if you gazed at them for too long. And yes, only the golden chain around your ankle anchored to the stone wall was a true shackle, but the rest might as well have been, for the way that they weighed you down. Dozens upon dozens of rings, bracelets, and necklaces had been placed on you, threatening to send you crashing to the floor underneath the strain. Enji though either didn’t notice or didn’t care, adding more and more jewelry onto you with the proud, self-satisfied look of someone who was taking excellent care of their most prized possession.
That was what you were, you supposed, a valued treasure for Enji to hoard. Despite the intrigue of you being from another world, at the end of the day you were simply a human, nowhere near powerful enough for a dragon shifter like your captor to consider treating like an equal. Rather than be frustrated or disappointed with your helplessness though, Enji relished it. He loved the feeling of holding your fragile body against his, loved being able to frighten you into behaving with just a hint of his claws. But most of all, he loved knowing that you would have been doomed in this world without him.
“Enji,” you said quietly, careful to use his given name as he preferred you to, as opposed to the title of Endeavor that the world knew him as. “Don’t you think that’s enough?”
His searing blue eyes narrowing down at you, Enji frowned at your presumption that you knew better than him. Although you flinched at his expression, you were grateful that he was currently in his human form, knowing that if he had been in his dragon form, your question would have been met with a huff of flames that, while never actually reaching you, would have come far too close for comfort.
“You are my mate,” Enji reminded you with a growl. “The mate of the dragon king. And therefore, you must be dressed as such.”
“You’re going hunting though, you won’t even see me.”
“Even while I am gone, I wish to know that you are properly adorned. We haven’t physically mated yet, so my claiming scent on you is weak. By honoring you by decorating you in the treasures of my hoard, I am showing the world that you are mine. And no one will dare to touch what is mine.”
“But surely no one is going to dare to sneak into your home,” you answered, knowing even after less than a week with Enji that it was always a good idea to play to his ego.
“Of course not,” he agreed. “But if another of my kind comes to see me on urgent business, I’d rather not have them think that they can taste what belongs to me. Unless you would prefer finally mating?” He asked the question with a hungry smirk, reaching out to caress your cheek with his enormous hand, slowing gliding it down your neck all the way to your hips, where he stroked your skin in soothing circles. Your eyes wide, you shook your head in silent desperation, wondering as he leaned down towards you if this would be the time that he wouldn’t listen to you.
“Well, until later then,” he murmured in your ear, brushing his lips against the crook of your neck. You stayed frozen until he moved away, though you didn’t dare look away from him. Smirking at the way you were gazing at him, Enji slipped off his signet ring, storing it away in his usual hiding spot for his hunting excursions. He began to walk away, only to turn back to you, nearly swallowing your hand with his own and softly kissing the inside of your wrist.
With that, Enji stalked off through the cave tunnel, growing even larger, wings unfurling, and scales appearing all over him. You watched the transformation in a mixture of wonder and horror, still not used to the change even after seeing it so many times already. By the time he turned the corner, Enji was once again the crimson dragon that you had first caught a glimpse of. A second later, you heard the telltale sound, almost like rhythmic thunderclaps, of him taking to the skies to hunt for the dinner you would share tonight.
As soon as you heard him leave, you sighed, letting your head rest against the stone wall and just staring up at the ceiling. You knew by now that he would be gone for hours, leaving you all alone with nothing to distract yourself with. His previous hunts had left you so starved for diversion that you had begun counting the jewels and coins strewn all over the floor just for something to do. Even that wasn’t enough to keep you from silently rejoicing each time Enji arrived back home though, as ashamed as you were to admit it. You couldn’t really help it though, not when the dragon shifter was the only company you had. He was the only other living creature you had spoken to since stumbling your way into this world, and while you might deny it to his face, Enji was right when he reminded you how helpless you were, how much you depended on him. Even without the shackle keeping you chained to the wall that would be true, considering that the cave you had been brought to was over halfway up a mountain. With the way he had been acting today though, you weren’t sure if him rushing back home was what you wanted.
When Enji had first flew you back to his cave, you had been surprised to hear him say that he would officially mate with you only when you were ready. He certainly hadn’t been thinking about your consent when he had taken you in his talons and dragged you to his home against your will. You had said as much to him, only for Enji to patiently inform you that humans were just so delicate, so fragile, that you mate with you before you were ready would be far too dangerous. He didn’t want a broken shell of a mate, after all. But, you realized as you remembered the way he had kissed your neck and the soft skin of your wrist, Enji didn’t necessarily need your permission for him to decide that you were ready.
Your frenzied thoughts were interrupted though, as you heard the unmistakable sound of claws and scales scraping against stone. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since Enji had left, was he really back already? It didn’t take him very long to find enough food for you, but finding enough for himself was a different story, usually taking several hours. Perhaps he forgot something, or maybe he had gotten lucky. Whatever the reason, the roiling pit of emotion in your gut was mixed, one part of you glad that you weren’t alone anymore, and another part of you fearful that you would no longer be able to avoid what Enji wanted from you. But as the sound came closer, you realized that it didn’t sound quite like Enji. The footsteps, while still heavy enough to have the jewels and coins rattle across the floor, were lighter than your captor’s. And the raking of scales against the cave floor was somehow smoother than usual, less like the steady march of Enji and more like a slither. Curling up against the wall, you hoped was right when he said that being covered in items of his hoard would keep any other dragons from daring to touch you.
Any remaining hope you had that it was the devil you knew disappeared once and for all when the dragon came into view, his scorched black scales a far cry from Enji’s blood red ones. Although, you thought distantly as you watched from the corner of the vast cave, this dragon’s burning blue eyes were certainly similar. Said dragon didn’t even seem to notice you though, his eyes gazing only at the treasure filling the cave. As he slithered inside, you saw that even though he wasn’t as huge as Enji, more svelte than bulky, he was still very large. Though, honestly, considering that you had no frame of reference for what the average size of a dragon was, for all that you knew, this one could be considered extremely undersized. Despite your lack of knowledge though, you were still pretty sure that dragons didn’t usually wear massive saddlebags on their backs.
But the reason for the saddlebag’s presence became clear soon enough, when the strange dragon made his way to a particularly large pile of jewels and began shoveling dragon-sized handfuls into his bag.
“He won’t even miss this stuff,” you heard the dragon mumble to himself. “Asshole doesn’t deserve this treasure anyway.”
Seeing that this stranger was hardly a loyal subject of the dragon king who had claimed you as his mate, you sat as still as you possibly could, hoping that he would leave without ever noticing you. When the dragon gave a sudden sniff and stiffened though, you knew that it was too late. He had caught your scent.
“Well, well, well,” the dragon chuckled, turning around quickly for something so large, “what do we have here? A pretty little human that the mighty dragon king Endeavor is saving for a midnight snack, one flavored with the scent of another world?” Pinned under the dragon’s piercing blue stare, you weren’t sure if it would be better for you to correct him or to stay silent. But he didn’t give you the chance to choose, not when he noticed the all of the jewelry that you were practically drowning in, jewelry that all bore Enji’s scent.
“Oh, not a meal at all then. A new little mate for his shithead majesty. I guess I can expect you to tell him exactly what happened while he was gone then.”
“Not at all,” you answered in a sudden moment of inspiration. “Go right ahead, I won’t tell him shit.”
“Oh really? And why should I believe you?” he scoffed.
“Because I’m hardly a fan of Enji,” you said, lifting up your shackle for the dragon to see.
“So he’s picked another less than willing mate,” the dragon growled. “That seems to be a habit with him.”
“Yeah, so, anything I can do to get back at him in some way, I’ll try.”
“A human after my own heart, and such a cute one too. I’m Dabi; what’s your name, sweetheart?”
Telling him your name, you pointed over towards the shining golden throne just a few yards away. “You know,” you told him, “if you really want to piss Enji off, pull off that sapphire on the head of the throne.”
Tilting his head in contemplation, searching for any sign of a lie or a trick in your eyes, Dabi bared his pointed teeth in what you assumed was supposed to be a smile before moving towards the throne, running his dark claws over it cautiously. When he finally deemed it safe, Dabi scratched at the sapphire, only to realize that his claws were too large and unwieldy for the task. Too curious now to just give up, Dabi shook off his draconian form, growing smaller, his wings retracting, and scales vanishing until he stood before you as a human. Even in this form, his scorched scales were still present, only now as wide-reaching burn scars covering his otherwise pale skin. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, you had to admit that Dabi made a handsome man. As if he could sense your thoughts, Dabi turned back to face you for a moment, winking at you with a smirk.
Once he successfully pulled out the sapphire, Dabi stayed silent for a moment, staring at the signet ring that had fallen into his hand. You were an extraordinary human, weren’t you? Dabi wasn’t impressed easily, but your move had left him with no choice. Chuckling to himself, he turned back around, stalking towards you with his long leather jacket flowing menacingly until he was towering over you, gazing at you with amusement and something darker in his eyes.
“Now that’s ballsy,” he grinned. “You’re certainly something, aren’t you?”
“I’d hope so,” you said, trying your best to smile back confidently at him. “Seeing how I’ve helped you out, what do you think about returning the favor?”
“Depends, what could a pampered little pet possibly want from me?”
“I want you to get me out of these shackles and fly me out of Enji’s territory,” you answered.
“That’s all? You don’t want me to help you find your way home?” Dabi asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“I didn’t think you could help me with that. Can you?”
“I’m afraid not,” he sighed exaggeratedly. “I am more than happy, however, to get you out of the territory of a dragon so undeserving of you.”
With that, Dabi grasped the golden chain of your shackle, and a moment later, both his hand and the chain were wreathed in searing blue flames, melting the metal until it dripped onto the floor, freeing you from the cave wall. Nearly laughing in relief, you failed to notice the flash of greed in Dabi’s eyes as he stared you, the way he so tightly grasped your remaining chain.
“Thank you so much!” you gasped in wonder. “Do you think you could get rid of the rest of the chain and the shackle around my ankle?”
“I don’t have control that fine,” Dabi lied smoothly.
“Okay, that’s fine. I’m just glad to be able to move again.”
“I’m sure you are. Now we should get going, there’s no telling when Endeavor will be back.”
“Right,” you agreed. “You can just fly me to the forest east of here. That’s where I came into this world, so I might be able to find my way home from there.”
Rather than nod in understanding as you expected him to, Dabi simply scoffed coldly, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of your neck and pull you close, so that you were pushed up against his chest.
“Oh, but that wasn’t the deal, sweetheart. I said I’d fly you out of Endeavor’s territory, I didn’t say shit about where I’d take you instead.”
“What are you talking about? Where the hell are you going to take me?”
“You’re just far too fascinating to be wasted on Endeavor or on whatever backwater realm you came from. You need a real male to take care of you,” Dabi purred in your ear. “And I think I’m just the guy for the job.”
Before you could even attempt to run, Dabi was shifting back into his dragon form, his unwieldy claws wrapping around you tightly, leaving you without even an inch to move. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake as Enji, Dabi thought to himself, he wouldn’t leave you with even the slightest freedom, the slightest chance to escape. And so, Dabi ran out of the cave, leaping from the mountain ledge and unfurling his wings, flying away with you securely trapped in his claws.
Whimpering, you closed your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to look at the fatal drop that awaited you if Dabi suddenly changed his mind, though that couldn’t block out the sensation of the wind whipping around you.
“Take a good look, sweetheart, cause this is the last of the outside world you’re gonna see for a very long time,” Dabi roared above the wind. Before you could try to answer though, before you could even decide what kind of answer you wanted to give, another roar met your ears, one that sounded awfully familiar.
Twisting around as best you could while grasped in Dabi’s claws, you spotted a familiar crimson mass flying towards you, growing exponentially larger by the second. Your current captor saw Enji too though, and as the dragon king dove for the thief who had dared to claim his most precious treasure as his own, Dabi swerved out of the way, taking advantage of his more lithe form, and called out behind him, “Careful, now, Endeavor. Another move like that and you might just hurt my mate.”
“Give me my mate back now,” Enji thundered, “and I will let you live.”
“Oh, but what’s even the point of living if I no longer have my mate?” Dabi laughed, gripping you even tighter as he flew lower, almost skimming the treetops of the forest.
“This is your last warning!”
“You think I give a shit about your warnings?” he yelled. “I never do, and I care about them even less when I’ve got such a beautiful little treasure to carry home.”
At those words, all restraint that Enji had was broken, and he barreled into Dabi at full force. The loosening of Dabi’s claws was inevitable then, though he still roared in fury as soon as he felt you leave his grip. With the momentum pushing him and Enji away though, neither dragon was able to catch you as you fell towards the trees, your mind giving way to darkness.
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#yandere enji x reader#yandere enji#yandere x reader#yandere dabi x reader#yandere dabi#yandere x you#yandere enji todoroki#yandere endeavor#dabi x reader#enji x reader#yandere imagines#yandere oneshot#yandere request#yandere prompt#yandere love#yandere imagine#yandere bnha#yandere mha#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere my hero academia#yandere fantasy#fantasy yandere#bnha au#mha au#yandere league of villains#yandere scenario#yandere story#yandere dragon#yandere fic#yandere
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Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.
anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.
he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.
in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.
he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.
when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”
when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.
ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.
for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.
when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.
he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.
Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.
when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.
he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.
all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.
he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.
then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.
Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.
he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.
he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.
he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”
that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.
...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#bakugou katsuki#bnha meta#bakugou meta#bnha headcanons#don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol#sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that#makeste reads bnha#asks#anon asks#long post#oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited#wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops#bnha spoilers#there we go
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In my dream I was out running errands with my SO and we were on our way back to the car when a poster of Hozier outside this entertainment center type place (they sold cd's, video games, movies etc.) catchs my eye and at the same time that I looked over a group of men where heading into the store all joking around with each other and laughing. One of the men was taller than the rest and had big brown poofy hair. I immediately crossed the street calling after my SO to follow. We walked in and I wasn't that certain that I even saw what I thought I saw. Then I saw a guy sitting alone in one of the listening boths by himself, it looked like Hozier but I could tell that it wasn't actually him. My SO suggested that since we were here and they had a place to get some drinks that we just hang around for a bit. So we got a table and he ordered us drinks. I was a bit sad and he was trying to comfort me when suddenly I see *him* across the room.
He was across the room with a group of guys getting settled in to play a video game. I got up immediately and walked over to him but as soon as I was in his presence a huge wave of doubt came over me. What am I doing, why am I here, he won't remember me, who do I think I am right now? My mind races and I am frozen in place just a few feet away from him. Suddenly he turns around and sees me. He smiles and I can feel my skin again, "Hey there, don’t I know you from somewhere?" he is trying his best to recall. He gets up and walks over to where I am still frozen in place. "Oh yes, you are the one who gave me that poetry book." (from a previous dream where I gave him a copy of my poetry book: available here) I can't believe he remembers but I smile and nod. "It's quite good. You should be proud of yourself." he says. I smile more and some strange sound of absolute joy escapes my body "He read my poems!" I shriek inside my head. I immediately turn crab red. "Oh damn, I am sorry I didn't bring it with me. I didn't think you'd be here." he apologizes.
"It's okay." I smile, having I finally found words again.
"Do you have a moment?" he asks me. I am awestruck, I look back at my SO. He has been watching this whole scene play out. He smiles at me and raises his drink to say 'Cheers and good luck, I will be right here when you are done.' I smile at him. I am so grateful he exists. I turn back to Hozier and nod.
He guides me away from his friends to a more quiet corner of this bar/entertainment center. I have so many thoughts running around my head but mostly I want to find space to tell him how I feel about him. "You are a brilliant poet." He tells me. I say thanks "You are a brilliant musician." I state the obvious.
He laughs and orders us each a Guinness. He looks to me for confirmation, the smile on my face is permanent and immovable. I am flying. There is no way this is real. I am having a Guinness in a pub with Hozier!!!!
We talk about art, philosophy, music, poetry, love, our families. He is brilliant and beautiful and so very warm and kind.
One of his guy friends comes over to our table and whispers something to Andrew.
"Oh shit, I forgot about that." he awkwardly laughs. "Can she come too?" He looks over at me. His friend looks at me smiles and nods to Andrew and then leaves.
"I have a fan engagement thing I need to do out front of the store. Will you join me?"
"Um... abso-fucking-lutely I will!" the beer has taken its effect on me. I cringe at what just came out of my mouth. But instead of scolding me or pulling a weird face, he laughs out loud. His laugh is amazing. It's powerful and warm and inviting. I join him as we make our way to the front of the store pub. There is a group of people all huddled together. Cheers erupt as soon as Hozier walks through the door. I find a small corner to insert myself and observe as he works the crowd, interacting with fans and signing autographs.
He is so kind to every one of his fans. They have traveled far and wide to come to his concert this evening. He expresses a sincere gratitude to each person. I am surprised at how he is able to remain sincere through it all. As I watch him I fall even more in love with this man. My head is still reeling but in this moment time stands still. I decide that I must tell him how I feel as soon as we break free from the crowd.
"Andrew are you almost done?" I whisper the quietest whisper into his ear. A small smile forms on his face as he is still signing autographs and exchanging thank yous. He nods in response to my question but never makes eye contact with me. I retreat back to my corner and patiently wait, worried that I may have broken the spell with my impatience.
After a moment, he gets up from the signing table, thanks everyone for coming and tell them he looks forward to seeing them later on this evening at the concert "How did I not know about this concert?" I wonder to myself.
He says his final goodbyes to the crowd, finds me with his eyes standing in my corner and comes over to me. He is so tall he towers over me and if it weren't for his disarming smile it would feel more like a loom. "Shall we?" he asks me looking to head back into the pub shop. "Abso-fucking-loutely. " I smile. He chuckles and we head back into the pub shop.
I am thinking and feeling so many things but I want most of all to tell him how I feel about him but since I am not quite ready and it would feel awkward after watching him interact with fans I ask "How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Act so sincere with every single fan."
"Oh that's an easy one." He's surveying the room trying to find us another table to sit at. He finds some very large barstools that are currently unoccupied. He sizes me up and literally picks me up to sit me at one of the stools. I am shocked and a little bit amused. The nervous excitement of this whole event builds in me and I laugh out loud.
He joins in, not entirely certain of the why. Eventually we both come to a silence and he looks at me and says, "I can act sincere with every fan because it's not an act. I am genuinely grateful for every person that listens to my music. It's something special to be an artist, you understand that."
He gently puts his hand on my thigh. I blush but I am also almost about to cry. I do understand that. I know exactly what he is talking about. I look directly into his eyes and I know that now is my time. "Andrew." I am shocked to hear myself calling him this but he responds favorably. I continue. "I know we don't really know each other and all but there is something that I have wanted to tell you for quite some time." He is curious he leans in closer "I am in love with you. Everything about you, your music, your art, your face, your body, your mind. The way you view the world. The sincerity of your art. I have never in my life felt so strongly connected to someone that I never met... I honestly don't know what to do with all this emotion. I am not trying to date you. I understand that you don't feel the same way about me and I am okay with that but I just wanted to tell you that you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, heard or known in my entire life."
He looks up at me. His face is unreadable for a very long moment. He takes a sip of his drink. I am having a heart attack waiting for a response from him. Something anything, just show an emotion please, even if it's just get out of here and don't ever come back. He swallows. A smile starts to grow over his face. "Thank you, Elizabeth. I appreciate your kind words and your honesty. I would very much like us to be friends, if that's alright with you." I nod emphatically, all I have ever wanted was to be a room in his house. "I would like to give you something." his smile sharpens and his face glows with a plan I am not yet privy to.
He picks me up off the stool and sets me on the floor. I am actually grateful because I wasn't sure I would have been able to get off that stool. I am pretty sure it's illegal to have stools that high.
He takes my hand and leads me to a vendor's set up inside this pub store. "This is where I got my ring from ages ago."
He shows me the slightly bent ring on his right hand, the same one I have seen in photos. I look up to him still slightly confused. "I would like to buy you a ring. That way you will always remember me and we can always be close to each other, even when we are apart." I am shocked, Hozier wants to buy me a friendship ring? This is absurd. But he is sincere in his insistence and his boyish charm is disarming. We both look at rings together. I mention something stupid about how it can't be a wedding ring because I already have one of them. He looks at me a little confused but then pulls up a ring from the pile that is shaped like a letter L. "Here he says wrapping the ring around my finger. "L for Liz. This is the perfect ring." I look at it on my finger, it's gaudy and bulky and golden. This is not something I would ever choose for myself. But I can't stand to look in his eyes and tell him this. I am afraid it would break his heart if I did. "It's perfect." I respond.
He is so excited. He pays the shop keeper and we exchange phone numbers so we can call each other and talk. I thank him for the ring and I give him a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for spending time with me, Andrew." I feel a tear in my eye. "Of course! You are a brilliant woman. Thanks for sharing your art with me. I promise to bring it with me to my next show and share it with the audience." I blush and thank him again. We part ways. I head back to where my SO has been sitting this entire time. "Let's go home." I say. "I will tell you all about it on the way but I am tired now and I want to go home." I put my hands on either side of his face look him in his eyes for a long moment and kiss him deeply. We walk out of the pub store and I wake up, feeling lemon yellow and full of raspberries.
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Peter Parker NSFW Alphabet
Hi! Could I please please please get a cute and a NSFW alphabet with Peter? Thanks!💕
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
He’s the most tender and thoughtful of lovers. He just loves to lay in bed with you in his arms for hours, just holding you close, and caressing your back or your arms or any part of your body he can reach, really. He could spend entire days and nights like that, just laying next to your naked form, tangling his finger with yours and talking. His pillow talk is the most interesting too, he can talk about everything from quantum physics and the intricacies of how gravity bends space-time to how Brussel’s sprouts are just basically fun sized cabbages.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He’s not one for vanity and he actually kinda doesn’t like how bulky he’s gotten since that spider bite years ago. But he likes that he it made him strong. He likes being strong to protect you, and even to help you with domestic, ordinary things, like moving your couch up four flight of stairs to your dorm room. And of course, he loves being strong enough be able to carry you and hold you up with just one arm without any effort, to fuck you standing up without needing a wall for support.
His favorite body part of yours are your legs and where they lead: he loves your feet, your calves, your strong thighs, your gorgeous butt and… well, you can guess. He loves having those legs around him, either while he pounds into you, or while he carries you swinging on his webs across New York, or making out with you sitting on the kitchen counter while he stands between them. He just loves how he fits perfectly there, like that’s where he belongs.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)
He loves to mark you, he loves physical manifestations of you being his. But he hates to hurt you, and he refuses to leave lasting marks like hickeys -that, admittedly, are pretty painful because of his super strength- and bruises on purpose, that’s just out of question for him.
So, the alternative he so creatively found, is to mark you with his come. He still loves to come inside you, but pulling out just in time and paint your chest, your belly or your butt in white ribbons just drives him crazy
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He has heightened senses, and his sense of smell is no exception. He has an unconfirmed theory that he can perceive pheromones, at least on some level. Specifically, human pheromones. More specifically, yours.
He thinks that because your perfume drives him insane. Not like the bottled perfume you use when you guys go on dates, but your natural scent. It smells like home. It smells like mate.
It’s just so animalistic, so feral that he would never tell you, but sometimes, when you are away, he buries his face on your pillow or your clothes, and gets himself off like that, solely on the smell of you.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
While he is not underage, thank you very much, he is young. So he’s had some experience but not a lot.
However, he is a fast learner, and pleasuring you is a fascinating subject for him. He painstakingly catalogs and commits your reactions to memory, and quickly becomes an expert on you and what you like.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
As mentioned before, he loves having you wrapped around him, so the lotus, missionary, standing up or up against a wall, anything with a lot of skin on skin contact.
Positions like doggy style, the necklace of Venus, etc, just don’t feel close enough. He wants intimacy, he wants to look at you in the eyes when he makes you fall apart, he wants to bury himself deep into you, he wants as much of you as he can get.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
Not as much goofy as he is playful; he likes to make you smile and he likes to have fun in bed, but it’s sex, it’s not stand up comedy.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
He shaved everything off once. It was itchy and miserable and he’s NOT doing that again. Like, ever.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Peter Parker wears his heart on his sleeve. The bedroom is not exception. What he feels for you is deep, it’s fiery, it’s all consuming, and it translates into meaningful, intense sex. Even when he fucks you roughly it still is making love, because he loves you and he just can’t hide it or turn it off. Not that you would want him to, anyway.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
His sex drive is quite high, so he masturbates a couple times a day if you are not near or simply not in the mood.
K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Don’t let those big brown innocent eyes fool you, he is a kinky bastard.
In real life he respects -and actually loves- your independence, and how powerful and empowered you are. But in bed, his possessive streak is released. He loves to dominate you, call you his own, make you beg. More than once he webbed your hands to the headboard, or tied you up in beautiful, intricate kinbaku or shibari designs using his web.
He also has a huge praise kink, always telling you how beautiful you are, how good you are, how perfect for him. He calls you his Queen. And it goes both ways, because he is such a sucker for you telling him how great he is, how good he feels. It’s not exactly dirty talk, but it’s hot non the less.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
While any place he can get you alone is good enough for a hot make out session, for the actual sex he prefers the bedroom. Or anywhere in your apartment, as long as he can be sure you two are alone and not likely to get interrupted. He’s NOT into exhibitionism or public sex, he can’t stand the risk of someone walking in and accidentally see you like this. He respects you too much for that.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
You are his biggest turn on. Your body, the way you move, the helpless little moans you make when he hits that spot… yeah, he doesn’t need anything else to get him going.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He won’t ever endanger you or hurt you in anyway. He could never stand to cause you pain. So nothing like breath play, or spanking, etc. Even when he plays with ropes (or webs), he’s always making sure you are ok. Your safety is the most important thing for him.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
He is a giver, his greatest pride is to make you fall apart. Add to that the way the taste of you drives him wild and, well… He could -and have- spend hours between your legs.
He is not as much into receiving it because he’s afraid of loosing control and hurt you by pounding into your mouth too roughly (sometimes having super strength can have disadvantages), but you will convince him of indulging in it every once in a while.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
He can be both, it truly just depends on his mood at the moment.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
He is more of a fan of long marathon sex sessions, he likes to be able to take his time and have his way with you as he pleases. But you both are busy individuals and sometimes, when you have been separated by long periods of time (Like, a week. Hey, it’s a long time for him!), His aching for you get to be too much, and he’ll take you anyway he can. At those times is urgent, and passionate, and frenzied and just so hot!
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
He’s curious, definitely would try anything once, as long as it’s safe for you of course.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
There’s a reason he likes marathon sex, he has the stamina to go for hours, maybe even days. Anything shorter can appease him but won’t fully satiate his hunger for you.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
He’s extremely creative and good at using everyday objects as toys. In his talented hands, an electric toothbrush or a snake venom extractor can become the perfect tool for the most exquisite torture.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He likes to tease you to the point of it being almost unbearable, until you are a moaning, begging mess. Then and only then will he give in to you. And to his own need, because the truth is he wants you just as badly and desperately, he just has slightly better control.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Peter is a very expressive guy, and it’s no different in bed. He makes the hottest (and horniest) faces during sex, and yes, the hottest sounds too. Starting with little moans and growls at the beginning, as his pleasure increases so does his volume. He can get very loud when he comes, and you always can tell when he is close because he swears a lot.
You love it, because it makes it so easy to know when he likes something, and makes you feel so powerful, even in your more submissive roll, to know it’s you the one that’s making him feel so good, the one he wants so badly that it almost physically hurts.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
He is a great photographer, he has an aesthetic Instagram he is quite proud of. But by far his best work, at least according to him, is the huge collection of pictures he has of you.
Always analogic, he takes the time to develop the film himself, at home. And not just because of his love of old school photography, but because even if most of them are artistic close ups and compositions, some of them are just filthy and unadulterated porn. And in all of them you are very clearly naked.
And he’s a smart guy, he knows just how easily a device or system can be hacked, so there is no way he is taking any chances of exposing you like that by being dumb enough to have any image of you in digital format. No, that’s a show for his eyes only.
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
The spider bite that gave him those drool worthy biceps and lickable abs, gave him… other… mouthwatering… assets. Impressive assets.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
To misquote Dr. Banner, that’s Peter’s secret: He always wants you.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He’s highly energetic so it takes a lot to wear him out. And I mean a lot. But afterwards, he has the most restful sleep, secure in the knowledge that the most important thing in the world to him, is protected and sleeping in his arms.
#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader smut#peter parker hot#tom holland hot#tom holland imagine
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Psst. Would you write something where Alex has a really bad day at work and Forrest comes over and takes care of him? Alex protests but Forrest insists and cooks for him and runs him a bath. With some heavy flirting while he uses a loofah lol. Thanks Alyssa!!!!
(okay so it’s a LITTLE different than you asked, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed!)(also I've tried to add a read more like 7 times and it won't work I'm sorry)
Forrest❤️️: are you home love?
Alex’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the text. The night before they’d agreed that they would get someone to eat after Alex got off work, but that was before his day had gone to shit.
He woke up with his leg too swollen to fit in his prosthetic which meant he had to bring crutches to the base until it went down enough that he could put it on because “you sit behind a desk anyway, Captain”. Then it seemed to be followed by a never-ending stream of just people getting on his nerves, bringing him shit that he already had copies of, sending him memos like they were in an office building, showing off the base to new recruits like it was summer camp, and everyone in the building seemed to be walking with 50lb boots and speaking with bullhorns that distracted him from getting any work done. It was all stuff that he was used to but had chosen today to be annoying.
Alex: raincheck?
Alex: I won’t be good company tonight
Alex barely had time to put his phone away before it lit up again.
Forrest❤️️: will you be mad at me if I came over anyway?
Forrest❤️️: i’ll make you food
Forrest❤️️: tuck you in and read you a bedtime story
Forrest❤️️: I’ll perform an entire John Mulaney routine from memory (radio city bb)
Alex found himself smiling and he shook his head, typing an agreement. He’d made a promise to himself that when this whole thing with Forrest started he was going to really try to make it work. Be honest and open, let himself be vulnerable to get hurt by someone fucking normal. Or, better, not hurt at all. So far there was no pain.
Well, not connected to him. They were good. Alex by himself, on the other hand... Well, he was trying. He felt very grown-up for admitting he wasn’t in a good headspace to go out, but he felt even more grown-up for accepting company when he felt that way. It was a fine line to walk, though, he just couldn’t tip it over into being horrible towards him when he was being nice.
Forrest came barreling into his house in a suspiciously quick fashion, the fact that he was clearly already almost there when he texted Alex in the first place went unspoken. He had a cloth bag of groceries hanging from the crook of his arm, looking something out of a movie.
“No wonder you're in a shitty mood,” Forrest said, walking by him as loud as everyone else had been that day and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. Alex tried not to be affected by the noise even if it made him on edge. “You’re still in that stupid uniform.”
“It’s supposed to a prideful thing.”
“Anarchy, love,” Forrest said instead of an actual response, pushing his hair out of the way and pressing another kiss to his forehead. Alex closed his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath. “You gonna be okay while I go cook?”
“Yeah,” Alex said, looking up at him as he stayed leaning over the back of the couch to comb his hair with his fingers. It took a few seconds of him trying to find the right words, but he remembered he was trying to be adult and communicate. “If you’re cooking, um, could you maybe try to be a little quiet? I don’t wanna make you feel bad or anything, it’s just been...”
“A bad brain day,” Forrest filled in and Alex nodded. He gave him another kiss on the face. “I got you.”
Forrest kissed his temple once more and then he took off his shoes. Alex barely heard him, aside from the soft cracks that his ankles made when he walked, as he went into the kitchen.
With a heavy sigh and knowing he wanted to play his part in making himself feel better, he sat up straight and shrugged off the bulky jacket. Then he removed his belt and felt a little bit better. His heart still felt heavy though, that ever present feeling of being three seconds away from crying sitting comfortably in his stomach. He’d gotten quite used to the feeling, but, on days like this, it was palpable.
His legs were heavy, but he slowly bent over to untie his boots. Frustration overwhelmed him when it took more effort than he was willing to give and he closed his eyes tight, taking deep breaths. He just needed to get through his not-quite-a-date with Forrest and then he could go to sleep. He’d be better the next morning.
He was still bent over trying to work up the courage to take off his shoe when Forrest slid back into the room on his multi-colored socks. Alex could feel each vertebra in his spine as he sat up, trying not took look pathetic. Forrest just smiled and sat down beside him, one large low bowl in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
“It’s spaghetti with tofu instead of beef. I think it’s technically tofu bolognese, but I hate saying that word so spaghetti with tofu,” he said with a fond smile, “We can share.”
Alex rested back into his couch, staring at him with an almost sad look that he couldn’t seem to wipe away. How come no matter how much he tried to be good for him, Forrest was still way too good to him?
“Hey, stop it,” Forrest told him, leaning over to put the things in his hands on the coffee table before scooting closer, “Stop looking at me like you’re already preparing for me to leave. I’m not going anywhere, you’re just stuck with me.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Alex argued, but he knew that was a lie. He was sad and he did feel unworthy. Still, Forrest leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips that lingered until Alex felt more at ease.
“Eat, you’ll feel better,” Forrest told him against his lips, pulling away enough to grab the bowl again.
Forrest sat close and they shared. Alex could’ve cried at the careful way he made sure not to eat too loud or scrape his fork against the bottom of the bowl. It was so stupid, but those noises could make him so angry when he felt like this. It wasn’t fair to Forrest and yet he didn’t even seem to mind.
“You wanna tell me about your day?” Forrest asked once he was done. Alex took over the bowl, using the fork to pick out the chunks of tofu once he got tired of the noodles.
“Not really,” Alex sighed. He closed his eyes and breathed a steady breath as he tried to ignore any sense of guilt. But a hand pushed through his hair.
“Okay, you don’t have to,” Forrest said, “What do you need though?”
“What?” Alex asked, voice sharper than it should be. He felt like a body full of pins and needles, yet Forrest didn’t even flinch.
“What do you need? Cuddling? Sex? Me to go? A bath? Talk to me, tell me what I can do,” he urged. But the problem was Alex had never actually been asked that before, never been asked what he needed. He didn’t know. “Do you want me to go?”
“No,” Alex answered softly. Forrest nodded and leaned in for another kiss, pulling away all slow.
“I’ll run you a bath and we’ll see if that helps then we’ll know for next time,” he said, getting up and making his way down the hall towards the bathroom. Alex stared in that direction, feeling kind of dumbfounded as he tried to piece together what was going on.
With a sigh, Alex decided to just go along with it. He downed the rest of the wine glass and then dragged himself to his feet. His stump ached in his prosthetic and his other leg felt overworked and he just wanted to go the fuck to sleep, but Forrest seemed determined to try, so Alex would at least meet him halfway.
He put the bowl and the glass in the sink, filling them both with water before starting to drag himself back into the living room. Forrest came back in at the same time, giving him a warm smile.
“Let me help,” Forrest said, gesturing towards the couch. Alex eyed him and wondered if he understood that he probably wasn’t going to be able to get back up if he sat down again. “I got you, love, sit down.”
Alex did as he said. Forrest knelt in front of him and starting taking off his heavy boots, not seeming bothered at all. Guilt burned in Alex’s bloodstream and he wanted to tell him to stop doing all of this, but he stayed silent. He’d learned pretty quickly that all of this was Forrest just trying to baby him for no reason. The guilt just needed to be pushed to the side.
Forrest pulled off the sock from his foot and tucked it in his boot before standing up and holding his hands out for him. Alex reluctantly grabbed them and Forrest helped him to his feet, rewarding him with a kiss that lingered.
“C’mon,” Forrest whispered against his lips, tugging on his hands a little as he put more space between them. Alex was helpless to do anything but follow him down the hall to the bathroom.
He’d started running a bubble bath in his relatively large tub and had lit the one candle Alex had in his house to try to set the mood. Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head, trying not to feel too weird as Forrest turned to him with a proud little smile.
“Lift up your arms,” he urged, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it up and over Alex’s head. Alex leaned forward a bit after that, their foreheads meeting in the middle as Forrest’s hands went to undo the buttons of his pants. He pushed him to the floor and Alex swallowed, staring into his eyes as his thumbs hooked into his boxers and shoved them down as well.
“No shame,” Alex commented.
“With you? Never.”
It was all fine until Forrest had him sit down on his stool and got on his knees to remove his prosthetic. That was when it quickly went from endearing to embarrassing.
“Stop,” Alex said. Forrest froze and looked up to him, waiting for his direction. “I’ll do it.”
He nodded understandingly and untangled his pants and his boxers from both his feet before getting back up and letting Alex do the rest himself. Alex silently thanked him as he busied himself with checked the water instead of staring. Once the prosthetic was off and the sleeve was placed on the sink, Alex pushed himself to his foot.
“You want help?” Forrest asked innocently. Alex shot him a look that was probably a lot meaner than he intended, but Forrest just held up his hands and got out of his way. All that did was make Alex feel worse.
Still, he was trying to go along with it. He grabbed onto the bars installed by his tub and sat down on the edge before turning to put his leg in the water. After that, he braced both arms on the sides of the tub and lowered himself. Then he leaned forward to shut off the water before the bubbles go so high they’d be a choking hazard. When he looked over to Forrest, he saw him safely putting his prosthetic outside of the bathroom so it didn’t risk getting wet.
Alex sighed, shaking his head and looking down at the bubbles. He didn’t deserve someone so nice. He was far too ungrateful for all of this. He put so much thought and effort into making Alex feel better and he still wasn’t relaxed.
“Love,” Forrest called, smiling as he sat on the edge of the tub still fully clothed. Alex just stared at him and waited for whatever was supposed to happen next. Then he cupped water in his hands and poured it over Alex’s head.
“Okay,” Alex said, trying to laugh but it felt like there wasn’t enough room in his chest. Forrest entertained it anyway, cocking his head to the side. “This is embarrassing.”
“How is it embarrassing?”
“I-I know you like babying me and stuff,” Alex said, trying his best to word it without being offensive, “But it makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that you make me uncomfortable, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and it kinda reminds me of when I had to stay with my brother before I got fitted for my prosthetic and he literally treated me like I was helpless. I don’t like feeling helpless.”
“Toxic masculinity,” Forrest shot back. Alex raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “It’s okay to be taken care of sometimes. I’m not trying to make you feel less than, I’m trying to make you feel pampered.” Alex snorted and rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you were raised in a strict ass military home and no one ever, like, babied you without making you feel bad about it, but I’m not your brother. I want to baby you. I know that you’re extremely capable of taking care of yourself, but sometimes it’s okay to pass the reigns, you know?”
“And I appreciate that,” Alex said honestly, “I really do, but... It’s just too much, okay? Like I genuinely feel uncomfortable.”
Forrest stared at him for a minute and a lot of that confidence he’d been carrying since he’d walked in faded from his eyes. Instead, concern filled it’s place. It sufficiently made Alex feel even more like shit.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I’ll leave and you can–”
“Forrest,” Alex sighed, reaching for his hand, “Compromise?”
“How?”
“Get in with me,” Alex suggested, tugging on his hand a little, “Be my equal, not my caretaker.”
“That’ll make you feel better?” Forrest clarified. Alex nodded. His shirt was off before he could finish nodding.
Alex let out a soft laugh as Forrest scrambled to strip as fast as he could. He made space for him in the tub and Forrest carefully sat across from him. It took a second, but they got comfortable and both leaned back a little as their legs overlapped and intertwined.
Finally, Alex was able to relax.
“I just thought about how much you probably sweat today and I’m now just bathing in your sweat,” Forrest whispered into the quietness. Alex huffed a laugh, nudging him slightly. “Don’t worry, you’re still hot.”
After a little while of just relaxing with each other, Forrest was able to coax him to turn his back to him so he could wash his hair. Alex admittedly liked that and basked in it. He did have full intention to return the favor, but by the time Forrest was combing conditioner through his hair and pressing kisses to his shoulder, he found himself forgetting all about it and relaxing against him completely.
“See? All relaxed,” Forrest hummed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his throat.
“You tryin’ to get me to get up and leave?” Alex asked. Forrest tightened his arms around him, holding him in place.
“No,” he said, kissing him again before using the water to slowly comb the conditioner out, “No, stay right here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex promised. He didn’t say that all of his muscles felt like jelly and he really didn’t think he was capable of going anywhere, but that wasn’t important.
“Now we know how to get you to calm down next time,” Forrest said, voice still soft as he continued to kiss on him, “Baby you, but in a sexually charged way so you still feel like a man.” Alex’s lips split into a smile and he shook his head.
“You’re such an ass.”
“That’s why you like me.”
“Mm, I don’t know about that,” Alex said, shifting just enough to get his lips on some part of his skin. It landed on his chin. “I like you because you’re kind to me even when I’m being bitchy. No one’s ever really done that.”
“Yeah, well,” Forrest breathed, craning his neck until his lips hovered over Alex’s, “When you’re feeling good, it makes up for every ounce of accidental bitchiness and more.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Alex tilted his head back to meet his lips in a kiss, reaching his arm around to hold onto the back of his head. It should’ve been awkward, should’ve been an uncomfortable angle, but Alex felt more at ease than he had all day. Forrest’s palm pressed against his lower stomach, holding him close and firm.
It was strange. That was the first time Forrest’s ever really put any umph into touching him. He was always so soft and careful and Alex liked that, but that subtle touch that was a little rougher and little stronger broke open a door in his mind that he’d forgotten he’d boarded up. When exactly was the last time he’d gotten anything even a little rough? When was the last time he’d asked to be manhandled and got it?
Maybe that’s what they both needed. Forrest would be getting him to stop playing angry, masculine soldier; Alex would get that old itch scratched.
“Hey,” Alex whispered against his lips, “Wanna know what’ll really calm me down?”
“What?” Forrest asked.
And Alex told him. And Forrest happily agreed.
And Alex finally let go of that tension he’d been holding in all day.
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raw wip I started last year. tried working on it some more. it actually got really long. university fluff mostly. a dilemma where everyone is a bottom (or are they?), minho pov. very rare occasion I try to use all 5 in a story...
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Kim Kibum is now the co-president of the university's one and only pride club, actually. Kibum and Jonghyun get along quite well; similar interests and tastes from fashion to men. They do a good job of keeping the club running despite its opposition.
"Eat ass.." Minho mumbles, not in the mood at all for Kibum banter yet.
"Gladly," Kibum smiles, flicking his dyed brown and blond highlight haircut that looks like a mullet, "I actually get laid."
Minho can't stand Kibum's fox-like grin, and never has. It mocks him. "I see the westerner's '80s fashion threw up on your big head."
Kibum's full attention is drawn away from his phone. "What did you just say, alien-bug-looking-face, receding-hairline-big-ass-forehead-looking-prick!"
Minho uses his palm to brush his short fringe forward, brows furrowed, feeling that exchange was below the belt. No need to go after each other's complexes.
"Kibum says he got dicked in the military.." Jonghyun says, changing the subject back to dicks, naturally, proud of the younger man regardless of the risks involved with that sort of engagement.
Minho looks dumbfounded, shocked anyone would walk that line considering at worst a prison cell awaits. "You didn't!"
Kibum's expression, like some cheshire cat, doesn't give away if he's lying or not.
"I did," Jonghyun raises his hand, always proud of his exploits, at least the ones he tells. "The risk was worth the reward. He was a cute virgin," the man remenses. "My weakness for cute faces will be my undoing.."
Minho looks with horror at both men. His own personal crush was a superior officer with a little chub padding well built muscly arms, height making Minho feel almost short, voice a deep growl yelling at the soldiers to keep up and do better. Whenever the officer told Minho he was doing good and leading by example, Minho pushed to be even better, as if he could have certainly climbed any mountain weighed down by heavy gear or swim the ocean from Korea to China for that superior officer if it meant he could be held in those strong, bulky arms for a moment without judgment. Filthy, dirty wet dreams had visited some nights, making those early morning rises worse than just having to get up early as a non-morning person. But he had never considered pursuing relations in the military.
"You guys are crazy."
Jonghyun sounds too proudly cheeky. "You'd be surprised how many gay men are in the military at one time. Or the curious and missing a lady's touch. Way too much morning wood in those barracks."
"I was skeptical about Jonghyun sunbae's experience because he's a known liar.." Kibum side-eyes Jonghyun, "But once I was there.. well, things happened."
Minho went to an alternate reality military, clearly. Maybe his division branch had been that different after all.
"Maybe if you were a power bottom you would attract more attention and offers," Jonghyun gives advice. ".. I'll teach you, no charge."
Minho leans back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes rolled. "No thanks.." he's not interested in the structure of a power bottom or the ideal and expectations it carries. Minho's a simple, kind of vanilla, bottom into being softly dominated and doted on and eager to please a partner's desires. Maybe a little rougher now and then, with someone he is comfortable with.
"He's so plain and boring.." Kibum sighs, taking out his phone to browse. "I see why it's hard to find a partner."
Minho's face falls, not amused at all.
"He has a unique type.. it's difficult to find."
Kibum rests his chin in hand, looking bored, gaze still on his cellphone. "You mean his ideal type is basically himself but a top."
Jonghyun tries to stifle a laugh. "It is.. but I didn't want to say it."
Minho's frown depends. He's is in no mood to be mocked, so he leaves the table for the couch at the far end of the room, practically huffing, hands through his short hair he hopes grows back faster so he looks cuter and to attract potential tops.
"You made him sulk," Jonghyun scolds Kibum.
"When is he not? And why do you keep bothering him anyway, he's not into you."
"Or you.."
"Shut up. He's the worst type of bottom.."
"And you're a slutty, bossy bottom."
"Sunbae! You wanna die?!"
Kibum grows grouchy while Jonghyun smiles, looking towards the door repeatedly, as if waiting for someone still. While there are other members, attendance is infrequent and many show up once and then withdraw. There's a lot of social factors that keep the pride club on a blacklist and on the brink of shutdown.
As the club door swings open, Minho passing by it, he freezes, spooked by a familiar, and notable pretty, face.
"Oh.. that sunbae is here too?"
"Taeminnie…" Jonghyun coos, urging the new face to the club, in Minho's case due to recent absence, over to the table.
"You know Minho?" Kibum asks, suddenly very curious.
The young student closes the door behind himself, shrugging off a backpack and tucking lengthy hair behind an ear, a dangling earring suiting the young man's pretty face and slender figure. He doesn't really smile with his reply, side glancing at Minho looking at the youth dumbfounded. ".. not really. We just bumped into each other earlier."
Taemin's explanation is very simplified.
Minho had been adjusting to being back at school, and in an environment that being outed wouldn't lead right to prison, that when a new face on campus, surely a freshman, kept popping up around him and glancing at him, he had become certain the young man was a bottom on the prowl. It was a sense, an uneasy one.
When Taemin approached Minho in the hallway, after a demoralizing discussion with a professor urging Minho to keep his head in the game and study to improve his grades from before time off for conscription, a man who knows Minho's father no less, Minho had flushed with insensible panic.
Taemin had stood nearly as tall as Minho, but with a face and figure right out of a boys' love comic drawn by female artists; an impressive sight to be honest. "Excuse me, sunbae.. could I talk to you about something?"
Minho took a breath, hands on his unsightly hair that's still simply too short and probably made him look like a masculine top ready for booty action. "I'm not a pitcher! I'm a catcher, okay! I can't help you!"
Taemin had looked bewildered to say the least, as if another language had just been thrown on him.
Minho had hurried past the young man as other students filled the hallway. Minho decided he needed to go to the pride club room and see his friends, even if they don't understand him that well either. He had come to miss them a lot and they had become more of a security than he ever thought they could.
In looking back, that moment had been quite embarrassing on his part. It is too soon to run into the young man again. Some days Minho has the worst luck.
Jonghyun calls Taemin to sit beside him at the table, practically clinging to the younger man. Taemin carries a small smile, a bit bashful. He pets Jonghyun's head playfully.
"Taemin, don't trust that sunbae so easily," Kibum warns of Jonghyun.
"Why do you try to sabotage my happiness? Do you hate me, Kibum?" Jonghyun pouts, snuggling Taemin's shoulder.
"Sunbae, who could hate you?" Kibum flashes a wide, fake smile. "This club has dwindled enough in members lately. Don't scare more away."
"I'm okay…" Taemin speaks up, voice a little small.
"Taeminnie…" Jonghyun calls out, joyful and receiving more pats on the head.
"Sunbae, you're his dog."
"It's great." Jonghyun exclaims.
Taemin sinks into his seat, embarrassed where the conversation could lead. He changes the mood, "I was wanting to ask Minho sunbae something but now I forgot what it was…" he laughs. "But he's like you guys said. I was shocked he almost made a scene."
"He thought you a bottom hitting on him?" Kibum has a hardy laugh.
"I.." Taemin's voice gets smaller, like he doesn't want to make anyone feel bad, especially a senior. "I guess so.."
#wip#why doesn't behind cuts work on the app yet#all members in this fic a rare sight#this au is already over 5k surely#anyways#guess I won't tag it prop since wip#snip#fic snip
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holly : how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ? are they aware of it ? do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?
hollyhock : how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ? what’s something they strive for in life ?
hyacinth : is your muse athletic ? does it come naturally to them , or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?
hydrangea : how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ? are they prone to being misunderstood ?
iris : if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind , what would it be ?
-slowly slides this here-
ASK MEME ; 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 . ( accepting! )
‘ Intuition ‘. What a fucking complicated word. He thought he knew what it meant though. Wasn’t it like... The ability to easily understand things? In which case - NO, he absolutely didn’t have any sense of intuition. He had always been stupid, and that included an inability to understand people. Even those who he knew really well, like Grimmjow - he had a hard time understanding. It often seemed like his boyfriend could read his mind, but Nnoitra couldn’t perform any such trick in return. It was a cause of frustration for him, especially since when he TRIED to understand him, he almost always ended up assuming the wrong thing. Pretty much EVERY misunderstanding that had occurred between them had been Nnoitra’s fault. It wasn’t something he could help though. He had always been like this. Always assuming the worst about every single situation.
❝ My intuition is real bad. If I think I’m seein’ somethin’ without nobody explainin shit ‘ta me, I’m pretty sure it’s just my paranoia. ❞ There was a slight hint of humor to his voice. It lead him into a lot of shitty situations, but he head learned to live with it. It was just a part of his personality at this point. In any case, no matter HOW BAD he was at reading other people, he was still able to communicate with Grimmjow, and in the end that was the most important thing to him.
The next question had him grimace a bit, as if he was making an errr sound. He WISHED he could boast about being real ambitious. WANTING stuff out of life. Like he had a career path to follow or something grand he wanted to achieve. There wasn’t. He hadn’t had any big goals since he was a kid, and back then it had just been one of those stupid childhood dreams. Like how everyone wanted to grow up to be a firefighter or a police officer or whatever. Nnoitra had wanted to become an astronaut. Because he wanted to leave earth. He couldn’t think of anything COOLER than going to the moon. It hadn’t taken many years for him to understand that something like that was completely unrealistic, and he had stopped dreaming. For the most part, Nnoitra’s life had been about survival. Not from something physical like starvation, but from his own desire to die. It hadn’t manifested itself in real suicide attempts. It had been an inability to see the future. Not WANTING there to be a future. Crossing the road without looking. Yeah, some days it was still like that.
❝ Dunno. ❞ He finally said, not wanting to say straight out that he wasn’t ambitious. It sounded kinda pathetic, he thought. ❝ I just live my life ‘n see what happens. I wanna be strong, ‘daz ‘bout it. ❞ Yeah, that was the ONE thing he always strived for. He wanted to be strong. To BE strong and appear strong. Nnoitra couldn’t imagine living a life where he was physically frail. He could hardly even deal with falling ill, because he’d feel so disgusted by his own weak body. He didn’t think he’d want to continue living if he ever got to the point where he was fragile. He didn’t think he’d make it that far anyway. He wasn’t going to die of old age. There was no way.
Other than wanting to be strong, Nnoitra was pretty modest in his wishes. He wanted to go camping with Grimmjow this summer. He wanted to lay in the grass in the sun. He wanted to eat good food ( preferably something sweet ), and have sex every night. He wanted a NORMAL life ( at least as normal as someone as him could hope to live ) that he could live without too many worries. And, most importantly - he wanted to be together with Grimmjow. If he couldn’t be with him, then NOTHING would matter anyway.
❝ Yeah, I’m athletic. Can’t ya tell? ❞ He didn’t like having anyone ( including himself ) point out his physique, but right now it seemed a better option to do it himself, since it was the subject for the next question. Nnoitra had always been skinny. When he was a kid, he was of average height, but still skinny. When he entered puberty, he SUDDENLY grew to be really - really tall. A little over seven feet. He was still very thin. He was still all muscles though. Long and lean, his muscles packed more strength than one would expect. Because of the length of his arm for example, he could easily arm-wrestle with guys who packed muscles. Working out didn’t do anything for Nnoitra, because he didn’t have any fat he could convert to muscles, he couldn’t build muscle mass. This really bothered him, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. No matter how much he ate, he couldn’t gain weight.
When he went to high school, before he lost his eye, he had played basketball. He had actually been the captain of the basketball team, and they had done really well. He had been GOOD, but he suspected that was more or less ALL due to his height. He imagined he still would’ve played to this day, if it hadn’t been for him losing his eye. He doubted he ever could’ve gone professional though. He wasn’t bulky enough for that. He had a lot of insecurities about his body, and he just lived with that. He disliked being shirtless, and tied to avoid it as much as possible ( he even slept in a t-shirt, and whenever him and Grimmjow fucked, he’d keep it on ). He liked wearing baggy clothes because they made his frame not look so thin. Guys weren’t supposed to be this skinny. They were supposed to be muscular, like Grimmjow.
Despite everything, Nnoitra was still fairly atheltic. Not in his physique, but in SKILL. He made his living from fighting after all. He was fast and strong and agile. His height of course was a major advantage as well. Considering he couldn’t get thick and muscular, he had to have more natural talent than others to be able to keep to the level he was currently at. There really was NOBODY who was better at him when it came to fighting. Nnoitra was proud of that.
Now, with the last question, it was back to talking about COMMUNICATION. Even if he was really bad at it, Nnoitra knew that communication was important in a relationship. Maybe not AS MUCH when it came to friendships, but romantic relationships? Yeah, then it really mattered. Thankfully, Grimmjow was good at understanding him, and a lot of the times when something was bothering him, Grimmjow would either guess what it was, or manage to coax it out of him. Nnoitra thought it took a special sort of person to be ABLE to deal with him. Grimmjow was that kind of person. ❝ Mah, ya know, if people don’t understand ya, then ‘daz their problem. ❞ No, not really. Most of the time it became his goddamn problem. ❝ It’s better ‘ta just hang out with those who understand ya without ya havin’ ‘ta explain everythin’ all’a ‘da time. ❞ This he did think was true. It was a hassle if he had to constantly explain his feelings or actions. Especially his feelings, since he didn’t like talking about them.
#bannerofstarlight#[ the last one i already answered 8D ]#[ BUT YES THANK YOU! FOR THE ASK! ]#[ it helped a LOT with my wordcount!! ]#[ - prayer emoji - ]#[ and i just..... love writing about his modern verse ]#[ so many feeeeels ]#[ - for me bc i love him xD ]#[ thank you for the ask! ]#ᵈᵉˢᵖᵃᶤʳ ;; ic.#��ᵘʳᶰ 'ᵈᵃ ᶜᶤᵗʸ ;; verse.#ᵖˡᵃʸᵗᶤᵐᵉ ;; meme responses.#suicide mention //
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Okame’s Underbelly: Anticipation |1st|
(Shinso x OC)
Katsumi's POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso's POV (hecker#8339)
Summary:
Two people with a common passion meet unexpectedly during one of Shinso's lowest moments. He'd like to forget it ever happened but Katsumi has her own reasons for not letting it go. Through push and pull, they struggle to understand one another, regardless they can't keep away from each other.
Preview:
| How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eye drops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. |
(Katsumi's POV)
My head fell forward for the millionth time as I struggled to stay awake for the last five minutes of my summer remedial science lab. Why does science have to be so boring? This fucking professor always lectures for the full three hours too. How could someone possibly have this much to say about chlorophyll? All I could do was watch the clock tick by until, finally, the class was dismissed. I gathered my things as quickly as possible and headed towards my dorm building. Throwing my things onto the kitchen table, I immediately started to strip and headed towards the bathroom. The silver lining in having to come to campus in the summer for my remedial class? Getting to move in early and having the whole suite to myself. I showered quickly and put on my typical Friday night attire: some broken-in mom jeans that I embroidered and had a friend paint on paired with a comfortable faded band t-shirt I had stolen from a partner I had long forgotten the name of, tucked and held in place with some old belt I fished out of a Good Will bin a few years ago. I hummed as I put on some clear lipgloss and touched up my hair. Perfect. I made sure to set out some dinner for my fat cat who was hiding somewhere in my bedroom, likely in my sheets. For a supposed emotional support animal, I never saw much of her unless she was in the mood to cuddle, which was usually at night.
“Harley, I’m going out. I’ll be back.” I called out.
She meowed from the bed in response. I grabbed my things from the table and tossed them into my bedroom before popping my headphones in and heading out the door. I was on my way to the only place that made my summer Fridays bearable: The Squeaky Wheelhouse.
After a short while, I walked up to a dark and disheveled, yet oddly charming, building. This was my hidden gem, the highlight of my college career, a place where artists gathered to share their work and critique the world around them without fear. Friday nights were open mic nights for spoken word poetry, which I didn’t think I would like until I heard Okame perform. Their words about the plights of the world of heroism and comic book celebrities brought to life really resonated with me. Most of their pieces were critiques on how heroes navigate their jobs and how they are treated by the government, the people, and each other. I admired the way they captured the duality of appreciating heroes for what they are while also not feeling a need to bow to them as if they were gods. It felt so real to me, especially because around the same time I first heard their work, I had started my photojournalism blog on a similar topic. It was really just a love project at first. I would take pictures of heroes in the heat of battle and use them to show how human they really are. Honestly, I'm not even sure if it was me or my quirk that had the idea first. My hyperempathology quirk sometimes had a mind of its own. It was always dragging me into situations that I had no business being in. I always ended up manipulating someone's emotions to make them feel better, which had positive and negative results. On the one hand, I was glad that I could make someone feel better. On the other hand, it made me feel like shit because not only did I manipulate someone’s emotions without permission; I also absorbed the negative emotions I had alleviated. In a strange sense, the blog was my own way of alleviating myself of what I had alleviated. I had never expected it to take off either, but there I was, a month later, still taking pictures of heroes in their most desperate and vulnerable state in an effort to humanize them. I kept at it because, well, they are people after all. They aren’t gods, they have emotions, but the way the media and the government build a hero’s image doesn’t allow for much expression. It’s unfair to them; it's as if they aren't allowed to be people anymore. I had always thought I was alone in that, but apparently, I’m not. My blog has a pretty decent following now, which I am super proud of. Although I’m pretty sure that a lot of people in the hero community despise or at least dislike me for basically being renegade paparazzi.
Oh well. No one knows it’s me who runs the blog. The closest anyone has ever gotten was when someone traced my IP address back to the college campus, but Kyoto University has upwards of 22,000 students enrolled. There’s no way someone would be able to find me out as long as I don’t use my personal electronics to post. Okame had also become a popular performer at the Wheelhouse and had a sort of residency time slot on Friday nights. It was weird, but I was proud of them too. I felt like we were similar, almost connected by our mutual views and creative outlets. On top of that, they used a pseudonym and a ghost performer just like I used a pen name and hid my IP address for my work. All of the aligning characteristics made me think we would get along if we ever met, but that’ll probably never happen.
I walked into the building, waving to the Friday night staff that I had gotten to know over the summer. I took a seat on a comfortable looking armchair near the back corner of the main room that had a decent view of the small performance stage. I opened up a book that I brought with me to read until the performances started. I ordered a large mint tea and settled in, anticipating Okame’s latest insight.
(Shinso's POV)
I had bitten my lips raw at this point. There’s no way it’s actually over. We’ve broken up so many times before, and we’ve always managed to hash it out. But this time felt different. She wasn’t returning my texts with curt responses. She wasn’t posting about me subliminally on her social media to piss me off. She didn’t show up at my house with the gifts I had given her and dramatically throw them at me. No angry voicemails. No tears. No nothing. The strangest part was that her last text wished me well, even though I ended it this time around. All of it almost felt like a real goodbye. But still, there’s no way.
I had to talk to her tonight to make sure. Throughout our whole relationship, despite our arguing, we never missed a Friday at The Squeaky Wheelhouse. That was our way to ease the stress from the strife of the week prior. No matter how mad we were, we would still begrudgingly sit together and enjoy the show. By the end of the night, we would always manage to soften towards each other once again. Even if my piece of the week was bitterly aimed at her, she still respected me enough to put my voice out there and perform it for me. That’s what I loved about her. She knew attention made me squeamish and vulnerability was definitely not my favorite pastime. I shared the document that contained today's piece with her. It was an apology. She could barely squeeze those out of me normally, so she had to know I was deadly serious this time around. I tried not to envision her reaction or dwell on whether or not she would even accept my apology because it made me so anxious that I wanted to jump out of my skin.
How long have I been staring at myself in the fucking mirror? My eyes look so dead...but don’t they always. I realized the extra lifelessness wasn’t due to my overall apathy or shitty eyeliner; it was due to them being red and puffy. That’s no good. I hurriedly searched through the cabinet for my eyedrops. They were usually used for another purpose, but today, they’ll be used to disguise the fact that I had been crying. Save those tears for later, Shinso. She’s seen me cry even less than she’s heard me apologize. Numbness was the best blanket I’ve ever had. But tonight, I’ll avoid covering myself up. I need to show her that I care because I’m known to fucking suck at it. After I applied the drops, I roughly ran my fingers through my torturously messy violet mane, exhaling heavily. I tried to dress up a little this Friday. I know it’s trivial, but I want to be my best for her tonight. My outfit was made up of my typical dark colors, but I dressed it up with a black jean jacket, chelsea boots, and a few bulky rings that she gifted me but were too cumbersome to actually wear. What makes them even more annoying is that I’ve been fiddling with them all evening to distract myself, and let me tell you, it’s not working. I have another hour until I have to leave; I need a better distraction.
I plopped myself down on my bed with my laptop and clicked on my “The Underbelly'' bookmark. I always loved the irony of this blog served as an escape but also as a merciless glimpse into reality for me. My leg bounced as the page loaded—no new posts. Shit...well, it has only been a couple of days. I thoroughly looked forward to the new content because the author and I are eerily like-minded as far as hero ideology. Sometimes I felt as if I wrote a few of the entries myself. They’re the only person that I felt connected to on a philosophical level, and finally having that was comforting, to say the least. It was a bit taboo to criticize heroes so harshly because it was easy to be labeled as ungrateful. I’ve personally always felt like a great way to show appreciation is to continuously try to improve a system that everyone relies on. I guess people just don’t like to make sense. Hero work is honestly one of the few things I actually cared about, and to see people be so dismissive really pissed me off. Then again, people don’t really know I feel this way. I try not to let people get into my head too much. That’s why I created my Okame persona. I wanted to get my views out there without making it about myself at all. I felt it didn’t really hold true to the purpose of my message, with the whole not making hero’s these god-like figureheads simply for doing what’s right. That and...I hate when people look at me for more than a few seconds. My searing glare usually fixed that right quick. Quickly getting over the minor disappointment, I closed my laptop. Well, I didn’t have another alternative distraction, so I decided to say fuck it and head to the kitchen for some liquid courage.
I downed about two shots of rum. I was taking the bus there anyway, so it’s not like it mattered. I checked my watch, 30 more minutes. I wracked my brain for something to alleviate the unbearable anticipation as I blankly stared at the bottle of rum. Oh! I could pick up her favorite soju. It’s super strong, so we usually reserve it for a day where we don’t plan to do shit else but enjoy each other's company. But I feel like if we’re gonna hash all the bullshit out, we might need to be generously buzzed. Liquor store it is. I adjusted my collar before I headed out the door.
I decided on four bottles of the grapefruit soju because she really likes tart flavors. She always made fun of me for liking the sweeter sojus, but I’ll let her think she has the better taste tonight. The drinks were hidden away in a plastic bag tucked under my feet. I tried to settle in my seat towards the back as I checked my watch again for the fifteenth time. It was now 5 minutes after the starting time. Guess both the show and my girlfriend(?) are running late. My hands automatically began scratching at the already chipped polish on my nails. She’s been uncharacteristically calm during this fight; I wonder if she’ll stay that way once she sees me.
#hitoshi shinso#my hero academia#mha#mha fanfiction#bnha#boku no hero academia#fanfic#shinso#shinso x oc#Okame's Underbelly
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Best Part of Me -Chapter 65
WARNING: SMU. NSFW. ASS stuff. You’ve been warned.
Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y
She wakes to warm, soft breath on the back of her neck and a bulky, muscular arm wrapped securely around her. Some time in the very early morning hours he must have stirred; long enough to move onto his side and tightly tuck himself behind her. She’s missed this; the weight of his much heavier and stronger body pressed against her and those big, powerful arms with their scars and tattoos gracing smooth, tanned skin. The way she can feel his heartbeat against her back and each exhale of breath that tickles her shoulders and neck and flutters her hair. And his smell. It’s crisp and clean and reminds her of home; of the scent of the ocean and the fresh air that surrounds them. There’s nothing extraordinary or unique about it, but it’s HIM. It’s familiar and it’s comforting; clinging to his hair and his skin and his clothes. And it’s able to soothe her even on the roughest of days . Even when he’s away on a job and she’s in the midst of her most stressful and loneliest of moments it calms her; able to pull on one his shirts or sweater and bury her face in the fabric. Event the smallest of him able to queel the ache in her chest and those tears of panic and worry.
It’s there now. That smell. Lingering on his skin like a warm, comforting blanket. It’s been almost seven years and that scent has never changed and she never wants it to. It’s part of him. It IS him. And to her there’s no greater smell in the entire world. And he often laughs or rolls his eyes about it; amused when she continually buys that same shampoo and body wash and refuses to change the laundry soap. She doesn’t want it to be different. His smell is the one true constant, the one thing that’s always held firm and true even during his routine absences while in the game or even during their six month separation. His scent has always been around, even when he hasn’t. The thought of it one day evaporating is always too much to bear. Because if it’s gone...permanently gone...that means he is too. And there’s no thought that’s more terrifying or heartbreaking than that.
She wriggles closer to him; firmly pressing her back into his front and turning her face into the arm that is stretched out along her pillow. When they’d first met, there’d be no ink gracing the inside of his inner right bicep; just a handful of scars -some long jagged, some short and smooth- and a smattering of freckles. Now there’s two tattoos; the number of steps he’d taken on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and each of the kids’ initials and dates of birth; Addie being added only two days after she was born. She rests her cheek against his arm; relaxed and at rest, yet the muscle still hard and bulging under the skin. She hates the sight of the bruises; the damage caused by his assailant trying to pin him down by using his knees. They’re huge and fresh; deep purple and black and looking so painful. And she squeezes her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears that threaten; that powerful realization of just how close she’d come to losing such an enormous component of her life. She tries not to think about it. About how terrifying it all must have been for him. Things going so wrong, so quick. From being prepared to carry out what should have been a simple job -four people, four bullets- to fighting for his life.
He’s been there before; on that bridge in Dhaka and during those hours of surgery and the week following when he was still in grave danger and all the doctors were telling her that he would be better off if he DID die. That there was no proof he’d ever regain consciousness or even breath on his own once he was brought out of the medically induced coma and weaned off the ventilator. That if things were successful and his body was strong enough to support itself, he’d likely have long term, life altering complication; side effects from lack of oxygen to the brain when he’d coded twice on the operating table. Outside of those five days in that dirty hotel room and the hours they’d spent on the streets running for their lives, she hadn’t really known him. Yet the thought of him dying had been terrifying. It had been heartbreaking; the thought of NOT getting the chance to spend time with him and get to know him and dig through the lawyers of bravado mixed with hurt and grief and guilt. She’d wanted to know the real Tyler Rake. Not the hardened mercenary with years of baggage weighing him down and the distrust and the regret that darkened his eyes. Who he was before life had jaded him; before he’d built all those walls up around him.
But now...after seven years and having a life together and bringing five babies into the world...it’s overwhelming. Unable to stand the thought of him not being around. Not hearing his voice again or seeing his smile. Not tasting his kiss or feeling those callused hands on her body, or those strong, thick arms wrapping around her. The way his face softens when his children call him daddy and all those expressions that do far more speaking than any actual words do.
He moves against her. Lips pressing against the nape of her neck and his hand sliding down to her stomach; resting firmly. And she can’t help but smile at that simple yet loving gesture. He’s already fiercely protective when there isn’t a baby on the way; when there is, he kicks it up a notch. Several notches, in fact. But it’s more than that. More than wanting and needing to keep her and the baby safe. It’s how soft and sweet he becomes; how even his voice and his eyes change. He’s always been that way; since they’d found out about Millie all those years ago and he’d put those big, strong hands on her ever growing baby bump and get the most satisfied, proud look on his face. In awe at the thought of there being a little human in there. That he’d help create a life when he’d been so close to his ending.
She turns her face into the arm across her pillow; pressing a kiss to the inside of his bicep, followed by the crook of his elbow. Then lays her palm against his and laces their fingers together.
“You okay?” Tyler’s voice is groggy from sleep, rumbling deep in his chest.
“Mm-hm. I wonder what time it is.”
“Must be pretty early; kids aren’t up yet. Why are you even awake?”
“I woke up feeling nauseous. But it’s gone away already. Why are you up?”
“Why do you think?” A chuckle reverberates against his back as he places a kiss to her shoulder.
“You know…” Esme giggles. “...the morning you don’t wake up that way is the morning I really worry about you. You’re going to be eighty and STILL waking up like that.”
“The day I stop waking up like this is the day you’re allowed to kill me. Do you want me to put that in writing?”
“Don’t be a whiner. Besides, when you’re sixty five, I’m going to start crushing viagra and hiding it in your food.”
“I WILL put a gun in my mouth if I ever need that shit.”
She laughs. “And you wonder where Millie gets her dramatic from?” She lays her hand over top the room he has resting on her stomach, then gives a long, content sigh when she feels him nuzzle the back of her neck with the tip of his nose. “You’re so warm. I missed this. Being like this with you. Just how warm and cozy and safe you make me feel. And your arms; I definitely missed being in your arms,”
“I definitely missed you being in them, that’s for sure. I missed a lot of things.”
“Yeah, you made that VERY obvious last night. The inside of my thighs have the bite marks and hickies to prove it.”
He grins against the back of her neck. “Sorry.”
“Bullshit. You’re not sorry at all.”
“And it’s not just THAT that I missed. Although that was pretty fucking amazing. It’s everything. It’s you. It’s everything about you.”
“You know, regardless of what you say and how much you hate hearing it, you have these moments where you’re just so soft and so sweet. And I’m lucky because you’re only like that with me. I’m the only that gets to this side of you. Everyone gets the OTHER you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that you. I just prefer THIS you sometimes.”
“Only for you, baby. Only you.”
“Did you sleep okay? Once you managed to get back?”
“Those meds you gave me knocked me the fuck out.”
“Hydromorph. I asked Anil’s doctor to give you something powerful like Oxy but not Oxy itself. It’s the strongest possible without having you admitted and put on some kind of drop. Just be careful, okay? They can be really addictive and the last thing you need is another drug you can’t kick.”
“Esme, I know you worry about me, and I love you so much for that, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to be THAT guy again. You don’t have to worry about that, alright? That’s the last thing you have to worry about.”
“Listen, after seven years, you think you’d realize that despite telling me not to worry, I’m still going to worry.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about THAT.” He uses the tip of his nose to move her hair away from her neck and shoulder, then presses a series or feathery kisses to both.
“You know…” she says, as she squeezes his hand that rests on her stomach. “...there’s not going to be anything to feel for a while.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’s still a baby in there, yeah? How far along do you think?”
“Probably no farther than five or six weeks.”
“Just a little bean.”
She looks over her shoulder at him. . “Baby, you’re adorable”
He grins and places a kiss on her temple. “Shut up.”
“You are. You ARE adorable. It’s okay to be adorable, honey. You’re not less of a bad ass because of it. I know how tough you are. I know what you’re capable of. And I like that you can still be cute too. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you. One of the many things. Even in Dhaka. After we’d...you know…”
“Fuck?”
“To put it that way, yeah. Even then we’d talk and you’d tease me and say the cutest shit. That was when you'd let your guard down; when we’d lie there and talk. And you’d let me get a peek at what you were really like. What your HEART was like. Even then you were comfortable enough to be that way with me,”
“You’re the only I ever have been that way with.”
“Not even with your ex wife?”
“Not even with her.”
“Not even with your hoes in other places?”
“I didn’t have to talk much with them.”
“You’re making me feel all special and shit. That I’m the only one that’s ever made you made you feel that comfy.”
“You SHOULD feel special. Because it’s trust; even in Dhaka you managed. I don’t know it was like that, Whether it was just the way you are or you just fucked me so hard I lost all coherent thought and couldn’t function properly.”
“I must still be fucking you pretty hard because you’ve never regained coherent thought or proper function,” Esme teases.
Tyler grins, then presses a kiss to her ear. “Why are you so mean to me?”
“I know. I’m horribly mean to you. I’m a terrible wife. I have no idea why you stick around.”
“Well, you give really good head. And you let me do things to your ass, so…”
“You’re such a pig,” she laughs, then turns her face into his and pecks his lips. “I don’t know how I put up with you. But I do. For some reason.”
“I can think of a couple.”
“A couple of non sexual things?”
He frowns. “Okay, that’s harder. I’m sure there’s a few things I do that keep you around. I mean, I get shit off the high shelves for you. And I’m the one that fishes the wayward socks out of the bottom of the washer.”
“You clean the bathrooms and take the garbage out,” she says. “And you get rid of the spiders and the snakes. All the important shit, basically. And you look damn good with your shirt off. Trust me, that helps.”
“See? I’m useful.”
“Very.” She speaks between kisses to his lupus. “You’re very useful. And you’re very adept at making babies. A little too adept at it, actually.”
“Got the snip and I STILL put one in you.”
She looks over her shoulder, staring at him pointedly.
“What?”
“I know what you’re going to say next. And I’m warning you right now, Tyler James. Don’t say it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. And I can see those wheels turning in your head and I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue.”
“Baby, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” she grumbles, but pecks his lips and then turns around once more; closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his bicep as it rests beside her head.
“It’s all the proof I need that I have super sperm.”
“Goddamnit!” She huffs and he chuckles against her shoulder. “I hate you so much sometimes. I mean, not really. I just hate when you say that. It drives me fucking insane.”
“Why do you think I say? I say it because I know it bothers you.”
“You’re evil,” she declares, then promptly bursts into a fit of exhaustion induced giggles. Which in turn makes him laugh even harder. “I love you,” she says. “I really do. So much. Everything about you.”
“I love you, too. Even when you’re a raging bitch and you say you hate me.”
“I was joking. I could never hate you. Ever.”
“Not even during those six months?”
“Not even then. I didn’t hate you. Tyler. I hate what was happening to you. To US. I didn’t like you very much and I was angry with you. But I didn’t hate you. I never could. I love you way too much. Did you ever hate me?”
“No. Not even for a single second. Was I pissed? Yeah. Was I hurt? Absolutely. But I was also drunk a lot and taking a lot of meds so I wasn’t exactly thinking right, was I? Had I not been that fucked up, I wouldn’t have been angry and I wouldn’t have blamed you for kicking my ass out. I would have realized I deserve it. That I was a fucking dick.”
“I’m not just talking about that. About kicking you out. I’m talking about what almost happened AFTER I did.”
“Baby…” he presses his lips against her cheek. “...that’s a long time ago.”
“Three and a half years is NOT a long time.”
“It is. Because that was a different life. A different time. And we got past it. All of it. So it WAS a long time ago.”
“I wanted to hurt you.” her voice quivers with emotion. “How horrible is that? That I actually wanted to hurt someone that I love more than anything or anyone else in the entire fucking world? How horrible am I?”
“Stop,” he gently orders, and tightens his hold on both her hands. “Just stop. It was a bad fucking time. I was messed up and I did shitty things and I said shitty things. I hurt you first. I’m definitely not innocent and it was definitely my fault things went so bad.”
“I was just so hurt and I wanted you to hurt too,” she continues. “You broke my heart, Tyler. You put them before us. Before your kids. And then the drinking and the meds and it was tearing us apart and ruining our family and you didn’t seem to give a shit. And that hurt. So I wanted you to hurt too.”
“Esme...stop…” He lifts his head from the pillows and kisses the corner of his mouth. “...I’m pretty sure this is your hormones doing this.”
“I’m sorry. That I wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, Tyler.”
“I would have deserved it.”
“No. You wouldn’t have. Not that. Definitely not THAT.”
“Well, It didn’t happen. So…”
“But it would have. If I didn’t smarten the fuck up right BEFORE it did.”
“But it didn’t. And you know what? Even if it did? We would have gotten past that too. So don’t do this, okay? None of that matters anymore. You’re working yourself up for nothing. I know you always go a little crazy when you’re pregnant, but..”
“I love you. So much. And I hate myself for almost doing that to you.”
“Well you didn't. And if you had, you had your reasons. Pretty damn good ones. But it’s all behind us and none of that shit matters anymore. And I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever someone. So please…” he presses a kiss to her temple. “...calm down, yeah? The baby needs you calm. Remember what the doctor said every other time ? About being calm and avoiding stress?”
“I’m married to a mercenary. How am I supposed to avoid stress?”
“The doctor doesn’t exactly know what I do for a living,” Tyler reminds her.
“He thinks you’re ex-military. Which isn’t exactly a life. You ARE. But I can’t tell him you’re a mercenary. You know how fast child protective services will be on our doorstep? And they won’t care what you’re like when you’re at home or happy the kids are. They’ll take them just based on your job alone.”
“I think you’re getting worked up over shit that you don’t need to worry about. So do me a favor and calm the fuck down. The shit your brain comes up with, I swear. I don’t know where it comes up with it or how, but fuck…”
“It’s definitely hormones.”
“You think? Shit.”
“Only time I was THIS hormonal this early was with the twins.”
“Jesus Christ,” he scowls. “Don’t say that. Please don’t.”
“What’s the chances, do you think? On another set? Two sets of twins in one family?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to think about it. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of one. Don’t put the ‘t word’ out into the universe.”
She laughs at that. “You’ve been talking to Andy too much. That’s his thing. About how if you put something out into the universe, it actually happens.”
“He’s a good shit. Good guy to talk to.”
“I like that you have a friend. A NORMAL friend.”
“As opposed to…”
“Homicidal mercenaries. Andy’s about as far from that as it gets. I just like the idea of having a friend period. Someone that you can hang out with and talk to.”
“I hang out with you,” Tyler points out. “I talk to you.”
“I’m your wife.”
“You’re also my best friend.”
“Someone OTHER than me. You need that. A buddy. Someone can bitch about me with.”
“I bitch about you to your face. I don’t need a friend to bitch about you, trust me.”
She snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker. So romantic,”
“I saw the talking for dirtier times.”
Esme laughs. “Yes. You do. That’s when you do your BEST talking.”
“Yep,” he agrees. “And speaking of dirtier times…” the hand that was on her stomach slides up the front of his t-shirt and down the front of her sleep shorts.
She sighs dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”
“No. I’m horny.”
“So am I,” she admits.
“Yeah? Want me to do something about it?”
“I do, actually.” She rolls over onto her side to face him. “I DO want you to do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“Oh you know…” she reaches up and pushes his hair off his forehead. “...I want you to be all bossy and aggressive and just pin me down and fuck me senseless.”
He grins broadly. “That’s the spirit.”
“I don’t know your body will let you though. You’re pretty hurting.”
“How about you let my body decide for itself and prove you wrong.”
“It has before. Many times. So what do you say?” She kisses his lips; drawing his bottom one between her teeth just as she tightly grips his cock through his boxer briefs. “Think you’re up to it?”
“I’m almost FULLY up to it.”
“Maybe YOU need some help.” Her fingertips graze against the skin just above the waistband of his shorts, then slide down the front of them, A satisfied, almost proud smirk playing on her lips when the simple brush of her palm causing his eyes to darken and a groan to rumble on his throat; hips jerking against her. “Very impressive, Tyler,” she says, and then grasps his hardening cock and swipes the pad of her thumb over the tip. “...I think you should put that to good use.”
“Oh I will. But I wanna do something first.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
He grins, then roughly shoves her onto her back.
“I love when you get all aggressive and shit,” Esme declares, lifting her hips off the bed when he yanks her shorts down, enabling him to easily slide them over her ass. “It’s my favorite you. My favorite ‘sex you’ anyway.”
“Yeah, I found that out early. That first time in Dhaka. Didn’t take long to discover that.”
“You liked it. You liked that I let you be in charge and manhandle me.”
“I still do. So do me a favor. Don’t talk. Just lie there and let me eat you out.”
She grins. “You’re bossy.”
“I just know what I want.”
He shoves her legs open; hand tightly gripping the backs of her thighs. Wasting no time as his mouth latches onto her pussy; pulling her clit between his lips and roughly suckling before pushing his tongue deep inside. Hands kneading and squeezing her thighs and then her ass as his tongue moves inside of her. Aggressively fucking her with with it until she’s squirming beneath him and lewd, pleasured noises spill from her mouth and her own hands slide up the front of her shirt. It’s a beautiful sight; eyes fixated on her as her hands firmly cup and massage her breasts and her fingers toy with her nipples; twisting and pulling and plucking at them. Her own eyes closed and her cheeks flushed and her entire body drawn impossibly tight. Crying out when his tongue slips from inside of her and concentrates on her clit; long, slow laps and then intricate circles made with the tip. His pace methodical and patient and nothing short of torture.
“More…” she pleads, as one hand reaches down to grasp at his hair and her hips lift from the bed; pressing her dripping pussy against his mouth. “...I need more.”
The movements of his mouth become. He’d long ago learned exactly what she likes, wants, and needs. Just how to move his tongue and how firmly to press it against the most sensitive spots; just how hard he can suck and how rough his teeth can bite down. It’s a turn on; her taste, her smell, the shuddering of her body and the sounds she’s making and the way she brings her hips up and fucks herself against his face. And his hands abandon her thighs; one moving between her legs as two fingers delve into her as far as they can do; turning his palm upwards so the tips of those digits can find and manipulate her g-spot. Never halting the movements of his lips and tongue; devouring her as if he’s a man condemned and he’s been given his very last meal. The fingers of his other hand push their way past her ass cheeks; the tips brushing against that tight, puckered hole.
“Don’t stop…” she begs. “...don’t stop...please...Tyler...don’t stop…”
Both his fingers and mouth become rougher. Greedy. And when he feels her lock up in places he never thought someone could lock up, he presses against the spot deep inside of her just as two fingers push their way into their ass; all the way to the third knuckle. That’s when her orgasm hits; entire body tensing and one hand still pulling at her nipples while a forearm covers her mouth in order to muffle that scream that erupts from it. Yet he doesn’t stop; continuing the licking and the sucking and the fingering -of both holes- until she comes again; even more powerful than the first.
He gives her little time to recuperate; hands on her hips and fingers digging into the flesh as he flips her over onto her stomach. A palm coming to rest on the small of her back when she attempts to push herself up onto her knees.
“Down,” he orders. “On your stomach.”
He uses his thighs to push hers open; knees holding them exactly where he wants them. Reaching around to grasp her lightly be the throat; a wrapping around his cock as he briefly rubs the engorged, weeping tip against her pussy before pushing into her ass instead.
“Fuck!” She cries out. “Tyler...fuck…”
“Is that ‘keep going’ or a ‘stop’?” He inquires. “Tell me what you want. You want me to stop?”
She shakes her head. “No...it’s okay...I think. It just hurts.”
“I can’t stop. I’m not going to force anything on you. You know that.”
“No. It’s okay. I’m fine. Just be careful. Please.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”
She nods.
“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not okay with this…”
“I’m okay,” she assures her. “I’m just...you’re...well you’re just really big.”
He grins. “Thanks.”
She manages a laugh. “And it’s uncomfortable but I don’t want you to stop at the same time. I’m not making any sense right now, I know. I just...I don’t know...don’t break me in half or anything like that.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “I’m not THAT good.”
“Yeah, you are, actually. Fuck…” her eyes squeeze shut when he pulls out completely. “...why’d you do that? I said I was fine.”
“I know. Just try and relax some more. It’s only going to hurt more than it should if you don’t relax.” He reaches between her legs to gather up some of that warm, slick fluid and then uses it to lubricate his cock. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe and just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll be gentle, okay?”
“Okay,” she nods, then buries her face in the sheets below when he presses into her once again; slower than before, giving her ample chance to adjust to him. A hand still wrapped around her throat; sweat beading across his brow and dripping down his temples. A low, feral growl escaping him when he buries himself completely.
“You alright?” He leans down to press kisses along her spine. “You good?”
“I’m okay,” she confirms. “It just feels...I don’t know...weird. I guess. In a good way.”
“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you. You trust me?”
“I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I didn’t.”
“I’m not gonna last long. You’re so right and you feel so fucking good.”
“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. I just...shit…” she whimpers when he pulls back slightly, then slowly sinks back in. “...fuck...Tyler...that feels so good….so fucking good.”
“You are so beautiful,” With one hand still on her throat, the other gathers up her hair and moves it away from her neck; lips travelling slowly along her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful and so fucking amazing and I love you so much.”
“Fuck me,” she pleads. “I need you to fuck me. Like this. Please. Just fuck me.”
He gives her what she wants. Dedicating himself to slow and deep thrusts that have her crying out into the mattress and her hands tightly fisting the sheets. Until she’s begging him for more; wanting it harder and faster. Her pleas not stopping until he’s quickened and deepened his pace and his balls are slapping against her ass and she’s reaching between her legs to rub frantically at her clit.
Suddenly -without any warning- he’s thinking about it. That moment three and a half years ago when another man could have experienced this. When another man could have had his hands and his mouth on her. Could have been buried deep inside of her and fucking her into the mattress. He’s unable to stifle the rage that takes hold; that has his hand tightening around her throat as his movements become harder and faster. Punishing. Spurred on by the noises of pleasure she’s making and the way her hips move against his and match every thrust. Until she’s cumming for the third time that morning; screaming his name and shoving her ass back at him. And he pulls out of her when he reaches his own release; powerful enough to shake his entire body, painting the small of her ass and the small of her back with hot streams of cum.
Neither of them speak. The hand around her throat relaxing and his eyes closing; chin to his chest and his heart pounding.
He hates himself already.
****
They both doze; wrapped in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And when he wakes once more, he’s on his side with her head tucked under his chin and her lips pressed against his throat, warm breath tickling his skin. And he runs a gentle palm over her head, combing his hand through her hair and letting the fine, silky, dark tresses slip between his fingers.
She yawns; her legs stretching out and her toes curling as her bare feet peek out from the bottom of the blanket. Pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple and then the underside of his chin before pulling back to look up at him; those eyes dark and loving and a soft, content smile curving her lips.
“Hey,” she greets, and he kisses the end of her nose.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
He nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re lying on your bad shoulder.”
“It’s fine. For now.”
“You’re so stubborn.” she sighs, then places her hands on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet, body pressing against his.
She feels so fucking good; breasts flattened against his chest, every curve of her body so smooth and supple, skin impossibly soft. The tip of her tongue grazing against the end of his just before she pulls away; his eyes never leaving her face; searching every of it as his fingers move through her hair.
“You okay?” he asks.
Esme nods. “A little sore,” she admits.
“Want me to get YOU some pain meds?”
She smirks. “I will punch you in the throat and not feel the least bit sorry for it.”
“You’re the one who said I was big.”
“Like you don’t know you are? Like you aren’t proud of it? How many times do you see your dick every day? You know you’re blessed. Don’t even try and deny it. It’s okay to be a bit cocky.”
“That’s a very interesting choice of words considering the subject. Cocky.”
“You are such a fucking ass sometimes!”
“Wow, you’re on a roll today. Fucking ass? Considering you just let me…”
“I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep,” she declares, and shoves him over onto his back. “And I’m fine,” she says, as she settles down on her stomach beside him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You were very gentle. And sweet. At first. I don’t know what happened at the end there. You went a little...I don’t know...off the reservation.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
“I would have told you if it was THAT bad. I would have made you stop. It just surprised me. That you got like that. It wasn’t a horrible thing. It was just...unexpected.”
“I’m sorry,” he pushes his fingers into her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay. It just took me by surprise, that’s all. You just went from one extreme to the other. Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, baby. You didn’t. It was just my brain. Going somewhere it shouldn’t have. You know how it does that sometimes.”
She nods, and runs her knuckles along his jaw.
“Want me to trim it?”
“I like it like this. When it gets really full and thick and it looks so dark. It’s very sexy. The hair though…”
“It’s exactly the way you like it. Top’s all grown in. Just gotta shave the back and the sides. I’ll be nice and let you do that for me.”
“It’s like Christmas! I get the full beard AND the old haircut? Not to mention three orgasms in one morning? You spoil me.”
“I try to. I try to be a good husband.”
“And you do a very good job. You’re a damn good husband. I think I’ll keep you.” She slides further up the bed; draping her arm along his collarbone and resting her forehead against the side of his head.
“Thank you, by the way.” He places a kiss on her forehead and then wraps an around her, hand settling on the small of her back. “That's a really nice early anniversary present. I was not expecting you to go along with that.”
“I guess I was in a mood.”
“I guess so.”
“And it wasn’t an early gift. It was a ‘just because’ gift. You still have our anniversary to look forward to.”
“Twice? In one year?”
She nods.
“You are way too good to me.”
“Someone has to be,” she reasons, and nuzzles her nose against his ear. “Do you think we should tell anyone? About the baby?”
“Depends. Do you want to tell people?”
“I think we should wait. Until the second trimester. Because the last time something went wrong, we told people right after we found out I was pregnant. And that didn’t turn out so well, so…”
“Whatever you want, baby. We wanna wait, we wait. You wanna tell people, we tell people. I’m good with whatever.”
“You realize I’m not letting you leave this house now right? That you HAVE to stay? That I need you to stay?”
“I wasn’t going to leave anyway. I already made up my mind last night. When we talked about it. It made more sense; what you said. It is better...for all of us...if I stay here. I have more control here; I can keep an eye on you and the kids. And now? I especially need to keep an eye on you now.”
“I really love that you go all ‘protective daddy to be mode’, but you’re going to have to rein it in a bit if we’re not telling people. But thank you; for agreeing to stay here. I don’t want you out there. On the street. I didn’t want you out there to begin with. I especially don’t want it now that Mahajan has stepped things up. Every gun in Mumbai is pointed at you, Tyler. And being out there would be a disaster. So thank you, for staying here. Because in a way, I get to keep MY eye on YOU. You’re not the only one worries about the person you love, you know.”
He smiles and kisses her. “I know.”
“What do you want this time?” She asks. “A boy or a girl?”
“I just want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because that’s all that really matters to me. Although, I have to admit, I DID want a boy the second time.”
“And you ended up with two.”
“Yeah,” he grins. “I did. And they’re pretty fucking awesome.”
“Well their dad’s pretty fucking awesome, so…” she pecks his lips. “...I think I want another girl.”
“Well the hell would you wish that on me?”
“What are you talking about? You’re an amazing girl dad.”
“Doesn’t mean I want another. Girls are way worse than boys. The boys have been easy compared to Millie.”
“I won’t deny that. But, there is already way too much testosterone in our house. I mean, you alone have enough for the entire New South Wales area. Do we really have to add another one to the mix?”
“Maybe it will be two. One of each.”
“Now it’s my turn to tell you to shut up.”
He gives a small chuckle, then presses a kiss to her brow before she settles her head against his shoulder. “I need to ask you something. And I don’t want you flipping your shit on me. It’s just something I want to know. That I NEED to know.”
Her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck. “Okay…”
“I want to know who it is.”
“Who who was?”
“The guy. When we split up. I wanna know who it was.”
She raises her head to look at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Why are we talking about this? When I brought it up, you were the one who said it didn’t matter. That was years ago and we put it all behind us. Those were your exact words . So why are you even bringing it up again?”
“I want to know who it was.”
“Why? Why do you want to know?”
“You don’t think I should know who my wife almost fucked?”
“Almost. That’s the key word. Almost. It never happened. So why the hell does it matter who it was? Nothing happened. Or are you suggesting that it did and I’m lying about it. Is that what you’re doing? You think something DID happen. You think I cheated on you.”
“No. I don’t think that. I know you didn’t.”
“I told you when we got back together. About that night. I was honest with you. I told you exactly what happened and what went down. And you were okay with it. You said you believed me.”
“I do believe you.”
“Then what the fuck? You’re bringing this up now? After you told me NOT to talk about it. Have you been thinking about it all this time? Since I brought it up? Were you thinking about when we were…” her eyes narrow. “...oh my god. You were. You WERE thinking about it then. That’s why you got the way you did. You let it into your head and it pissed you off and you wanted to punish me, didn’t you. That’s why you got as rough as you did. It was to punish me.”
“That wasn’t…”
“Bullshit. It was. You don’t think that after seven years, that I don't know how you work? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. I know what you get like; when you get pissed off and you need to take it on someone. And that someone is usually me. You were punishing me. Because you didn’t like thinking about me with someone else.”
“You blame me?”
“Yeah, I do. Because you never let shit go. It’s totally okay that I have to think about your past and all the women you fucked. Including Nik, who, I might add, you asked to come here and keep an eye on me and your kids despite all the damage she caused. Despite the fact she has spent six and a half years trying to wreck our marriage and break our family apart and fuck you every chance she could. Yet she’s still here, isn’t it. You put her right in my fucking face. You didn’t think that would bother me? You think I’d just get over everything she did? It was her fucking fault I even lost that baby. And yet here she is. And here you are acting like I’m supposed to just get over and kiss her ass.”
“Okay, calm down. Just…”
“Don’t you tell me to calm down. I told you about that guy. As soon as I let you back in the house and we agreed to work on things. I told you about him and you were fine with it. You said you believed me.”
“I do. I do believe you. I don’t think anything happened. Well, nothing more than what DID happen.”
“Then what does it matter? Who the fuck cares who it was?”
“I fucking care!” He snaps. “I fucking care who it was!”
“Why? Give me one good reason why it matters to you? So you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life?”
“I would never...ever...do that.”
“You’re doing it right now! That’s exactly what you’re doing! I didn’t do anything wrong. We were split up. You fucked things up, remember? You put the job and the booze and the drugs before your family and I wasn’t putting up with that shit and I kicked your ass out. And what did you do? Instead of fighting to get your family back? You just drank more and took more meds and fucking wallowed in your self pity and your own self hate while I was raising your fucking kids!”
“Settle down, okay?” He takes her face in his hand. “Please. Just settle down. I need you to settle down.”
“You could have come home. You could have decided we were worth more to you. But you didn’t. You got worse and worse and started taking the worst possible jobs you could. The more dangerous, the better, right Tyler? That was what you were thinking. Instead of getting over your shit and getting your family back, you became the guy you were before we met.”
“That’s not true. That’s not what was I doing. That’s not what…”
“That’s exactly what you were doing!” She shoves his hands away. “Where were you? You could have fought for us. You could have fought for me. And you didn’t.”
“What did you want me to do?”
“I wanted you to love me enough to fight for me! I wanted you love me enough to say ‘fuck the job, fuck the booze, fuck the meds’ and come home and make things right. And you didn’t. You just got worse. What did you want me to do? Come begging on my hands and knees? Is that what you wanted?”
“No, baby. That’s not what I wanted.”
“You put me in the worst possible fucking situation. I was raising three kids on my own. I was the one they cried to when you were too drunk to show up to visit them. You put that all on me. And you have the nerve to ask me who some guy was that I could have fucked and didn’t? Fuck you, Tyler. I don’t owe a name. Or a face. I owe you shit.”
“Please…” both hands tightly grip the back of her head and he rests his forehead against her. “...just calm down, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. Cause this. That’s not what I was trying to do. Just calm down. For the baby.”
“Nothing happened. Between me and that guy.”
“I know.”
“Do you know? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you believe me?”
He pulls back to look at her. “I believe you, Esme. I’ve always believed you.”
“If I tell you what happened, you have to promise me you’ll let it go. That you’ll put it behind us. Promise me, Tyler. That if I tell you…”
“DID you fuck him?”
“No. But there’s more to it than you think. That I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d snap and I knew you’d hunt him down and beat the shit out of him and quite possibly kill him and I didn’t want you doing that.”
“Esme...what the fuck...?”
“It wasn’t anyone you know. It was someone from the daycare Millie and the twins were in.”
“A worker? There was like one guy that worked and I’m pretty sure he was gay because you used to come onto me all the time. Unless it was one of the girls and…”
“It was a dad. From the daycare. A single dad.”
“Which one?”
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t know him. He was a cop. That’s all I’m going to tell you about him. You don’t need to know his name or what he looked like or anything like that. I just need you to listen. I need to tell you the whole truth. Can you do that? Just listen?”
He nods.
“He asked me out and I said yes. Because I was pissed off and I was lonely and I wanted…I don’t know...I guess I wanted someone to want me. To look at me and tell me I was beautiful and desirable and all that shit. That’s what I wanted. Attention. What woman doesn't? And I wanted it from you and I wasn’t going to get it because of how fucked up things were. So he asked me out and I went. Because I needed that. I wanted someone to want me.”
“I wanted you. I wanted my wife.”
“And when you didn’t fight for me, that just pissed me off more and it made me want all that attention even more. So I went out on a date. And that’s all it was supposed to be. But I was drinking and he was drinking and everything coming out of his mouth sounded so good and I was falling for it and believing him and…”
“Jesus fuck, Esme.”
“...and I was going to go through with it. I was. Or I thought I was.”
“Where? In our bed?”
“What? No. I could never do that, Tyler. Ever. No. It wasn’t at the house. It was at his place.”
“You went to his place?”
“Like I said, I was drinking and I was enjoying the attention and believing all the shit he was saying and…” she pauses, taking in a gulp of breath. “...and I was going to do it and I changed my mind. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was in love with my husband and he was the only man I wanted and I was hoping things would work out. And he didn’t like hearing that. I mean, he REALLY didn’t like hearing that. And he got pissed and started freaking out and trying to do things to me…”
“Esme...please tell me he didn’t…”
“He didn’t. I punched him in the face. And kicked him in the nuts. Then I left. The next time I saw you...when you got back from Panama... I had that bruise on my face…”
“The one you told me you got when Millie accidentally kicked you.”
“That’s the worst he did. But I didn’t want you to know the truth because I thought you’d hate me. I already thought you hated me. And I was still in love with you and I was still hopeful that you’d get your shit together and come home. That’s why I lied to you; about the bruise. And about why I took the kids out of the daycare. I said it was because of staff cuts and money issues and that’s not what it was. It was so I didn’t have to see that guy ever again.”
“Baby…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her face down into his shoulder. “...it’s okay…”
“I’m sorry. That I lied to you. I wanted to tell you everything. But I didn’t want you to hate me. I was worried if I told you, you’d never come home and I wanted you to come so bad. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I would never have hated you.”
Her hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. “I wanted you to fight for me and you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I was a mess. I was a fucking mess and I was weak and I didn’t know what to do.”
“When you did come home and we started working on things I didn’t tell you the whole story because I knew how mad you’d get it and I knew you’d find out who it was and that you’d track him down and you’d beat the shit out him.”
“I would have done more than beat the shit out of him.”
“And that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to forget about it. And I knew you wouldn’t let it go. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t want you to leave.”
“Why would I leave? I was home. That’s where I wanted to be. With you. With my kids.”
“I thought you wouldn't believe me. I thought for sure you’d think I DID sleep with that guy and then you’d hate me and leave me and never come back. I’m sorry, Tyler. That I ever even went anywhere with that guy. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I just didn’t want to lose you.”
“It’s alright, baby. It’s alright. I never would have hated you and I never would have left. I would have believed you. Just like I believe you now. It’s okay…” he cradles her face in his hands, lips pressed against her forehead. “...you’re okay.”
“Are we okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I thought you’d be angry. At me.”
“I have no reason to be angry. And I’m sorry. That I was such a fuck up back then. I wanted to come home. I did. But I was a mess and you didn’t deserve that and neither did the kids. And yeah; maybe I did take jobs hoping they’d kill me. I already thought I’d lost everything. I didn’t think it mattered if someone put a bullet in me.”
“It would have mattered to me. And your kids. I just wanted to get your shit together and come home. And it never seemed to matter to you how much I begged and pleaded with you. It never got through. And I wish none of this ever happened. I’m sorry. That things got THAT bad.”
“I’m the one that’s sorry. It was my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.”
“Can you put it behind us now? Now that you know the whole truth? Can we let it go? Can YOU let it go?
He nods.
“I love you. So fucking much. You have no idea. You really don’t.”
“I love you, baby..,” he uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that glisten under her eyes and on her cheeks. “...I always have. I always will.”
She kneels in front of him and wraps both arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she possibly can.
“It’s alright." He runs his hands up and down her back and kisses the side of her neck. “Everything’s alright now.”
“No. It’s not. My ass is still sore.”
He can’t help but laugh at that.
“And you wonder why I only give in once a year.”
“I’m sorry that my dick is THAT big.”
“Ninety nine percent of the time, I think it’s a blessing. This is the one percent of the time it’s not. I’m going to take a bath. Are you okay with the kids? Your body can hang in there? You’re not in too much pain?”
“I’m okay. I’ve been in worse pain. You’ve seen me a lot worse off.”
“Yeah, I have. And I don’t want to see it again. Promise me you’ll stay here. With us. Because we need you here. I NEED you here.”
“I promise,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”
#Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake fan fiction#Tyler Rake fan fic#Extraction#Extraction 2020#Chris Hemsworth character#best part of me
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AU Yeah August 14/31--Rival AU
@april-the-fan-girl suggested M’Baku/Tony/T’Challa! Nyehehe the universe aligned for this pairing to match up with the calendar >:3c Watch out for the cut!
--
Tony Stark arrived in Wakanda to exactly zero fanfare. He looked delighted by it.
“Is he wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” Shuri whispered.
“Is he wearing socks with sandals?” Okoye whispered back.
Ramonda was quiet for several minutes before turning her gaze on her son. “And this was the man you wanted me to meet?”
“He doesn’t normally look like this,” T’Challa said desperately.
“King T’Challa!” Tony crowed as he approached. “Thanks for the invitation!”
T’Challa reached out to take his hand and shake it immediately. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m glad you are… so comfortable here.”
Tony paused, looking confused. “You… said to dress comfortably.”
“I did,” T’Challa agreed. “I’m glad you listened to me, but I fear your socks may get warm.”
“Oh!” Tony said, cheerful again. “I’m trying out a new fabric I designed! It’s supposed to wick really quickly and keep feet cool,” he added, lifting his foot and examining it. “And I figured, where better to test it than in the heat of Wakanda? Except they’re a little too bulky for the tennis shoes I brought on the trip. So I’ll have to fix the size issue,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Maybe more linen…”
“Ah,” Ramonda said. “A scientist.”
Tony seemed to notice her all of a sudden and jerked toward her. “Do I bow? T’Challa said you don’t do that here but I’m intimidated and feel the need to bow.”
Ramonda’s lips finally curled into a smile. “Bow or don’t.”
“I’m gonna bow,” Tony decided, and did so.
“Are you going to bow to me too?” Shuri asked, amused.
Tony looked at her, looked back at Ramonda, then declared, “You’re not as intimidating as your mother yet. So I will nod at you. It’s basically a bow.”
“It’s not,” Shuri choked out, trying to sound like she was pouting but mostly sounding like she was trying not to laugh. “Tell me about your socks.”
“It’s a merino-linen-nylon blend!” Tony answered immediately, and allowed her to take his arm and begin leading him away. “I’m hoping to make a full undersuit out of this. It gets very sweaty in the armor. So far I’m pretty pleased!”
Ramonda watched them go fondly. “Not the worst man I’ve ever been introduced to,” she said, amused. She frowned a little. “Nothing like his father at all.”
T’Challa tilted his head. His father had told him stories. Tony hadn’t mentioned anything about Howard at all. Which was fine! He didn’t like the way Tony’s eyebrows went all pinched and his mouth went all awkward when Howard was mentioned, anyway.
“Hey, who’s the weirdo wearing socks and sandals?” M’Baku asked as he approached. “And why was Shuri being so nice to a colonizer?”
“He showed up wearing socks and sandals,” Ramonda replied, amused.
M’Baku hummed, agreeing. “T’Challa, I wanted to talk to you about that fever going around. We think we finally found a plant to counteract it.”
“Oh good,” T’Challa said.
M’Baku seemed to suddenly take notice of the small jet nearby. “What the―”
“It seems Mr. Stark wanted to test out his new hovering technology as well,” Ramonda said, smiling. “I better go make sure Shuri doesn’t steal his socks. He seemed very proud of them.”
“Thank you,” T’Challa replied, because honestly, Shuri might actually try to steal them. He turned back to M’Baku, who was still staring at the jet. “So―”
“Brains and that ass?” M’Baku mused. “Maybe I should meet him.”
“No,” T’Challa blurted out immediately.
M’Baku looked at him, and T’Challa recognized the glint in his eye as the one he’d had right before they’d fought for the throne. God damn it.
.-.-.-.
“Oh, hello, nice to meet you,” Tony said, taking M’Baku’s hand and pumping it up and down twice. “My suitcase might explode so I need to leave but maybe we can talk later Shuri says you’re nice and once threw her brother into a tree.”
“UP,” T’Challa called after him. “He threw me up into the tree to grab aaaaand he’s gone.”
M’Baku looked slightly put out. “If he didn’t want to talk to me, he didn’t have to make up such a silly―”
There was the sound of an explosion, and then smoke came billowing out from the open door. M’Baku jerked as if to run toward it, but T’Challa grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Wh,” M’Baku began, offended.
“Mm-mm,” T’Challa cut in, shaking his head.
They waited about three beats before Tony’s voice called out, “I’m okay! There’s absolutely nothing to see here! And also I can pay for this!”
“Inventors,” T’Challa sighed fondly. “Come on. We were going to show Shuri the plant you found so she can research the chemical composition of it and see which one was the most effective against the fever.”
“Is this normal?” M’Baku asked, bewildered.
“For geniuses? ...Yes,” T’Challa decided after some thought. He smirked at M’Baku smugly. “But if you can’t handle that―”
“I never said I couldn’t handle it,” M’Baku cut in hastily.
“Actually I might not be able to pay for this,” Tony called again.
T’Challa opened his mouth to tell him it was fine.
“I’ll pay for it!” M’Baku called back.
“First of all you don’t know what he broke and second of all I won’t let you,” T’Challa began.
Tony came out of his room a couple minutes later, slightly charred, and looking quite surprised to see them wrestling in the middle of the hall. “Is this something I should be doing?”
T’Challa and M’Baku considered this. On one hand, they hadn’t settled their argument. On the other… Tony.
“Should I challenge Shuri to wrestle?” Tony asked.
“No!” T’Challa and M’Baku barked immediately. He should definitely not to do that. Shuri might accidentally kill him.
.-.-.-.
“Haha,” Shuri said once she’d gotten Tony distracted by magnets.
T’Challa and M’Baku scowled at her. “Don’t laugh at us.”
“Haha,” she said again, unconcerned, and took the plant from M’Baku’s hands. “Haha! You’re both stupid, I don’t know why women think you’re attractive, I’m telling Mother all about this. Did I cover everything?”
“Why don’t you just take a video,” M’Baku mumbled, rolling his eyes.
T’Challa sighed. “She is recording all of the time. I never get away with anything.”
“...All the time?” M’Baku asked.
“Yes, I have video of you being launched across a field by a rhino, and I’m compiling videos of both of you being idiots to show to Tony,” Shuri replied, turning away from them. “Get out of my lab! Tony, I’m going to test this plant for―”
“Oh, I used to juice this when I was dying from heavy metal poisoning,” Tony said guilelessly. “Really extended my life at the time!”
Shuri stared at him for a long moment before cautiously questioning, “Haha? Funny joke?”
“No, I was actually dying at the time,” Tony said, poking at a leaf. “The phytochelatins really helped.”
Shuri heard a wheeze but did not turn. She was certain she’d see T’Challa and M’Baku’s reactions when she went over video tonight to find them being stupid. “That is sad. You make me sad.”
“I make most people sad,” Tony reasoned. “You should hear what Rhodey has to say about me. According to him I’m the saddest person on the planet.”
“I believe him already,” Shuri said. “Come on. We’re going to go blow something up.”
“Okay,” Tony replied, always game to blow something up, and turned to say goodbye. He paused. “...Hmm.”
T’Challa and M’Baku did not look up from where they were learning against each other, dismayed, and muttering under their breaths.
“I’m blowing up T’Challa’s suit,” Shuri decided, and grabbed Tony’s arm to drag him away.
“It’s very high in vitamin C too which helped me protect against colds with my weak immune system,” Tony added.
“Wonderful,” Shuri said, and was only partly sarcastic.
.-.-.-.
“M’Baku gave me a gorilla pelt,” Tony said.
Shuri stared at him and took a long sip from her water bottle.
Tony was silent for a while, just staring into space, before he jumped, seeming to come back to himself. “And T’Challa gave me a necklace with real actual panther teeth.”
Shuri took a longer sip from her water bottle and wished her mother hadn’t banned her from drinking in the lab.
“I can’t take either of these things home with me,” Tony added, bewildered. “I’ve already been sued by PETA once. I can’t take an actual goddamn pelt and necklace made of animal teeth back to America.”
Shuri spewed her water, laughing.
Nakia looked up from the communication device Shuri had recently made for her, something more discreet than what she’d had previously. “Why were you sued by PETA?”
“Because they thought I was promoting a cruel lifestyle after photos of me lying on a bear-skin rug got out,” Tony said. “It was the nineties. I was very drunk.”
Shuri was quickly dissolving into tears. “Photos of you lying on a bear-skin rug!?”
“I was naked. They said I was disrespectful,” Tony continued. “And to be fair! I was. But I was also an idiot teenager and was mostly just trying to disrespect my dad. In any case all that happened was that PETA lost their case and I got invited to lots of weird photo shoots after that.”
Nakia watched Shuri fall to her knees, laughing so hard she no longer even made a sound, then turned to Tony. “Which gift do you like better?”
Tony stared at her, perplexed, and answered, “I know the bear-skin rug thing might be confusing you but I honestly don’t want either of these objects.”
“HAAAAAAAAAhaha,” Shuri shrieked, rolling on to her side.
Nakia walked over and put her hands on Tony’s shoulders. “Tony,” she told him seriously. “Please believe me when I say this: This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“You want me to be arrested,” Tony surmised, although he didn’t look too bothered by it.
“No,” Nakia assured him. “Please wear both these items to dinner.”
“This seems like a mistake,” Tony said.
“Please,” Nakia said again.
“How do I wear a gorilla pelt,” Tony asked. “Also? Shuri might be dying.”
“This is more important,” Nakia promised him.
.-.-.-.
Tony wore both the gorilla pelt and the necklace of panther teeth to dinner.
Queen Ramonda was quiet for approximately fifteen seconds before she daintily wiped her mouth, stood from the table, and left.
Tony watched her go, dismayed. “Oh no.”
“Tony,” Okoye said, not unkindly, and then grabbed his chair and yanked him backward.
Tony let out a startled screech as M’Baku and T’Challa collided in the air where he’d been only seconds before and immediately tried to beat the shit out of each other. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”
“This is the best day of my life!” Nakia crowed.
“Okoye do something!” Tony wailed.
Okoye looked amused but also like she was trying as hard as possible not to look amused. “As part of the Dora Milaje, I must stand idly by during fights during only two occasions: During ritual combat for the crown, and during ritual combat for a spouse.”
“You guys said T’Challa already fought for the crown?!” Tony howled, confused.
Both Shuri and Okoye gave him very disappointed looks. Nakia probably would have as well, but she was busy egging M’Baku and T’Challa on.
“They’re fighting over who gets to marry you, Tony,” Shuri finally explained when he began looking more distressed.
Tony stared at her, uncomprehending. “What?”
“M’Baku gave you a gorilla pelt, a very high honor among his people,” Okoye explained. “And we shouldn’t have to explain how important panthers are to ours.”
Tony stared at her as well, then turned toward the grappling pair, face stony.
.-.-.-.
“―And then Tony started beating them with his chair and said they hadn’t even asked him on one date,” Shuri said gleefully, showing her mother the video. “You should have stayed and seen it! It was hilarious!”
Ramonda took a slow sip of her tea as she watched. “I didn’t want to look like I condoned it. Although it looks like Tony had things well in hand; I needn’t have bothered.”
"Yes," Shuri agreed, grinning, as she looked at the video again.
“And what is my son and his romantic rival doing now?”
“Taking Tony out on a date,” Shuri giggled. “They tried to argue that the fight could at least be for the right to take him out first but he started beating them with his chair again and said he wasn’t a prize to be won, he was a human being with feelings. And then he demanded an entire bottle of wine all to himself when he gets back because ‘you two are enough to drive a man to it.’”
“He’s not wrong,” Ramonda decided. “Send him two.”
.-.-.-.
Tony sent them a picture of all three of them wearing socks and sandals on a Hawaiian beach for their anniversary. Shuri laughed until she got the hiccups.
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The wall and the baby (DC Universe, AU)
Amanda Waller, AKA the wall was known for many things. Her hard nose attuide, her belief that she knew right and damn everyone else, and her big baby husband Bruce Wayne. They had met at a gala, where Bruce had been head over heels with her despite well, less the striking figure but it didn't take long to figure out a few things about the Billionaire playboy. One, he was a chubby chaser who had actually kept drooling as they chatted, blushing and saying sorry when she had pointed it out with a smirk. Two, Due to his parents passing away in a skiing accident when he was 12, he had a VERY strong attraction to ladies who gave off a semi mommy energy. Now normally anyone who worked under the wall would of told you that the last aura she projected was that of a mommy, but since she had been there to suck up for some more founding for task force X, she'd had on a kinder face then normal. She did have to admit that it was cute seeing this handsome young man stumbling over his words and clearly love stuck, and so had come home with him that night. And the next night and the night after that. They had barely dated for a bare four months before they were walking down the aisle, Waller in a dashing white dress and Bruce in a pair of short alls and a puffy butt as by that point he was living as her big baby, 24/7. She assumed control of Wayne enterprises and put the corporation to work for Task force X, though most of the day to day was handled much as before, by Mr.fox. Bruce's days meanwhile were filled with making pretty pictures for mommy, playing with his toys and playing in mommies office, and of course, making mommy presents.
It was 7:30 am as Waller came into Bruce's nursery, wrinkling her nose a little at the smell that filled the room but it was all part of the mommy game and she forced the look off of her face as she made her way over the plush carpet that filled the room. Technically she could of sent Alfred in to wake Bruce up but she still felt bad about making Bruce sleep in his nursery last night instead of in bed with her, she'd been up late monitoring a mission to take out a drug cartel in San Baquero. For the most part Bruce just thought she had a very special job with the government and didn't ask too many questions, and in a way he wasn't wrong. but that still didn't mean she wanted him to see the ugly side of her work. shaking those thoughts out of her head, and hat a pain it was gonna be to replace Knockout on the team, she leaned over the side of Bruce's crib railing and smiled. here was a fit young man who could of been a star athlete, and instead he was sucking on a pacifier wearing a light grey onsie that helped keep him from wiggling out of the custom made extra bulky diapers that made it a chore for even Bruce to waddle, and let him stew in his messes for hours on end just like he wanted. 'Sometimes I wonder what I did to end up so lucky~' Waller gushed mentally, then gently patted the bugling (and not just from natural bulk) seat of Bruce's pamper butt. "Hey there sleepy head, time to get up~" she called softly. She of course had been up since 5 am, but unlike Bruce she thrived on little to none sleep and actually was more grumpy when she got a full 8 hours in. Bruce gurgled behind his paci and opened one eye, then grinned and let the paci slid out of his mouth. "Nggggh five more minutes mommy~" He giggled playfully. the big baby knew Waller let him sleep in as long as she could if he wanted to come in with her to work, and he'd been VERY clear that he got to come into the office today. "Sorry my adorable little stinker, if you wanna be mommies cute widdle secretary you have to get up now. for one thing, SOMEBODY needs a diapie change." "-GASP- Did Alfred poop himself!" Bruce asked and giggled like he'd told the funniest joke ever. "heh, you're such a goof ball~ come on Bruce Sweetie, let's get you changed before you make mommies nose fall off."
One smelly diaper change later (which had left Waller seeing just how 'happy' he was to see and regretful they didn't have time for a quick roll in the sack) and Bruce was dressed in triple thick diapers and a black diaper shirt with light grey overall's on, Black and grey being his favorite colors. His bottom was puffed out and he was forced to crawl to the dining room where he was helped into his high chair, and while Waller had her normal steak and egg's with black coffe,she would pasue now and then to spoon anther mouthful of apple cinnamon oatmeal into the mouth of her big baby who gurgled and coo'ed, gushing about how much 'artz' he was gonna do for mommy t'day. "I'm gonna draw you a duck, and a bat, and and a fire truck and and and-" he babbled, only shush as mommy got anther mouthful in in mouth, taking care not to get any on his clothes. "Mhhm I bet you are, and they'll join the rest of your pretty pictures on my office wall, though I might bring some home for the fridge. what do you think Alfred?" She asked, amused and turning to look at the butler. The older man gave a smile. "well i for one would be VERY much honored if I could have some of Master Wayne's artwork on the fridge. But I didn't wanna speak up." he said. Waller had been worried the seemingly stuffie old butler would of been a stick in the mud when she and Bruce had first started dating, but in fact the old Englishman had helped give her pointer for dealing with his immature employer. "oh! I sowwy Alfred! I didn't even think bout that!" Bruce said, looking guilty. "Think nothing of it Master Wayne, I was just saying." "Nooo I'ma draw you a super cool picture!" Bruce promised, then grinned impishly. "Butttt not gonna tell ya what it is, it'll be a surprise!" he added with a giggle. "I shall be waiting with baited breath." Alfred chuckled and cleared the dishes away as Waller helped Bruce out of his high chair. "We should be back around 5:30ish Alfred, and I'm thinking me and Bruce would like some-" Waller started, but was cut off by her little guy as he wiggled his massive diaper butt back and forth. "Grilled cheese and fries! grilled cheese and fries!" He chanted. "heh..Grilled cheese and fries apparently." Waller said and ruffled Bruce's hair.
One half hour drive later and Bruce was crawling next to mommy as they made they're way though the hall's of Cadmus, getting amused looks and waves from staff who knew all about him, and baffled looks from those who had just been transferred. (and in one case the new head of genetics looked at her coffee she had been drinking from and dumped it in the nearest waste basket.) Getting into her office, it was almost exactly what you would expect for the head of a secret branch of the government charged with policing meta-humans and nipping problems in the bud. A high tech desk with a built in computer that could connect Waller to any database she might need, a direct line to the president him, a selection of hand guns in protective cases that only Waller could open (the glass had been installed after Bruce had mistakenly believe they were toys, thankfully no one had been hurt). The office would of had a cold and sterile feeling to it, if not for the corner of it that was dedicated JUST to Bruce. there was a patch of extra plush carpet, a small toy chest with just stuffies, a little desk (fisher price but bigger for the big baby) for him to make his drawing at and of course lots of crayons for him, and the walls were plastered with all the pictures he had made so far. Of course justifying having her big baby in the office hadn't been easy, even for Waller, at least till she pointed out just how much Wayne enterprises helped with the budget for the last line of defense against say, a rouge justice league. add in the expense of his little space was coming right from the Wayne/Waller fortune and well, The president had dropped the topic fairly quick. Bruce took his seat at his drawing table, and getting out some paper got right to work making arts, after getting a pair of headphones on that would be playing nursery music. marveling at just how god damn cute her widdle Brucie was, then brought up a chat with Rick flag so they could go over options for replacing the decreased Knock Out.
Bruce was humming away, rocking to his favorite song, 'the wheels on the bus' when he felt a cramp in his tummy. Looking up at the clock he was a little shocked, he mostly had a soiled schedule for his BM's but he knew when a poopie was brewing and it was a full 2 hours early, with it only just going onto 9:30. He looked over and Mommy was still making a call with one of her friends, and while she mostly dotted on him she had asked him to try and refrain from 'playing the butt trumpet' when she was on a call. He tried to focus on the picture he was making for Alfred, he was drawing his own superhero he had come up with, even though he knew for the most part mommy didn't like them. This superhero actually had no powers, and was like a ninja with a whole bat theme going on, and Bruce called him Bat Dude. he knew the name could use a little work but for now, it would work. As he colored in Bat dude's cape, all black of course, the cramps got worse and he leaned forward to try and help with the pressure. all that did however was bring thing to a boil and he could hear himself, even with his music playing loudly in his ear's let out a massive roar of a fart. if mommy hadn't of been on a call, and giving him a glare, Bruce almost would of been proud of it. Instead he gave a meek smile and lisped out a sorry, then made a face and stuck out his touage as the smell reached him. Looking over at mommy, who normally could take on his smelliest diaper with a bare reaction, he watched her nose twitch and she reached into her desk and brought out a scented handkerchief and pressed it to her face. "S-Sowwy.."
Rick flag did his best not to react to the sound that interrupted their call, but he was only human and the corners of his mouth were twitching as Waller was forced to grab a scented handkerchief and pressed it to her face. "Ma'am, If you need to call me back, I understand you may have other pressing concerns." He said. "I'm Muting my end of the call, but stay on for a few colonel, and I'll let you know." Waller said, hitting the button and muting Flag before he could reply. He was a good soldier and she knew he'd follow his order's anyways. Getting up from her desk she walked over to Bruce who was hunched over, holding his tummy. "are you ok sweetie?" She asked, leaning down and rubbing his back. "I..I don't think so.." Bruce said, of course having slid his head phones off as she walked over. "what's wrong Bruce?" she asked, putting a hand to his forehead and noting a slight fever for the first time. "Tummy hurts. gonna go uh-oh any second. I sowwy." Bruce whimpered, tearing up. "Shhh it's ok Bruce. you can go ahead and go uh-oh, and while you do that Mommies gonna arrange for one of her work friends to take over for her. I think somebody needs to go home, he's under the weather." she said warmly. She of course wouldn't of gone home if it was just her who was sick, having famously stayed at her desk and suffering though a Thangarian flu last year, but she wasn't gonna make her little guy suffer here when he could be looked after in the comfort of their home. As she moved back over to her desk to let Flag know he could make the final selection for the new member of task force X himself, as she trusted his judgement, as well as trying to decide between Eiling or Hamilton for taking over for her, a long booming blast came out of her little guys butt. Turning around she was almost transfixed on the site of the rapidly growing seat, and for a second wondered if maybe just maybe, if this wasn't some sorta meta human power manifesting. Sure, super human pooping would be a first but who knew with some of these freaks? She banished that thought almost right away even as the fumes from Bruce's diapers filled the office, so powerful she almost swore for a second she could SEE them. One because she had secretly had Bruce tested for the meta gene, and Two because she could never consider her little guy a 'freak'. "Guess it's a good thing we triple diapered you huh?" She asked, as Bruce was standing now, the back of his overalls straining as he grunted and groaned, but he nodded lots. "Oh god mommy, Hurts!" he whined and then sucked on his thumb, finishing his uber mess off with a last few weak sputtering farts. Alarms went off in the office as air quilty dropped, and Waller made the command decision to just make her calls from the car..as well as change Bruce outside.
After a check up with a trusted family doctor, one Leslie thompkins, Bruce was diagnosed with just a bad tummy bug..and being guilty of having been sleep waking in the middle of the night and raiding the fridge. Alfred had just assumed that Waller had been doing it since between his diapers and the high railing.. In any case there were changes to be made around the house, more baby proofing to be done, and Waller just spent the day field testing a new set of nose filters that would keep one save from toxic gasses and did a decent job with bad smells. Snuggling with he big baby on their bed, and watching tv, Waller again thought about what life might of been like with out the little stinker..and decided it wasn't worth thinking about before planting a kiss on his forehead.
the end
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TFP Decepticons with a young human charge who's a ballerina, just having the young child shyly ask them for a ride to their practices or even inviting their bot to attend a recital in a holoform if possible. I live for big scary beings protecting soft ones. Which of the bots is more likely to have a soccer mom kinda attitude in regards to the child? (Sorry if it seems like a repeat, was unsure if the first one had sent due to bad snow weather.)
Don’t worry sweet spark, it’s not a repeat and I love this prompt! I also have a huge soft spot for giant scary beings protecting small soft ones!
Megatron
Megatron wasn’t entirely sure how the small human had weaseled its way into his spark, but he was still very supportive. Part of it was him justifying the idea of this ‘ballet’ as being a way of training you to increase your athletic ability with something you enjoy. He’d never admit to being proud whenever you’d come running up to his holoform after practice and show him what all you’d learned while on the way to his hidden alt-mode. He is somehow still surprised though when you offer him a flier for your recital. He looked it over before nodding. It’s not too far away so he can postpone any potentially disastrous plans until afterwards to make sure that he’s there. And there he is, his holoform walking in a few minutes early to get his seat. He never interacted with the humans but they knew him from picking you up so he didn’t draw too much attention thankfully. He had even gotten his hands on a video camera to “record your progress.” He is silent through the hold thing but very proud. He feels a small pang of something akin to guilt when noticing most of the other ballerinas got flowers from their family afterwards. However he picks you up and carries you out to his alt-mode again, taking you home and praising you the whole way back. Should any of the other parents or the instructor have an issue with you, saying you’re too quiet or shy or something, he’d probably risk getting into a fight. He’d do his best to avoid it actually, not wanting you to get kicked out of the program. This might lead to him not being present for some of the practices, but he is always waiting right outside for you.
Soundwave
Soundwave always went because he wanted to ensure your safety and couldn’t exactly leave Laserbeak there alone waiting for you. He always stays in the back in his holoform, staying completely silent and recording you in your practices because he is a proud adoptive guardian. He never says a word and has probably drawn some attention, but he will nod in greeting to everyone but never more. When he finds out that you have a recital he has already gotten permission from Megatron to attend, and due to being on top of his work it’s not a problem. He knew about the custom of bringing flowers for the end of a large performance so he gets you a small bouquet of your favorites, leading you to his alt-mode and holding your hand as you two walked. It’s hard for outsiders to tell but you have learned to read him well and he is absolutely radiating pride. If anyone showed displeasure at your quiet nature he’d just stare the person down, without making a sound, until they back down or change their mind. Even in his holoform he can be extremely intimidating.
Starscream
Starscream would never pass up a chance to be proud of you and show you off. He let’s you be shy but he’ll still brag. He’s probably been kicked out of a few practices for being too loud. He is definitely the soccer-mom type, but thankfully has enough control to behave himself for a recital. He’ll help you get ready, learning all of the intricacies of the outfits and minute details like any hair and make-up. His child must be the best looking of course! He cheers and applauded loudly at the end of the show and waits for you, absolutely preening when he scooped you up in a hug. He carries you to his alt-mode happily, giving you all of the compliments. If you ask, he’ll even take you out to get some food or a toy or something you want. And by ‘get’ you something, he probably has to steal it unfortunately. But anything for his perfect little ballerina! If someone were to suggest he make you come out of your shell more, he would make a pretty big scene. How dare someone suggest he change something about you! You’re perfect as you are, and he would start to tear apart their kid (figuratively, of course.) However you could stop him by giving him puppy dog eyes and gently tugging his sleeve. You have him wrapped around your finger.
Knockout
Knockout is similar to Starscream in ensuring his child looks the best, and is somewhat of a soccer mom but a well-behaved one. He makes sure you have everything, and has a bag of spare everything he’ll keep in his alt-mode just to be safe. His holoform definitely gets attention because even though it’s supposed to be to blend in, he of course had to make his holoform as attractive as he could. He’ll hold your hand until you have to go for practice or your recital, and is so proud. He totally isn’t emotional by the end of your big show, scooping you up in a hug and taking you back to the Nemesis. He’s so proud of you! Similar to Starscream, should someone tell him that you’re too shy, you need to put yourself out there more, he would turn it on them. However he’s much calmer about it, and has most likely mastered the art of “Bless Your Little Heart”, where you insult someone but subtly. Then he’d smile sweetly and scoop you up to leave.
Breakdown
Breakdown is the most awkward of the gang because his holoform is still large and bulky, and he has no clue what to do. He’d have to turn to Knockout for help with getting you ready, because the one time he tried it was a mess. But the parents love him because he’s sweet, so long as no one insults you or hurt you. Then he’ll get intimidating. He goes to all of your practices and recitals to make sure you’re ok, not trusting the other humans to keep you safe. He gives you lots of praise but also makes sure that you’re still ok with everything, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed or anything. He wants you to know you have a choice.
#text post#transformers imagine#transformers imagines#tfp#transformers prime#megatron#starscream#soundwave#knockout#breakdown#tfp megatron#tfp starscream#tfp soundwave#tfp knockout#tfp breakdown#anon#thanks for the ask!#maccadam#ballerina#I seriously have a HUGE soft spot for stuff like this#big bad bots taking care of small innocent humans#YES PLEASE#I LOVE doing these prompts so if you have any feel free to send them!!#I got a liiiittle carried away with this one after all ^-^''
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