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writeonwhiskey · 16 hours ago

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act like you love me: ch 8

a/n: apologies this is late. i listed the dates to post these chapters before taking into account the changes in my schedule for the summer 🫨 word count: 4k tracklist: behind the light [ fic master list ]

8 - Mostly Professional

WEEK 6 (continued)

Waking up next to Hyunjin’s warm body confirms last night wasn’t a dream.

And more than that—it meant something.

The last few weeks of whatever has been brewing between you hadn’t just been in your head. The feeling—the connection, it was all real.

But that doesn’t stop the alarm bells from ringing.

Because no matter how much you wanted it, you don’t know if it should have happened.

Still, you don’t move away. With one leg draped over his, his arm loosely around your waist—you stay where you are, letting yourself feel the terrifying comfort of it.

You fit together too well. Like you were made to.

And that scares the hell out of you.

You shut your eyes and press your forehead against his chest, as if the pressure might quiet the panic rising within you.

You were hoping this wouldn’t feel like anything. A passing curiosity…an itch you both wanted to scratch.

But this? This morning-after cuddling? This soft, sleepy warmth wrapped around you? This feels like the beginning of something. And that’s a problem.

You’ve worked too hard to let a whispered rumor ruin it all. So has he. You know how the industry works—people love to talk. One careless moment, one slip, and suddenly your name is tangled up in headlines that have nothing to do with your talent.

On-set romances are messy. They’re dangerous. Career altering. You told yourself you wouldn’t go there. And yet—here you are.

But it’s not because you were caught up in the heat of the moment…not really. It’s also not because it felt impulsive or reckless. It wasn’t like that at all. It was a slow, inevitable crossing of a line you kept redrawing, closer and closer, until there was nowhere left to stand. You let this happen. You wanted it, even knowing the cost.

It felt that powerful.

Behind you, Hyunjin stirs. His hand slides up your back, and then he mumbles sleepily, “Don’t move.”

You bite your lip.

You don’t want to.

God, you don’t want to.

So, you stay a little longer, letting yourself have this one small, selfish moment. One soft, quiet breath where it’s just you and him and none of the consequences.

But eventually, you do pull away. Slowly. Reluctantly. His arm tightens reflexively before loosening. He shifts to his side and sprawls across the bed as you slip out.

You cover yourself with an over-sized, off-the-shoulder sweater before padding to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and to try steadying your thoughts.

In the kitchen, you put the kettle on and lean against the counter, fingers brushing your lips.

Why did it have to feel that good?

It would have been easier if it were bad.

But it wasn’t.

It was incredible. The ache between your legs is a traitor’s reminder of just how incredible it was.

But it’s not just the sex. That’s what makes it dangerous.

It’s the fact that it’s too easy to like Hyunjin after peeling back some of his layers. It’s too easy to want to be around him. Too easy to memorize the way he smiles when he thinks you’re not looking. Too easy to feel wanted when he touches you.

You start telling yourself it can be a one-time thing. A mistake you won’t repeat. Something you can tuck away and forget as soon as you step back on set. You only have a month left of filming and then he’ll return to a world of glitz and glamour far beyond the scope of what you ever imagined for yourself. You can get through this.

Your phone rings, pulling you back to reality. You swallow the lump in your throat and glance at the screen. It’s your agent.

“Hey,” you answer softly.

“How’s everything going?”

“It’s going really well,” you say. And for the most part, it’s not a lie.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” She pauses for a beat. “Have you given any thought to the KBS offer?”

You exhale. It’s a big opportunity. A shift. But one that could change your trajectory as Hyunjin mentioned last night.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Really?” she sounds surprised. “I was sure I’d have to twist your arm a little.”

“No—I’m okay with it. Tell them yes.”

“Okay, I’ll get the contracts drawn up. We’ll need to boost your socials. A few curated posts to grow your following in the days leading up to your appearance on the show.”

“I don’t know what to post.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll get the team on it. Oh! You’ve gotten kind of close with Hyunjin, right?”

Your heart immediately starts hammering behind your chest.

“We’re friends, sure,” you say too quickly.

As if summoned, Hyunjin emerges from the hallway, gloriously naked. Your eyes snap away, heat rushing to your face.

“Do you think he’d be open to some behind the scenes shots? Nothing that gives away the plot, just enough to tease the chemistry. Maybe he can post it as well and tag you—it would give your account a boost.”

You feel like you’re choking.

This. This is why it’s too risky.

Because using him for clout—packaging intimacy into content—feels like betrayal. Of him. Of yourself. Of what last night meant.

Your agent asking this confirms that a relationship with him would only diminish the hard work you’ve put in on your own.

“I don’t know. I’ll ask,” you murmur.

“Keep me posted. And remember—run everything you post through the team first, okay?”

“Yeah. Will do. Bye.”

You set your phone down and exhale sharply.

When you turn around, Hyunjin is standing across from you now, pants on but shirtless, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

You don’t want them to, but your eyes trail down the lines of his chest, taking in the way those chiseled muscles taper into his jeans, and that damn slutty waist of his.

"You just gonna run off without saying anything?" he teases lightly, voice still rough with sleep.

You gesture toward the stove as the kettles start to whistle. “I’m making tea.”

“I used your toothbrush, by the way.”

You scrunch your nose. “Gross.”

“Really? That’s too intimate for you? After everything we did last night.”

Touche. It hadn’t been once. Or twice. To be honest, you’d lost count after the shower. You devoured each other, over and over.

“I have spares. You could have asked.”

“I wanted to use yours,” he says, stepping behind you. His arms slide around your waist as you pour the scalding water into two mugs.

You catch yourself as you start leaning into his embrace, snaking away from him. "We should...talk.”

You drop the tea bags into the mugs and turn to lean against the counter. You push at his chest gently to create some space between you, and he lets you.

He props himself against the opposite counter, watching you too closely.

"We have to keep things professional,” you begin. “On set. Around the team. It’s better if we pretend nothing happened."

Hyunjin's smile fades into something softer, unreadable. "For the project?" he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You nod, feeling the tightness in your chest. “Last night was…great, but we both know there’s no future here. That was the one and only time.”

He tilts his head. “Just ‘great’?”

“Hyunjin.”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, hands raised. “Go on.”

“There’s too much at stake for both of us,” you say. “This thing—whatever this is—it can’t go anywhere.”

“Shouldn’t we get to enjoy our lives, too?”

“It wouldn’t lead anywhere. That’s what I’m saying.” You brush him off. “Let’s just agree to keep it professional.”

“Sure,” he says, standing up straight. He starts toward you, and you can feel your heartbeat pick up with every step. “Professional.”

He stops in front of you, gaze never leaving yours. He lifts your hand to his lips, kisses your knuckles, then higher, brushing your wrist, then your forearm. A shiver runs through you.

You should pull back. You told yourself you would. But instead, you find yourself leaning in, drawn by the quiet pull of him, the way he makes it so easy to forget every reason you had to resist.

"Hyunjin..." you whisper, caught somewhere between warning and want.

“Tell me to stop.”

He says it so softly. So dangerously—like he knows that phrase is your kryptonite.

His mouth trails up your arm, to your shoulder, then your neck—each kiss unraveling more of your resolve.

“Tell me…” he murmurs.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Your hands wrap around his neck — tugging him closer, needing more. You slide your hands up to his head, rubbing the velvety texture of his hair as you pull him harder against you.

"Just one more ti—" you start, but his lips capture yours before you can finish.

Your sweater slides off your shoulders, pooling around your hips as he lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs. His hands roam—your waist, your thighs, your back—exploring like he’s reclaiming you. You tilt your head back, granting him more access, and he takes it greedily, kissing a path down your throat.

He lifts you again, arms strong around you, and carries you to the living room. You don’t say anything to stop him.

You don't want to.

At the back of the couch, he sets you down and pulls away just enough to look at you. He cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. You meet his eyes, breathing heavy, lips parted in anticipation. He kisses you once more before turning you around. He lifts your sweatshirt, revealing that you didn’t bother to put anything on beneath it when you got out of bed.

“Fuck, y/n…” he groans.

His hands skim down your back, over your ass, fingers sliding between your legs. He rubs his fingers up and down your slit, feeling how wet you already are as he laces your back with kisses. He works your pussy as if he became an expert in one night, teasing your clit one minute, then fucking you with his fingers the next.

His other hand comes up, groping your breasts, pulling a moan from your throat.

“You like it a little rough, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear as he pulls at your nipple.

You nod, unabashedly.

Then his hand climbs higher—wrapping around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds, grounding you against his chest as his fingers fuck your pussy. You gasp, body trembling from the overload of sensation.

“Does that feel good?” he breathes.

“Yes,” you pant, hips circling against his hand.

His hand at your neck slides around to the back, and he guides you down until you’re bent over the couch. You hear him drop to his knees behind you and feel his fingers part your cheeks.

“How am I supposed to stay professional,” he muses, “when I’ve already seen this pretty pussy?”

His tongue replaces his fingers, and you push your ass back for more. But before you can enjoy his tongue too much, he slips two fingers back inside.

“You want me to pretend like I haven’t tasted you?”

He withdraws them slowly, then brings them to his lips, sucking them clean.

“I’m not that good of an actor.”

He stands, pushes down his pants, and without hesitation, sinks into you with one firm thrust.

Every thought you had earlier? Gone.

Every rebuttal? Shattered.

This—this is what you want.

Giving your body to him completely.

To cry his name.

To push back against his cock and beg for more.

He grips your hips and fucks you harder. You hold onto the couch to keep yourself steady, meeting each thrust with your own.

You were wrong before.

This will be the last time.

It has to be.

WEEK 7

But it’s not.

The next week slips by in a haze of long hours and secret glances across crowded sets.

You and Hyunjin are getting along better than ever—laughing between takes, moving through scenes with an easy rhythm that has the crew praising your chemistry.

It’s a dangerous dance you’re playing behind the scenes. Stealing moments when no one’s looking. Disappearing into one of your dressing rooms under the pretense of running lines when all you’re really doing is touching, tasting, needing each other in a way that feels addictive.

And although it feels like you’re doing a good job of hiding it, you can’t tell if Minho and Han are starting to catch on. During a scene where Jae-hoon and the innkeeper share a lingering look, Minho smirks as soon as Chan calls cut.

“Should we leave you two alone for privacy?” he asks, loud enough that you and Hyunjin can hear him.

Han throws his arm around Minho, grinning, “Nah, let’s stay. See the good stuff for ourselves.”

You try to laugh it off and scrunch up your face in disgust.

“We’re just good at what we do,” Hyunjin shrugs it off.

Thankfully Minho and Han leave it at that, but Hyunjin shoots you a wink when they’re not looking. You shake your head and turn away, clenching your jaw to keep from smiling.

Whatever that’s going on between you isn’t negatively affecting filming. So it feels fine. Like maybe you can get through this while having your cake and eating it too, because you don’t want to stop fucking Hyunjin. Sleeping next to him. Laughing with him. Holding him.

It’s thrilling.

But every time you let it happen again, you always tell yourself it's the last time. That you'll be smarter tomorrow.

You pull the innkeeper’s pants back up while Hyunjin is seated on the couch in his trailer, still shirtless, catching his breath. As you pull the pants up near your ass, he lurches forward, hooking a finger in the belt loop and drags you to him.

“Don’t put that away yet,” he says, cupping your ass as he kisses your bare stomach.

“We’ve been ‘running lines’ for twenty minutes,” you say, looking around for your shirt. “We need to go back.”

He lifts his gaze, locking eyes with you as he nibbles at the soft flesh of your stomach. “But my dick is still hard.”

You close your eyes, as if not being able to see him will release you from the never-ending temptation that is horny Hyunjin wanting you.

He tugs at the pants, but you hold onto them tighter to keep them from moving. Not one to back down from a challenge, he manages to slip a hand beneath your underwear, his path clear since you haven’t buttoned the jeans yet. His fingers find your folds, stroking between them until your hips are rocking towards his face.

“And your pussy is still dripping,” he murmurs.

You place your hands on his head, wishing his hair wasn’t buzzed off so you had something to grip. You palm his forehead and push until he’s leaning back against the couch, but his fingers are still on you.

You grab his wrist, but he doesn’t still his movements, and you can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips.

“Don’t make me put you in timeout, Hyunjin. Stop.”

He doesn’t play around when that word comes out of your mouth.

He sighs, reluctantly removing his hand. “What if I can’t?”

“You just did?” you counter, buttoning up your jeans.

“No, I mean in general,” he says, reaching for his shirt to pull over his head. “What if I can’t stop wanting you?”

You’ve asked yourself that very question.

Is it normal to want someone this much? Is it just infatuation onset by the close proximity and the developing emotions of the characters you’re playing? Will these feelings fade when filming ends?

You lean back against the vanity as you button up your shirt. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Sex?” he sasses, pulling his briefs back on.

You look around the vanity for something to throw at him, but there’s nothing.

“With a co-star.”

“No,” he says softly. “I haven’t ever wanted to…before you.”

You mull over that for a moment, letting his words wash over you.

“Do you think this is only exciting because it’s a secret we’re hiding from everyone?”

He’s quiet as he considers your question.

“No,” he says again. “It adds to it, sure, but I don’t think that’s all this is.”

“It is,” you say, defiantly lying.

He stands from the couch and closes the distance between you. He leans down so you’re eye to eye.

“Bullshit,” he calls you out. “I could never get a good read on you at first, you know that? I wasn’t sure if you felt this too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to cross this line with me for a million different reasons. But we did. And I like it. And so do you.”

“What would your agency say?” you counter, because one of you must remain level-headed.

He leans back at that.

“Exactly,” you say in response to his silence. “It’s just fun. That’s all it can be.”

He steps forward again.

“So now I’m just a good time?” His leans down to kiss you briefly.

“You’re impossible.”

He grins, pulling his pants back on. “You love it.”

“I don’t,” you shake your head.

Love is too strong of a word. It’s not allowed in this space.

Week 8

The sneaking around continues. The whispered declarations that this can’t work, that it’s just a phase, become fewer and farther between. At some point, you both surrender to the pull. It’s not a relationship—not officially—but it feels like more than just sex.

After a late night of filming, you, Hyunjin, Minho and Han go out for dinner. The four of you fall into easy conversation over shared plates and empty soju bottles. You make sure to sit at the opposite end of the table from Hyunjin, and he respects that choice.

You’re not feeling great, but you’ve put on your best face, not wanting to miss out or draw attention. You push your food around your plate more than you eat it, hoping no one notices.

Minho nudges you lightly. “Don’t tell me you’re full already. We have another course coming.”

“I’m pacing myself,” you lie with a small smile.

Across the table, Hyunjin meets your gaze for the briefest second—just long enough for his eyes to soften, the hint of concern flickering there before he looks away again. He doesn’t push. He plays it cool, leaning into the performance of indifference, but every so often you feel his attention on you like a phantom touch.

And once you’re back at the hotel, taking the elevator up, the familiar pull begins. It’s quiet—just the four of you. Everyone’s mellow from the alcohol and the long day. Minho and Han are talking about some game they’re planning to play when they get back to their rooms.

When the elevator dings at your floor, you step out with Minho and Han—but then Hyunjin follows, like he’s on autopilot.

Minho arches an eyebrow. “Where are you going. Mr. Penthouse?”

Hyunjin freezes mid-step. For a second, it’s like the mask slips—the man who’s been sneaking into your bed without hesitation now caught in the act.

You shoot daggers at him with your eyes, trying to will him back inside the elevator. Your heart pounds—not from fear of discovery, but from the weight of realizing how much you want him with you tonight, even though sex is the furthest thing from your mind.

Hyunjin backpedals with a shrug and a crooked grin. “Too much soju. This isn’t the top-billed cast member floor.”

The tension in your shoulders ease as he steps back inside casually, like it was nothing, but you both know better. The ache of wanting and not having simmers beneath your skin all the way back to your room.

Your body aches—not just from the long day, but from the dull, persistent cramping that’s been nagging at you since this afternoon. You hadn’t mentioned it at dinner—at a table full of men. You’d smiled and laughed and played your part, even when you weren’t feeling up to it.

You shower, change into your pajamas and just when you’re curling up in bed, your phone buzzes.

Pastry Prince👑 [11:48 PM]: you want to come up?

You hesitate, then start typing.

You [11:50 PM]: Not tonight. Sorry. I’m kind of dead and cramping.

There’s a pause, and you wince at the reply you expect: a thumbs-up emoji, maybe. Silence. Instead—

Pastry Prince👑 [11:52 PM]: cramping like…period cramping?

You stare at the screen, a little surprised he even asked.

You [11:52 PM]: Yeah.

Pastry Prince👑 [11:53 PM]: got it. stay put.

You [11:53 PM]: Literally wouldn’t move if I could.

No response.

You turn on the TV in your room for some background noise, flicking through the channels before settling on a recently released movie.

Thirty minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You pull yourself out of bed to answer it. You open it just a crack—only to see Hyunjin standing there with a plastic bag clutched in both hands and a very awkward expression on his face.

“Don’t judge me,” he says immediately, pushing the door open wider. “I ran over to the convenience store but had no idea what to get.”

He steps inside, kicks off his shoes and walks through the hotel room, turning the corner toward the bedroom. You follow after him, catching him inside unloading the bag on the bed like he’s giving a presentation.

“A heat patch,” he says, placing it down. “Two, actually. I wasn’t sure how long they last. Also got chocolate, ice cream…and this rice porridge thing that looked comforting. I don’t know. And tea. And water. And, uh—” he pauses, reaching into the bottom of the bag, “—some ibuprofen.”

You stare at the assortment, warmth slowly flooding through your chest. For a second, you forget about the dull ache in your lower belly. All you can feel is his thoughtfulness. His care.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you tell him.

But part of you aches at how much you wanted someone to. Because it’s been so long since someone did. With your family on the other side of the planet, you’ve learned to manage everything on your own, to pretend any moment of weakness is no big deal.

“I know.” He shrugs, setting the last item down. “But I wanted to.”

You glance up at him. His face is a little red, and he won’t quite meet your eyes.

You don’t know what to say. Not really. So, you just nod, figuring it’s a more favorable response than bursting into tears.

You wanted this to just be sex. Wanted to believe that’s all it was. But this? This is the part that will break you. This is what makes you start to hope for things you know you shouldn’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Seriously.”

He smiles—small, soft. “Get into bed. Do you want some ice cream?”

You nod again.

You lay in bed, paying more attention to the sound of him moving around in the kitchen than what’s on the TV. He comes back and you both eat bowls of ice cream together, cross-legged on the bed with a fresh movie playing in the background.

He disappears again when you’re done eating, leaving you with the chocolate and telling you to utilize one, or both, of the heating pads.

When he comes back, he climbs into bed next to you. He situates himself before wrapping an arm around you and pressing your head into his chest. Your body curls into his instinctively.

No kissing. No touching, beyond the warmth of his hand tracing circles around your back.

It’s the quietest night you’ve had together.

And somehow, the most intimate.

a/n: and i OOP. what are these wishy-washy feelings!? how could you resist hyunjin, though? lets be real. more soon -- still adjusting to my summer schedule (and trying to date? who am i rn??) so i may not be able to post for this fic twice a week moving forward since my time is cut down quite a bit.

@hwangjoanna / @hanniesbubuwife / @straycat420 / @tsunderelino / @dessianna1 / @akindaflora / @tirena1 / @krayzieestay / @ehstay / @spookiesakura / @aria-again / @sakuraseyebrow / @brekkers-whore / @sailor--sun

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfiction

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luciemggio · 2 days ago

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Need You Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Inspired by the song Need You Now by Lady Antebellum

Warnings: Angst | Emotional Reunion | Healing |

1:17 A.M.

The wine in your glass had long gone warm. You weren’t sure if it was your third or fourth, and it didn’t matter. The soft glow of the TV lit the living room in flickering shadows, but you weren’t watching. The only sound was the low murmur of late-night news you weren’t listening to.

You were wearing his sweatshirt. The navy blue one that still smelled faintly like his cologne if you pressed your face into the collar—something you swore you didn’t do anymore. Something you lied to yourself about.

You weren’t okay.

Not really.

You got up. You went to work. You smiled at friends. You laughed when appropriate. You said “I’m fine” so often it became muscle memory.

But every night, at this exact hour, you felt the emptiness settle into your chest like a second skin.

That was when the phone buzzed on the coffee table.

You didn’t move at first. You just stared at it, hesitant.

Bucky

1:17 a.m.

“You up?”

You read it once. Then again.

Your heart pounded so hard it felt like your ribs would bruise from the inside.

You hadn’t spoken in three months. Not since the fight. The one where he shut down so completely it felt like a door slamming shut on your chest.

You had cried, begged, asked him to stay.

He had stood there, jaw clenched, guilt written in the lines of his face, and said, “You don’t understand what I am. What I’ve done. You shouldn’t have to love someone like me.”

And then he left.

That night, you sat on the floor for hours, staring at the door.

You hadn’t cried like that since your mother died.

And now, here he was. A text. At 1 a.m.

You stared at the screen, fingers trembling.

Then without replying, you rose and crossed the room. You unlocked the door. And opened the window, the one he used to sneak through when the world felt too loud.

Because part of you always knew he’d come back.

1:43 A.M.

The knock was soft. Hesitant. Like he was already prepared for you not to answer.

You didn’t give him a chance to knock again.

The door opened to reveal him standing there in the yellow glow of your porch light. A hoodie pulled over his head, hair damp from the fog, shadows under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.

He looked thinner. Sadder. Like he’d been walking through hell barefoot.

You weren’t sure if you were angry or just relieved he still looked like your Bucky under all that pain.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said softly.

He nodded, eyes scanning your face, your figure, your bare feet on the wood floor. “I know.”

Silence stretched between you like a rubber band—taut and ready to snap.

“Then why are you?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His voice came out hoarse, cracked like glass. “Because I’ve tried everything else. Drinking. Running. Fighting ghosts. And nothing’s worked. You’re still there. In my head. In my dreams. Every night, I see your face. I hear your voice.”

He hesitated. Looked down. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You held onto the doorknob like it was anchoring you.

“You said you needed time,” you reminded him. “You said you weren’t good for me.”

“I thought I wasn’t,” he admitted, meeting your eyes. “I thought loving you would hurt you. That leaving would protect you. But I’ve been gone for ninety-four days, and I feel like I left my ribcage behind with you.”

Your chest ached.

“I still wait for your key in the door,” you whispered.

He stepped closer. “And I still sleep on the left side. Just in case you walk back in.”

You looked up at him, breathing shallow. “I didn’t walk away.”

“I know,” he murmured. “That was my mistake. The biggest one I’ve ever made.”

The street was silent. Only the distant hum of a passing car. The world had fallen quiet enough to hear hearts breaking.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “If you walk in right now, it can’t be like before. You don’t get to disappear again.”

“I won’t,” he said immediately, firmly. “I don’t want to live like that anymore. I thought cutting you out would make me feel in control again. But I lost more than I thought I could live without.”

Another step.

“I lost you.”

You stepped aside. And he walked in.

2:05 A.M.

The room was silent. Just the hum of the fridge and the rain beginning to whisper against the windows.

You stood in the kitchen, barely a foot apart.

He looked around like nothing had changed, and yet everything had. His eyes landed on the framed photo on the shelf—your birthday last year. You in his arms. His lips pressed to your temple.

“I saw that photo in my head every night,” he said softly. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

You leaned against the counter. “I told myself I hated you for leaving. But really, I just hated how empty everything felt without you.”

He moved closer. Gently. Slowly.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” he said. “I’ve done enough running for a hundred lifetimes. I want to stop. I want to stay.”

“Do you think you can?” you asked, voice trembling. “Stay, I mean?”

His hand brushed against yours on the counter. Warm. Solid. Real.

“I don’t know how to fix everything I broke,” he admitted. “But I’ll try every day for the rest of my life to make it right.”

A beat passed.

And then you reached out and touched his face.

His eyes fluttered shut. Like that single act undid every wall he’d ever built.

“I still love you,” you whispered. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

“I never stopped,” he breathed. “Even when I told myself I had to.”

You didn’t speak again. Not with words.

You kissed him like you were trying to stitch the cracks together. Like your lips could remind him what home felt like. And he held you like you were the only thing left tethering him to this world.

You didn’t go to bed that night. You curled up on the couch like you used to, legs tangled, his head buried against your shoulder, your fingers in his hair.

And when you finally slept, it was the first time in months you didn’t wake up crying.

Later, he whispered into your neck:

“It’s a quarter after one. I’m all alone and I need you now.”

You smiled sadly, sleep heavy on your eyelids.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

#sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan x you #marvel #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes angst

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 10 hours ago

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Welcome to Beast's Party

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

In a guest room at the castle, an unusual mix of princes and one official were holding a meeting.

Clavis: "I want to throw a party to thank Emma for always working so hard."

Clavis: "The reason I called you all here is to invite you to help me plan that party."

Keith: "I think it's a great idea! I'm in—let's get started right away!"

Sariel: "I didn't expect such a reasonable suggestion from you. I'm in as well."

Kagari: "If we're throwing a party, we can't forget a mountain of dorayaki. It's a tradition in Kogyoku."

Keith: "Kagari, you know you shouldn't lie, right?"

Clavis: "Thank you, everyone, for expressing your agreement in your own unique ways."

Clavis: "But a plain, ordinary party wouldn't be any fun, so I've come up with the perfect entertainment."

Keith: "Can I take it back and think it over?"

Sariel: "This discussion is over."

Kagari: "I've never been on the performing side before, so let's hear it."

Clavis: "Thanks again for your three very unique responses. Now, back to the topic at hand."

Clavis: "We'll write a romance story together and perform it as a play!"

Clavis: "If anyone refuses, the party will consist solely of weird-colored dishes, and traps will be set up throughout the castle."

Keith: "You really moved straight into the threats there, Clavis."

Sariel: "I can sense a long history of rejected ideas behind this."

Kagari: "Is it because the princess likes reading romance stories?"

Clavis: "Exactly. Both writing the story and performing it are all for Emma."

Clavis: "This is probably a billion times more sensible than my usual proposals."

Sariel: "Not something to brag about, but you're not wrong."

Sariel: "Prince Keith, Prince Kagari, what do you think?"

Keith: "I was a little wary at first, but after hearing the plan, I think it's brilliant."

Kagari: "I'm in too. I've never done this before, but leave it to me. So, what kind of story will it be?"

Kagari: "How about a tale of a dorayaki seller and a samurai? A bloody feud between red bean paste lovers and smooth bean paste lovers."

Sariel: "I'd love to hear how that turns into a romance."

Clavis: "Unique, but a bit too niche."

Clavis: "How about this: A prince is turned into a clay figurine by an evil witch. He goes on a journey and falls in love with a woman he meets. Then, when they share a true love's kiss, she also turns into a clay figurine, and they live happily ever after."

Keith: "Everyone defines happiness differently, but wouldn't this just make Emma cry?"

Sariel: "Rejected. That ending is straight-up horror."

Kagari: "I think it's interesting, though—a love story between clay figurines."

Keith: "They're human! Don't let him mislead you!"

Clavis: "It seems the world isn't ready for it yet. I'll save it for my next life."

Clavis: "Keith, let's hear what kind of story you'd come up with."

Keith: "Alright."

Keith: "How about this: A fairy falls in love with a prince, makes a deal with a witch to trade her voice for a human form, and sets off to confess her feelings."

Keith: "But halfway through, her true identity as a fairy is discovered. She makes another deal with the witch—this time giving up her ears to turn back time to before she was discovered."

Sariel: "This fairy is taking on way too much loss. I'd be seriously worried she's the kind who easily falls for scams."

Kagari: "Keith, are you into tragic love stories?"

Keith: "Not usually, but maybe this time I am."

Clavis: "That one would make Emma cry, too. Next—Sariel."

Sariel: "A prince and a princess from enemy nations fall in love, but are torn apart by war only to be reunited in their next life. How's that?"

Clavis: "Bittersweet, but it ends on a happy note. Annoyingly enough, it's not bad."

Kagari: "Clavis, we're supposed to act out the play ourselves, right?"

Clavis: "Of course. I told you—we'll write a romance story and perform it as a play with this group."

Kagari: "So four guys are going to throw their whole bodies into acting out a love story?"

Clavis: "…………."

Keith: "……………"

Sariel: "………….."

Keith: "This is starting to sound like a punishment game—for both the actors and the audience."

Sariel: "Even imagining it makes my stomach churn."

Clavis: "I can already picture the forced smile on Emma's face. No, this might actually damage my mental state."

Kagari: "In that case, why don't we use that for the play instead?"

Moments later...

Clavis: "Puppets. That's a great idea—this way, even with just four of us, we can still put on a romance play."

Sariel: "Still, how did you manage to prepare such intricate puppets in less than a day?"

Kagari: "I made them."

Sariel: "You made them? I must say, I'm impressed by your craftsmanship."

Kagari: "Feel free to keep the praise coming."

Kagari: "This actually takes me back. When I was a kid, I used to make these for fun."

Keith: "Whoa, they move so delicately—like they're actually alive. I could watch this forever."

Kagari: "Seriously, don't hold back on the praise."

Kagari: "Clavis, do you have the script ready?"

Clavis: "Of course. I pieced it together from all the story ideas you suggested."

Keith: "Wait, seriously? That was fast."

Clavis: "I used to write stories for my younger brothers. This was nothing."

Keith: "I used to read stories to my little sister, but I was never good at writing them. You're amazing, Clavis."

Sariel: "Oh? The roles are already assigned, too. How efficient."

Clavis: "Everyone got your puppets? Then let's begin the rehearsal!"

[The Rehearsal Begins]

Cast:

A noble lady on the brink of ruin – Kagari

A pleasure-loving prince – Clavis

The prince's trusted retainer – Sariel

The noble lady's personal butler – Keith

Prince: "It's been a long journey. I'm finally about to see the legendary treasure with my own eyes. Just you wait!" Prince: "Huh? I sense someone nearby. Who's there?" Noblewoman: "Oh my, what a handsome gentleman. Is this love at first sight? May I ask your name?" Loyal Butler: "Milady, this is the 101st time you've fallen in love at first sight. Please show some restraint." Prince: "What perfect timing. Could this meeting have been fate?" Prince: "Do you know of the legendary treasure—the winged clay figurine? I came here to obtain it." Noblewoman: "It's in our barn." Prince: "I love you. Let's get married right now." Noblewoman: "Yes! I've finally escaped ruin!" Prince's Retainer: "Prince! I've found you!" Prince: "Oops, I've been found. I thought I had sneaked out of the castle unnoticed." Prince's Retainer: "Enough! A wicked prince like you must DIE!!" Prince: "Ugh…"

Keith: "Okay, maybe let's pause for a second."

Kagari: "The prince just got stabbed by his retainer."

Keith: "There's way too much going on right from the start. My brain can't keep up. What did we just watch?"

Sariel: "This is suspense disguised as a love story. Emma's going to cry."

Clavis: "Because of your terrifyingly convincing performance."

Sariel: "It was strange from the get-go. It felt like the prince was written specifically for you, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "Because he was."

Clavis: "Kagari's completely flat delivery really highlighted the contrast with the prince's energy. Well done."

Kagari: "My performance was top-tier. Leave the noble lady role to me."

Keith: "Oh, so the retainer stabbed the prince because he was actually an assassin? Yeah, it is a suspense story."

Sariel: "The noblewoman's butler is actually the prince's half-brother. This isn't a romance anymore, is it?"

Clavis: "But aren't you just a little curious about how it ends?"

Keith: "W-Well, yeah. I guess with so much to comment on, it's kind of intriguing."

Kagari: "Who knows? Maybe the princess is actually into this kind of plot."

Sariel: "That's possible. She does love immersing herself in stories regardless of the genre."

Kagari: "Clavis, let's run it from the top. This time, I want to check how the puppets move."

Clavis: "Of course. You and I have the most scenes together, after all—let's take our time and polish it to perfection."

Clavis: "I'm sure the quality of the performance will move Emma to tears."

Kagari: "I want to see that."

Clavis: "Then we'll keep practicing until it's flawless!"

Sariel & Keith: "…………"

Sariel: "There's a lot I want to say about the script, but I don't want to kill his momentum."

Keith: "Yeah. Seeing them so fired up kind of makes me want to try even harder, too."

Keith: "After all, we all want to make Emma smile."

Sariel: "Just this once, I'll turn a blind eye to how ridiculous the plot is and join the rehearsal."

Keith: "You're pretty soft on Clavis, Sariel."

Sariel: "A leftover habit from when I used to be his tutor, perhaps."

→ Silvio, Azel, Yves, Leon's side

#ikepri translations #ikepri jp #ikepri #ikepri kagari #ikepri keith #ikepri clavis #cybird #ikemen prince

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scary-grace · 16 hours ago

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 28) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Chapter 28

When you wake up, you’re on a gurney, being moved through the halls of UA. Your hands aren’t cuffed or tied to the bed, but when you try to sit up, someone’s hand descends on your shoulder and pushes you firmly down. “You went into minor cardiac arrest,” an unfamiliar voice says, and when you glance in its direction, you find UA’s Recovery Girl motoring along at your side. “Since we don’t know the origin of your heart condition, we have to proceed under the assumption that exertion is a factor.”

You had a heart attack? Whatever happened to Tenko, it must have been bad – and he must be really far away from you right now, because even lying still, your body’s under strain. “Where are we going?”

“A strategy meeting.” Recovery Girl doesn’t look at you. She keeps walking, staring straight ahead. “That’s all I know.”

The rest of the journey passes in silence. You don’t recognize the part of UA you’re moving through, or the door that opens to admit you, but once you’re inside, you recognize nearly every person who’s already in the room. Mitsuko and Ryuhei. Manami. A boy you recognize as Endeavor’s youngest son. Uraraka Ochako, hero name Uravity. Kurogiri, or Shirakumo, whichever of them is in charge of the body at this point. All Might and Midoriya. Some guy you don’t recognize with a nine o’clock shadow and a police badge pinned to his shirt. And in a chair next to Kurogiri, arms crossed over his chest with an eyepatch over one eye and a bandaged stum for a right hand, sits Eraserhead.

You really don’t know what you’re looking at. “Um –”

“Saintess, as requested,” Recovery Girl says to All Might. She adjusts your bed to sit you up, then steps through the door after you and shuts it behind her. “I’ll remain here, in case she crashes again.”

“Crashes?” Mitsuko repeats. “What the hell have you people been doing to her?”

“Keeping her alive,” Recovery Girl says, not a little frostily. “Between her last medical checkup and when she was taken into custody, Saintess developed a heart condition.”

“Really?” Manami’s staring hard at you, and you stare back, willing her to keep quiet. You never told Mitsuko or Ryuhei about your quirk, which means that Manami’s the only one here who could spill the beans. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Once we figure out what’s causing it, yes.” Recovery Girl glances briefly at you, then back to All Might. “Perhaps you’d finally like to tell me what this is about.”

“Yes,” All Might says at once. “As you know, the Hero Public Safety Commission was one of the first organizations to be targeted by the Paranormal Liberation Front.”

After what the HPSC did to Kazuo, you’re not shedding any tears over whatever Re-Destro and the others did to them. But Midoriya and All Might are looking at you like it means something, and you don’t have a clue. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters, because it means nobody’s officially in charge of the heroes right now,” Midoriya says. “We’re all trying to work together when we can, but Shigaraki has a quirk that messes with communications equipment –”

“Radio Waves.”

“Yeah, that one. So it’s hard,” Midoriya says. “There’s not really a strategy right now. We’re all just kind of –”

“Midoriya, do you think before you talk?” Eraserhead interrupts sharply. “That’s not the kind of information you should share with your enemy.”

“No offense, but they kind of already know,” Ryuhei says, and Eraserhead turns to glare at him. Ryuhei stares back, unfazed, and you spend a ridiculous second wondering what would happen if Eraserhead tried to use his quirk on someone whose quirk automatically bounces things back. “Anybody who watches you guys knows you’re not operating as a group. Not like her boyfriend’s gang of crazies is.”

“That is true,” All Might agrees hastily. “The point young Midoriya and I were trying to make is that the lack of centralized authority allows us to take actions that might be – er, frowned upon by a governing body like the HPSC.”

“That’s why I’m here,” the police officer says. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet. “I’ve talked over the plan, and in my capacity as law enforcement, I’m sanctioning it.”

“It’s insane,” Eraserhead says flatly.

“It’s harm reduction,” the officer retorts. “There are too many lives at stake. Let’s start with what we know.”

It’s quiet for a second. Then Uraraka speaks up. “So, um – I talked to Toga –”

“Is she okay?” you demand at once. Uraraka startles. “I’m sorry. I just – is she okay?”

“Um, it kind of depends. On what counts as okay,” Uraraka says. Her eyes are haunted. “According to her, she dropped off the radar on Shigaraki’s orders.”

“Are you sure it was Shigaraki and not All For One?”

“Yeah. She said she can tell,” Uraraka says miserably. “She argued with All For One about something while he was in charge, and the next time Shigaraki got control, he told her to run. He gave her an extra quirk, too – Warp. That’s how she’s been staying ahead of everyone.”

Tomura gave Warp away? Why? “She says it’s not good with them,” Uraraka continues. “All For One hurts Tomura’s body on purpose. Bad, sometimes. She doesn’t know why. And when people try to stop All For One – us, Liberation warriors, anybody – he does awful things to them. And he always takes their quirks, even if he says they’re useless.”

You wait for her to say more, but she looks away, her mouth turning down at the corners. Endeavor’s son speaks up. “My sister and brother – and my mom – they found a way to get to my oldest brother,” he says. “Touya said that people inside the PLF are giving advanced warnings of the attacks to whichever heroes they can get ahold of. When the warnings are inaccurate, it’s because All For One changes the target at the last minute.”

“Why did your brother leave?” the police officer asks Endeavor’s son. “Was he also ordered to do so by Shigaraki?”

Endeavor’s son shakes his head. “He left on his own. That’s why he didn’t get an extra quirk.”

You wonder who his brother is, but only for a split second. Once it occurs to you, you’re both floored and completely unsurprised. “Your brother’s Dabi?”

Endeavor’s son nods. No wonder Dabi told you to stay away from Endeavor with the quirk-canceling bullets. His mission this whole time was just to screw over his family? You thought it was actually something important, and hysterical laughter begins to bubble up in your throat. All Might is questioning Endeavor’s son. “Did Dabi leave before or after Toga departed?”

“After,” Endeavor’s son says. “Toga didn’t leave until after what happened with Twice.”

Your stomach drops. You knew he was missing, but Uraraka hadn’t talked to Toga yet. What if something worse happened? “What happened to Twice?”

“He lost his quirk,” Kurogiri says. “We don’t know how.”

“All For One – or Tomura –”

“If they had it, they’d have been using it,” Eraserhead says shortly. “Twice’s quirk is gone, and Twice himself has vanished. He hasn’t been seen in weeks.”

He hasn’t been seen. Toga hadn’t been seen, either, and Uraraka found her. Dabi’s siblings were able to track him down. Twice could still be out there, still be alive – and quirkless? That’s the part you can’t wrap your head around. “Whatever the reason, it has become unsafe for the original members of the League to remain at Shigaraki’s side,” Kurogiri says. “Although their departures may not have been at All For One’s behest, they certainly serve his purposes.”

“Kurogiri thinks – and we agree – that All For One is trying to take away the people Shigaraki is fighting for,” Midoriya says. “So Shigaraki won’t have a reason to fight him any longer.”

“Then you guys really fucked up,” Mitsuko says, which lands about how you’d expect it to with this crowd. “Taking away his friends is what’s making him insane? How about murdering his goddamn girlfriend? You got us all killed the second you decided to pretend she was dead!”

“She’s been good for Tomura ever since he found her,” Kurogiri says, except he sounds like Shirakumo now. “It’s – I mean, you guys wouldn’t get it, but it’s kind of sweet. She’s been around longer than the League has. It always seemed like she calmed him down.”

Uraraka nods. “That’s what Toga said, too.”

“And it aligns with the other reports we’ve collected,” All Might says. “Which is why we are going to give her back.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from at least a few people. It sounds like Eraserhead is choking on his own spit. “You’re going to – what?”

“We’ll leak information that a high-value prisoner is being transferred,” the police officer says, like Eraserhead didn’t speak up at all. “That information needs to get to Re-Destro or to Spinner without reaching All For One. Do you think Toga would pass this information?”

He’s looking at Uraraka, who nods warily. “I think she would,” she says, “but I don’t want her to get hurt trying. I’ll ask. I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” All Might says. “If that fails, we’ll come up with another plan. Once the leak has occurred, we will attempt to move Saintess from UA to the stronghold at Shiketsu High. That will put her well within the PLF’s reach –”

“And put those responsible for the transfer at considerable risk,” Recovery Girl says, a sharp edge in her voice. “Just who are you planning to send? Haven’t we lost enough heroes already?”

“Um –” Manami actually puts her hand up, and All Might calls on her. “Maybe the PLF shouldn’t rescue her. Maybe we should do it?”

“We?”

“Me,” Manami says. “Gentle would help, too – he loves me, and she’s my cousin. And you –”

She’s looking at Ryuhei. “Yeah, I’m in,” Ryuhei says grimly. “Shigaraki knows me and Mitsuko. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that we’d try to save her from you all.”

“And if you’re the ones rescuing her, we can stage it, and nobody will have to get hurt!” Midoriya looks relieved. “You three – uh, four – you’ll really bring her to Shigaraki?”

“Yeah, we will. She didn’t have a heart condition when she was with him.” Mitsuko has a good poker face when she wants one, but she’s been death-glaring every single hero who’s opened their mouth. “She’s our friend. We’ll get it done.”

“It will be dangerous,” Eraserhead says flatly. “Shigaraki may be familiar with the three of you, but All For One is unpredictable. You’re civilians, without training in the use of your quirks for combat. Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

“Somebody has to take some risks. Things are going to shit out there,” Ryuhei says. He shrugs. “If this works, I want my record wiped.”

“Mine, too,” Manami chimes in. “And Gentle’s. We want to open a tea shop.”

All Might nods. “I believe we can arrange that,” he says. The police officer looks like he’s half-asleep, but when All Might asks him directly, he confirms it. “Now, Miss Inada – are there any requests you’d like to make?”

“I don’t have a record,” Mitsuko says. She points at you. “What about hers?”

“She hasn’t been charged.”

“Yeah, but she’s gonna be. If you all win, you’re going to hit her with –” Mitsuko glances at Eraserhead, then rattles them off. “Treason, conspiracy to commit treason, assault with a deadly weapon, unlawful possession of a deadly weapon, voluntary manslaughter, and whatever else you cook up for taking someone’s quirk. If she goes back there to help you out, All For One might kill her. What are you going to do for her?”

“Er –” All Might and Midoriya both glance at the police officer. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Work it out right now.” Mitsuko crosses her arms over her chest. “We’ll wait.”

You wouldn’t have thought to hedge your bets in case the heroes win. Mitsuko’s looking out for you, like she did way back when the two of you first met in middle school. All Might and the officer leave the room to talk, and the room falls into quiet, tense discussions. Kurogiri is talking to Eraserhead, and you pick up just enough from the conversation to realize that the people named Hizashi and Shouta are in fact Present Mic and Eraserhead, both of whom he’s known since high school. It’s beyond strange to think about Kurogiri befriending the two of them.

The conversation doesn’t sound too friendly, though. Kurogiri wants to go along with the students to hand you off, and Eraserhead is saying no. “You’re too great of a threat,” Eraserhead says shortly. “If All For One recaptured and reprogrammed you, our position would worsen dramatically. There’s considerably less risk in sending the villain.”

“I’m a villain,” Shirakumo says. “Is that the only reason?”

“No.” Eraser’s voice softens. “Yamada and I lost you once. We won’t let it happen twice.”

You want to keep eavesdropping on that, but Mitsuko and Ryuhei are on their way over, and you want to talk to them, too. “Since when do you have heart problems?” Ryuhei asks, keeping his voice low. “You look like shit.”

Manami’s come over, too. She has a notebook and she’s writing fast. It’s her quirk. It’s like mine but it costs her instead of him.

“You’re powering him up?” Mitsuko hisses at you. You shake your head. “Then what?”

Manami passes the notebook to you, and you write with a shaky hand. His healing factor. Ryuhei swears under his breath; Manami seizes your free hand in both of hers. The closer together we are, the less it costs me. If I’m far away –

“Then you have fucking heart attacks.” Mitsuko takes the notebook away from you midsentence. “Every time a hero blasts him. The sooner we get you out of here, the better.”

You couldn’t agree more, but not for the same reason. It doesn’t matter what happens to you, but you have to get back to Tenko. You have to help him shake off All For One again. In the silence that falls, a hand sneaks between Manami and Ryuhei to tap your shoulder. “Can I talk to you?” Uraraka asks. “Alone?”

You nod. Ryuhei and Manami duck out together. Mitsuko gives Uraraka a long stare, than glances at you and nods once before following them. Uraraka looks weirded out. “Does she hate me?”

“Her quirk lets her read people’s intentions,” you say. “She was checking to see what you had in mind.”

“Um –” Uraraka looks nervous. The hand that didn’t tap your shoulder is clenched into a fist at your side. “We met before, didn’t we? I helped you carry your boxes.”

“That was really nice of you.”

“I would never have thought you were a villain,” she mumbles. “You don’t look like one.”

“We don’t wear big signs that say “I’m evil” on them,” you say. Wherever Ryuhei and Mitsuko are, they’re close enough to eavesdrop, because you hear a familiar snicker. “I didn’t lie to you. I wanted to know if Eri was okay.”

Uraraka nods distractedly. “Himiko says you aren’t like the rest of them,” she says. She calls Toga by her surname when she’s talking to the others, but her given name talking to you. Maybe Toga’s chances are a little better than you thought. “She gave me this.”

She opens her hand, and you see your locket resting in her palm. Your throat goes tight. “She says he gave it to her when she left. To keep it safe,” Uraraka continues. “When she found out you were alive, she made me take it. Since it’s yours.”

You lift it carefully out of her hand. It looks kind of beaten up, but when you open it, it swings forward on the hinges just like it’s supposed to. There’s the photo of Tenko that’s been in there for more than a decade, one of the only pieces left of your best friend. And on the other side, which was empty before, there’s a photo of Tomura.

You don’t know who took it, or how Toga got ahold of it, but you know when it’s from – the joint birthday party, because Tomura’s hair is still wet from the fluid in the stasis capsule and because he looks healthy. And happy. He looks truly, honestly happy, just like he does in the photo from when he was Tenko and no one else.

You’re not going to cry. You’re done crying for possibly the rest of your life. “Thank you,” you say to Uraraka, and mean it. “Toga – is she really okay? Did anything happen to her before she left?”

“I don’t know,” Uraraka says. You fasten the locket back around her neck. “She says you guys are her family, and All For One is hurting her family. But she doesn’t know how to – cut him – without hurting Shigaraki, too.”

It’s so easy to imagine Toga saying it. You can hear her voice, exactly as it would sound, except she wouldn’t call him Shigaraki – she’d call him Tomura-kun, like she always has. The League is her family, and All For One’s taking her family away. It’s not just Tomura he’s hurting. It’s all of you. And if you can get back to him – if you can help him resist – the PLF still has the upper hand against the heroes. If Tomura can come back to himself, he’s going to win the war.

For the first time it dawns on you the kind of risk these few heroes are taking. They’re willing to face Tomura at his full powers, Tomura who as far as they know wants nothing but total destruction, rather than let All For One continue to control him. Does Midoriya think that taking away All For One’s influence will save Tomura? What does saving Tomura even mean to him? You should probably figure that out, sometime before they let you go.

The door opens, and All Might steps back through, followed by the police officer. “Since you’re aiding what’s left of the government, we’ll drop the treason charges,” the officer says. “The manslaughter charge is hearsay at this point – we haven’t had any chance to investigate, and the evidence is gone. There are too many witnesses to drop the weapons charges.”

The charges they’re dropping are the most serious ones. You’ll take the hit on the weapons. You did shoot people with quirk-canceling bullets, and you did it unprovoked. And you’re not sorry. “However,” the officer continues, “should you decide to help restore the quirks you destroyed, we’ll consider dropping those charges, too. Do we have a deal?”

You’d say you need time to think it over, but there’s not much to think over, and you need to get back to Tomura fast. Still, there’s one person you refuse to leave behind in this. One person who gave up everything helping you. “Kiyohara Kazuo,” you say. “He gets the same stuff as we do.”

“Agreed.”

It won’t matter much. Once Tomura wins, Kazuo will be free, just like Manami and your friends. “Everyone rest up tonight,” All Might instructs. “Regain as much of your strength as possible. We’ll begin the operation in –”

The officer’s phone buzzes, along with what sounds like every hero’s phone in the room. He yanks it out of his pocket, and as he reads the message, his face goes dead white. “Seikan is under attack.”

Eraserhead swears. “We’re out of time,” he says. “Todoroki, Uraraka – take the civilians and the criminal and plan the ambush. Midoriya, help Recovery Girl prep the villain for transport. All Might, find whoever’s in charge of comms and order them to leak the transfer. Hurry.”

You’re surprised to see Eraserhead bossing All Might around, but All Might hops to it. So does everyone else, flooding out the door. Even Kurogiri gets swept up in the rush. It’s just you and Recovery Girl and Midoriya left, and Recovery Girl speaks quickly, tersely. “I hope at least one of you knows CPR. If she arrests again, you’ll need to keep her blood circulating until the defibrillator is charged. I’ll hook her up to a portable heart monitor as well as a pulse oximeter. Both of those should tell you if trouble’s on the way.”

“She’s a nurse, right? She can warn us, too.”

“Assuming she’s awake. So far, the course of events includes her falling unconscious before the trouble starts.”

They’re talking about you like you’re not there, and like it’s urgent. What could make things more urgent than usual in a war they’ve been losing since it started? You force yourself to sit up, right in the middle of their conversation. “What’s in Seikan?”

Midoriya and Recovery Girl trade a glance. “We can’t tell you that,” Midoriya states. “It’s –”

“No longer a secret,” Eraserhead says from the doorway. His face is grim. “It’s a black-site prison. Currently home to All For One.”

Everything is black and quiet inside the Maiden, and it would be a decent place for a nap if the space wasn’t so tight. You’re being moved horizontally, but you can’t turn over, or even move your arms from your sides. If you try to sit up, you hit your head instantly. You aren’t claustrophobic. You’ve never been claustrophobic. You were the kind of kid who’d wedge yourself into ridiculously tight spaces just to make sure you’d never lose at hide and seek. But after what’s already starting to feel like forever inside the Maiden, you’re well on your way to losing your mind.

“Hey, um – are you okay?” Uraraka’s voice is soft in your ear. They’ve got you on an earpiece, just like they’ve got you on a heart monitor. “Your heart rate is picking up. I don’t know what that means, but –”

“I’m good.” You force yourself to take deep breaths. “It’s just kind of small in here.”

“You know, there was a study done a few years ago arguing that transport in a Maiden qualifies as a form of torture,” Midoriya chips in from somewhere. “Tight spaces, low oxygen circulation –”

He keeps talking, but you tune him out, reminding yourself that he’s not some goofy kid. You might be allies right now in trying to break All For One’s control over Tenko, and he might have saved you after Hawks let you fall, but he still hates you for destroying his classmate’s quirk and putting his teacher in the position of choosing between his quirk and his right hand. They aren’t your friends. You’re going back to your friends. Your friends are going to save you from the heroes in a staged fight, and then you’re going straight back to the PLF, to Tenko. You have to get there before All For One does.

You’re surprised at how the heroes handled All For One. Given how completely they botched other parts of the war, you wouldn’t have guessed that they’d nail it, but they synced their attack on the PLF headquarters with a transfer out of Tartarus for All For One, taking him to a smaller, less well known prison with even higher levels of security. Tartarus was always going to be a PLF target. Apparently it was the first place they hit, and they’ve kept looking, destroying prison after prison, burning resources and burning time. You have a feeling that the split in the PLF’s objectives and forces is what’s kept the heroes going this long.

But that’s over now. They’ve found the prison where All For One’s being kept, and although the heroes are probably putting up a serious fight, the Seikan prison’s fall is inevitable. Tomura’s not the one leading the attack – it’s Gigantomachia, who’s been ordered to smash through everything in his path until he reaches All For One. The heroes think that reuniting Tomura and All For One in the flesh will cement All For One’s control over Tomura’s body, and you’re scared they might be right. Unless you can get there first. Unless you and Spinner can help Tomura fight back.

The only piece of reassurance you have is that there’s no extra strain on your body, which means Tomura isn’t being hurt right now. Wherever he is, he’s safe enough. You keep taking deep breaths, trying to clear your mind. There’s a plan to get you back to his side. It’s the heroes’ plan, and it’s insane and desperate, but after everything you’ve seen in the past two years, you’re well aware that an insane and desperate plan can work a lot better than anyone would expect.

The heroes keep the channel open, and you hear the first warnings of the staged attack. La Brava and Gentle Criminal, assisted by two civilians with unspecified quirks, attempting to retrieve the prisoner. Nobody around here has a quirk that lets them pry things open, so they’ll need a key or passcode to get you out of the Maiden, and they’ll have to get it off of whoever has it. That’s the part you’re most worried about, the one that’s going to be hardest to explain if someone questions what’s happening here. Hero students are famously fanatical. There’s no way one of them would just give up the code.

Something thuds against the outer shell of the Maiden, and you startle, as much as it’s possible to startle in such a tight space. Then the door slides open, letting in hazy light that’s still too bright for you. You blink up through it and the face that swims into view is Manami’s. “I hacked the keypad,” she says. “Come on.”

You climb out of the Maiden unsteadily and find yourself in the middle of a wasteland. If it’s a city, you have no idea which one – you could be on the moon for all you know. You glance around and find the hero students, all restrained under what look like bubbles. “Gentle did that,” Manami says, more than a little proudly. “This way.”

“Hey,” Midoriya calls out from beneath one of the bubbles, his voice muffled. “If you’re going to take her away, take her medicine, too. She’s sick. Do you want her to die?”

Midoriya sounds pretty stilted, but you’ll give him credit for trying. Mitsuko snatches the box of medications, along with a file folder that probably has your medical records in it. “There. Happy now?”

“Hey. Do you think you can run?” Ryuhei asks you. “There’s a PLF scout nearby. If we get to them –”

Word will get back to Tomura, and he’ll know you’re on your way. “Yeah. I can run.”

“Oh, but why run when you can fly?” Gentle Criminal sweeps up along side you. Your first impression of your cousin’s boyfriend is “old”. Then again. her first impression of your boyfriend is probably going to be “crazy”. “Follow along, everyone! Step where I step!”

He’s creating elastic spots in the air, things for you all to jump on and bounce forward, but you’re all really bad at it. You especially. Gentle Criminal finally just grabs you out of the air. “Change of plans. We’ll clear this wreckage first, and then we’ll run.”

It’s a high jump over the wreckage, wreckage you realize isn’t a tipped-over skyscraper or a collapsed bridge – it’s a beached aircraft carrier. Is it even beached? What if this is a harbor or something? Or was a harbor before? You believed everyone when they said Japan was in ruins. Could Tomura really do something like this?

As soon as your feet are under you, you break into a run, your friends fanning out alongside you. “Up ahead,” Ryuhei says. You can see a figure moving quickly, scurrying from rock to rock in what you’re now really sure used to be a harbor. “Hey! You! we’ve got something for you!”

“What is it?” The voice sounds familiar to you, but you can’t quite place it. “I know you nabbed something off those little heroes, but – holy fuck, you’re alive!”

The scout disappears, then reappears suddenly, directly in front of you. If the quirk wasn’t enough to jog your memory, her face is – she’s Tesseract, a member of the PLF, with a quirk known as Seven Leagues that lets her travel short distances instantaneously. She’s grinning at you, a grin that you remember as sort of insane but looks more than a little relieved right now. “Oh man, the Grand Commander’s going to lose it when he sees you. ¥500 says he cries like a girl!”

“I’ll take that bet,” Ryuhei says, and Tesseract gives him a sly once-over. “Look, our containment on those heroes won’t hold forever. Are you going to get her out of here or what?”

“I can take you all with me if you want.” Tesseract’s chewing gum, and she blows an enormous bubble that somehow doesn’t pop in her face. “He’s gonna want to thank you personally for bringing back his boo!”

Ryuhei glances at you, and you shake your head. “I’ll make sure he knows who helped me. The others draw up alongside you, Mitsuko included, at which point you realize that she’s pulled off this whole operation in three-inch heels. “It’s not safe for you to go, unless you want to.”

“Works for me.” Ryuhei hugs you around the shoulders, and you manage an awkward one-armed hug in response. “Good luck out there.”

Mitsuko kisses you on the lips, just like last time. This time she hugs you too, and whispers a piece of advice before she pulls away. “I know you love him. If he hurts you, get the hell out of there.”

You nod, and she forces the file folder and medicine case into your hand. Gentle Criminal is kissing your other hand like the gentleman thief he supposedly is, and Manami’s up on her tiptoes to hug you. “Be careful,” she whispers.

“You too.” You hug her back, then turn to Tesseract. “I’m ready.”

“Good call on them clearing out,” Tesseract says. “I’ll tell you straight, Saintess. Where we’re headed might just be the most dangerous place in Japan. And these days that’s really saying something.”

You believe it. “Where are we right now?”

“Now?” Tesseract glances around as she ties your wrist to hers, using what you’re pretty sure is a shibari rope. “Yokohama Bay, baby. When this place went down, it went down hard.”

Your heart plummets. When Present Mic said that the PLF obliterated Yokohama, he wasn’t exaggerating. It’s not just the city that’s gone – it’s the bay too, and suddenly you understand why the heroes are taking this kind of risk. The country’s not just destabilized, not just at war. The ground beneath your feet is being altered for good. No wonder they’re desperate for this to end. Seeing what’s happening, you are too.

“All right, let’s go.” Tesseract spits out her gum on what used to be the seafloor and cracks her knuckles. “Breathe out –”

You breath out, and the world compresses sharply, crushing you even worse than the Maiden did. Then you’re free again – crushed – free – then crushed a third time. Tesseract’s quirk might be even more uncomfortable than the warp sludge. You use track of the number of jumps almost instantly, and all you’re conscious of is intense discomfort and the emptiness of your lungs.

“And breathe in,” Tesseract says, and suddenly you’re upright again, free again. She pulls the rope free from around your wrist. “Nice work, Saintess. Usually people puke when I do that.”

Growing up alongside the twins, you learned how to stop yourself in self-defense. You clench your jaw and breathe through your nose until the nausea fades. Then you take a look around, and the longer you look, the more confused you get. You’re inside a building, an enormous one – and a really fancy one. The floor under your feet is marble, and you see gilded edges flickering out at you from the shadows. “Where are we?”

“New HQ. Kind of a ghost town.” Tesseract marches up to a set of double doors – solid wood, beautifully carved – and bangs on them. “Hey, Spin-It-To-Win-It! I got something for you. Well, not for you. For the Grand Commander. But you’re the one who’s had to deal with him the most, so it’s kind of for you, too!”

She glances at you. “It’s been total sadboy hours while you’ve been gone. The only reason we haven’t all shot ourselves yet is because the other guy is worse.”

You don’t remember Tesseract being this off-the-wall, but you’ve been gone a little while. After a few seconds of banging, the door opens. “What?” Spinner hisses from inside. “He’s trying to focus! If they get back and he’s not ready –”

“I got you something that’s gonna make that a lot easier,” Tesseract interrupts. She shoves the door open at the same time as she beckons you forward. “Feast your eyes on –”

“Saintess?” Spinner’s eyes light up. He steps through the doors and comes straight to you for a hug. You hug him back, noticing as you do that he’s a lot bulkier than he was the last time you saw him. “I knew you were alive. I saw Midoriya catch you – where have you been? What happened?”

“I was in custody. We need to talk.” You glance sideways at Tesseract, too tired to be subtle. “Not here.”

“Nah, it’s chill! I’ve got a patrol to finish, anyway. Make sure you tell the Grand Commander who brought him back his girl!”

Tesseract vanishes with a pop. You look at Spinner. “Is it just me, or is she kind of –”

“Yeah. Not everybody takes the new quirks well.” Spinner’s face is grim. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

He leads you through the double doors, then stops just outside a smaller set. “This is, like, the best day and the worst day for you to come back,” he says. “All For One knows what you did.”

You knew it was likely, but you were still hoping it wasn’t true. Your stomach drops, worse than it did when you saw what happened to Yokohama Bay. “He has Shigaraki convinced that you’re dead,” Spinner continues, “but he knows you’re not, because he’s been using you to keep Shigaraki in line.”

“How?” you ask, puzzled. “If he thinks I’m dead –”

“It’s this sick what-if thing,” Spinner says. “If he makes Shigaraki hurt himself bad enough, it’ll kill you if you somehow made it out alive. He does it as a warning, if he’s in control and Shigaraki’s trying to break out.”

You tried to keep that part of your quirk from Tomura, from everyone, but at least one other person knew. The doctor wouldn’t have hesitated to tell All For One everything. All those times your heart’s started to fail, it hasn’t been heroes attacking – it’s been All For One, forcing Tomura to damage his own body. You didn’t need more reasons to hate All For One, but this makes it worse. And at the same time, it makes you sick to think about – even with a quirk that heals him, you’re still Tomura’s greatest weakness.

You and the rest of the League. You turn to Spinner. “What about the others?”

“Dabi booked it after Kyoto. When All For One killed Endeavor he blew a fuse,” Spinner says, while you reel from the fact that the Number One hero is dead, has been dead for weeks. “He went after All For One, but Shigaraki’s body is basically unkillable, and when it didn’t work he ran. Smartest thing to do.”

“I know Toga left,” you say. “What happened to Twice? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive. Hiding,” Spinner says. “Smartest thing to do, after we destroyed his quirk.”

“What?”

“He wouldn’t use it how All For One wanted him to, so All For One was going to take it. Twice stabbed himself with one of your deleter rounds, and Shigaraki got control back over his body long enough for Twice to run,” Spinner says. You feel hollow. “He’s alive. And Toga’s okay?”

“I think so,” you say. “That’s what Uraraka said.”

“The heroes?” Spinner looks surprised. “Your turn to talk. How did you get out of there?”

You have an explanation, but you don’t want to go through it multiple times. And you want to see Tomura, need to see him. You glance towards the smaller set of doors, and Spinner startles, nods. “Right. Yeah. You can explain in there.”

You were worried you’d never see Tomura again, and now you’re within seconds of being close enough to touch. Your heart stutters in your chest in a way that’s got nothing to do with your quirk at the thought. You’re going to see him again, but you’ve let him down – you thought you protected him from All For One by destroying the original quirk, but you were wrong, and he let All For One in because of what you let happened when Hawks captured you. It's not hard to imagine that he’ll be angry with you. That he’ll blame you. He’d be right to.

There’s only one way to find out, and if he’s angry at you, at least you’ll be looking at him, seeing him one more time. You take a deep breath that catches almost painfully, and you push open the doors.

<- Chapter 27

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#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shimura tenko x reader #shimura tenko x you #tenko shimura x reader #tenko shimura x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #please hold

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rahuratna · 3 days ago

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Sunshine of your Love

Synopsis: A cold rainy evening, and your longing for Taishiro reaches a fever pitch. [Fat Gum/Taishiro Toyomitsu x Reader]

Rating: M

Warnings: references to explicit sex

I've been recovering from surgery and writing for this man always makes me feel better, even if I'm drugged out of my mind, lol. Bear with me and my random fixations, friends.

When it rains like this, you think of him.

There is power in white lighting, in the orchestrated swell of thunder that rides in on its wake.

It reminds you of the way he moves, parting waves of people with his considerable girth, a bright yellow buoy carried by the shift of waves.

He'd never done well in contained settings, not with his loud voice, the boisterous mannerisms, the curve of his grin threatening to split the serious air of any gathering. You'd always wondered when he'd learned to feel comfortable with taking up that space, unabashed, to plant the flag of his presence and watch it unfurl with that steadfast pride he was known for.

It was what had drawn you to him, a remora snatching at fleshy scraps.

You're still not sure what power you hold over him. It is nice, though, to gain the occasional reminder.

On evenings like this, when the air itself seems magnetized by the faint traces of unspoken words, of subtlety lost to heavy laughter and an all-too-wholesome public persona, you wish for him with an intensity that burns away time.

You know what his career demands; the patrols, the collaborations, the appearances, the red tape over shiny new doorways, gossamer ribbons over hard agreements. It's all part of the job, and he takes it in his stride. He'd built his agency from the ground up, and the humble facade, the black mask over round, fresh-faced reliability, has become a symbol that remains ingrained in most minds.

There are those, like you, who've seen what his work truly requires, though.

You've watched him plan the downfall of drug cartels with meticulous precision, the way his eyes scan a room and immediately draw up a mental list of all capabilities, the way he assigns roles with an ease that stems from years of leading missions, the calm and patience he exercises on stakeouts because he knows full well what rushing into things will achieve.

You've seen the complex charts of calorie intake he consults in order to be prepared for larger operations. You've watched him type painstaking emails as he replies to the messages he receives from public servers and supporters. You've seen him in shorts and vest, dabbing perspiration from his neck with an old t-shirt, steadily losing mass through the day as he spent hours painting and renovating the headquarters in his signature colours.

It still surprised you, that with the time and effort he'd put into all his endeavors, that he had any time to spare for his personal affairs. As much as Taishiro was one to tread on the lighter side of life, he took his responsibilities very seriously.

It was why, when you first encountered him, and felt that burgeoning attraction rise like some kind of irrepressible sea beast, you'd done your best to eliminate it.

Quash it, stow it, fling it out the airlock into the depths of space, where it truly belonged.

Your own research career left little time for such things, to be honest.

But then, you'd been assigned to assist him directly and you were forced to re-evaluate everything you knew about tamping down the roiling waters of simple human magnetism.

What was it about him that drew you in so helplessly?

Maybe it was the way he eyed everyone around him (including you) with those golden eyes that perceived so much, sunshine molded to a razor that split the world asunder. Maybe it was the spread of his broad shoulders, so easily dwarfing everything in a room. Maybe it was the smell of him, sweat, sugar and honey-glaze after an afternoon in the summer, or the daffodil burst of his soft, soft hair, or the way he laughed with a motion that rippled through his entire form.

It could have been the touch of those heavy hands, calloused, a worker's roughened grip, sometimes slightly sticky with whatever he'd eaten. You'd come to know those hands, their hot, probing grasp, the way they'd cut through the air when he described something animatedly, the gentle circling of a child's ankle who had insisted on climbing him like a tree, the lackadaisical flip of thick fingers through the pages of a report and the comforting slap of his large palm across your back for a job well done.

Maybe that was it, yes. His touch, and the way it had changed over time.

You were so aware of his every motion in your presence that it didn't escape your notice when he started to touch you less.

You could tell something had changed when he no longer clapped you on the back during a hearty laugh, when his eyes tracked your form when he thought you weren't looking, when he started to leave his favourite treats behind on your desk 'by accident', when his hunger spilled over into that molten gaze in ways that made your limbs feel like they were shifting through honey.

His touch became rare, but on the occasions he (or you) couldn't resist little forms of contact, his fingers would trace the line of your body, almost unconsciously. He seemed to have memorized the curve of your spine, the hollow of your waist when he stood close to you. The space between your bodies seemed to enclose you both in increasing claustrophobia, and yet, was never quite close enough.

You had become aware of his breath on the back of your neck when he leaned in to pore over schematics with you, of the rough, gentle graze of his stubble over your cheek when he turned his head (accidental), the way his voice took on a new, deeper, husky sweetness when he called you his darling, his sweetheart, his little bird.

He was strong, passionate, driven, a man who played the comforting fortress, all while wrapping you in the increasingly easy charm he didn't even seem to know he possessed.

He compelled your thoughts on rainy evenings like this, all because you were helpless to the courtship unfurling in all its honest primacy between the two of you.

In the sanctity of your home, far from the flash of intrusive cameras, the shuffle of booted feet and the sirens that blare through city streets at night, he finds a haven in you.

His touch is no longer uncertain, feeling along the uncertain edges of what is acceptable to the both of you.

He knows what you want, and he gives it to you with all the grace you never knew his eight foot frame could contain.

Taiahiro knows how much you love his large hands tracing your form fully, his mouth latched to your shoulder, his hot breath ghosting along your collarbones. He knows how much you love the metallic zing of his zipper coming undone, the heat of the fire on both of you. He knows how much you long for the feel of his body on yours, the fine golden hairs raising under your fingertips.

On rainy days like this one, he knows how you wait for him, to mop up the water from his hair with a towel, the way the moisture from his skin transfers to yours as he presses you against him, no clothes forming unnecessary barriers.

Taishiro loves when your body arches and bends for him, when your fingers leave scarlet traces down his back and shoulders, when your teeth sink into his bicep and you slap and clutch at his chest. He loves how you cry and writhe and beg him to stop, stop, no keep going as he grinds and swivels in breathtaking abandon against and inside you.

He knows how the evening swallows your gasps and his pants, the endless dive of lovemaking into a hazy afternoon sea, your entwined fingers reaching for the distant shore of sanity that neither of you really want to reach.

Taishiro knows how much you want, want, want, an endless break of your body's waves on the reef of his desire.

He knows he can make you come endlessly, one sobbing breath bleeding into another as he loves you, moves you, presses you face-first into the bed sheets. He knows that your appetite for him is ceaseless, for the swell of his stomach against yours, the creak of the bed beneath his weight, the trembling in your thighs around his waist as he eases himself deeper, earning every broken cry from your lips.

You know that it's only over when you've both been thoroughly satiated, which takes a considerable time, considering both your appetites.

He is yours, and you, his. The simplicity of it is delineated, traced out in the clear lines of the window frame that reveal the storm raging outside.

In here, you give him everything of yourself, a surrender of all that is you. How can you provide anything else? When it comes to him, you're not sure how to give any less.

An hour has passed, and the rain shows no sign of letting up.

A key slots into the latch and the door swings open, somewhere downstairs. His voice ascends to you, a convection current in a pre-warmed oven.

"Sweetheart, you up?"

"Here," you call down to him. "Leave your wet clothes in the hamper. I've run you a bath."

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Say, you got towels up there, or you need me to bring up some - "

The words peter out in his throat, as he spies you, where you await him at the top of the stairs. You are dressed in one of his large shirts, the material thinned with age, the outline of your breasts making it clear that you aren't wearing anything beneath. One of your hands traces up your inner thigh, lifting the hem, moving up, up, to where you want him the most.

He is silent now, remnants of the downpour outside dripping from his golden hair to the mat below, one of his shoes half off.

Then his foot is on the first stair, and afterwards, in seemingly no time at all, he is beside you.

Thunder cracks a heavenly whip, loud and with no sign of easing off. You don't look away from him.

"Sounds like the storm's going to go on for a while."

He breathes his answer out, reverent, heat washing over your throat.

"Sure hope it does, sweetheart."

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dokidokistart · 9 months ago

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link to the store here

#boost is appreciated guys #it's been hard to work with all the moving from one side of the world to the other #and the block is been blocking #nothing that i could do about it honestly #frustrating nonetheless #i feel like that is going to be over soon and i'll be back at it #anyway will be happy to ship some orders again〜❤️#shop tag

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fromdove · 2 months ago

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THINGS YOU DO THAT THE BATBOYS FIND ATTRACTIVE ! batboys x reader

“God, you’re impossible. And I’m so screwed, because I think I’d let you ruin me.”

— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts in jasons & bruces part (maybe dick too??)

∿　　 . `💭` ㆍ

JASON TODD

the way you hold eye contact when you're angry

It started as a slow simmer—your voice, low and clipped, each word deliberate, sharp enough to slice through the heavy Gotham air. Jason wasn’t even sure what the hell you were mad about anymore. The way your eyes were locked on his, unwavering, lit from within by something electric—it drowned out everything else.

You stood across the room, spine straight, chest rising with each measured breath. Not yelling. Not crying. Just...burning. And looking at him.

There was something about that. The way you didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Like you could take every jagged, bloodstained part of him and still meet him dead-on, like you’d never blink first. It made his heart twist in his chest, something old and animal uncoiling inside him. He’d faced down murderers, monsters, lowlife scumbags—but the fury in your gaze made his throat go dry. Not because he feared it. Because he wanted to touch it. touch you.

You took a step forward, the kind that didn’t echo but reverberated, and that subtle movement—how your hands stayed relaxed at your sides, how your mouth didn’t tremble when you spoke—undid him.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Jason.”

There was a beat. One taut, blistering moment where the only thing louder than your breath was the pounding in his ears.

And then he laughed. Just a breath of it, almost involuntary. The kind of laugh you get when something hurts and turns you on at the same time. He didn’t even mean to. It just escaped him.

You frowned, and that only made it worse. He wanted to bite your lip just to see if your mouth would still taste like fire when it was pressed against his. He wanted to grab your face and kiss you so hard it left bruises.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful when you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, almost reverent.

You blinked at that—but didn’t back down. And the way your stare softened just a fraction, that flicker of confusion folding into resolve again... yeah. That did it. That almost ended him right then and there.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a lit fuse. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch, to pull, to anchor.

“You gonna hit me?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous and barely hanging on.

You tilted your chin up. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”

God. That. That right there. The grit in your voice. He could live off that kind of defiance. He wanted to.

Jason had never been good at softness. He didn’t know what to do with people who crumbled. But you—? You held his gaze like a storm, like a girl who could kill him with her silence, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was beg for a second chance to make you smile again.

Not because he deserved it. Because he’d die trying to.

DICK GRAYSON

the way you reach for him in your sleep

It starts small. Always does. You shift once, twice—barely there. Then your hand moves, unthinking. Across sheets warm with your shared heat, it searches.

You don’t know you're doing it. That’s what makes it criminal. You’re not asking to be loved in that moment. You’re assuming it. Trusting the world to place him where he belongs: next to you.

And Dick—poor, cursed Dick—is already awake.

He lies still, pretending. Letting you find him. Every nerve is alight, tuned to the sound of your breath, the whisper of cotton as your wrist brushes the inside of his arm. Then—finally—your hand finds his chest, right over the scar where a blade once tried to make him quiet forever.

Your fingers twitch. Then still. Then curl.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

He’s not thinking about villains or masks or the weight of his last name. He’s not worried about who’s watching, or whether he’s enough. He’s just a man now.

A man undone by the way you, unconscious and vulnerable, reach for him like he’s home. Like your body knows him, wants him, chooses him—without performance, without pride.

And it’s just so fucking sweet. The sweetness that life had never thought him deserving of—never bothered to offer, as if the universe had forgotten him in some quiet corner—was suddenly there, in you. And only then did he realize what he had been starved of.

There’s something maddening about your vulnerability—how you press against him in sleep, skin warm and scent-heavy, mouth parted just slightly. Innocent, yes. But not harmless.

Not to him.

He could write an entire religion based on the way your breath hitches when his hand covers yours. He could burn entire cities if someone tried to pull you away while you sleep.

Because this—this secret, sacred moment where you choose him without knowing— is the kind of thing he’s never let himself want.

But now that he’s had it, he knows.

He’ll want it forever.

BRUCE WAYNE

the way you tilt your chin when you're defiant

It is the tiniest gesture—a tilt of the chin, so slight it might pass for nothing at all. But to him? It is semaphore, a flare in the dusk, a gauntlet tossed with exquisite subtlety.

You do it when you disagree. Not with loud words or theatrics. No. You just raise your chin. Barely. As if your body is saying, “I’m not afraid of you.”“I’ll meet you there, if you push.”

And God help him, he wants to push.

You do this thing where your jaw tightens just slightly, where your eyes go sharp and patient at the same time—like you’ve already calculated the cost of standing your ground and decided to pay it anyway.

You look… royal. As though Gotham’s grime never dared graze your skin. Like tragedy tried and failed. Like you’d walk into fire if it meant protecting what’s yours.

And that infuriates him.

Because Bruce—Bruce—knows what defiance costs. He’s worn it like armor. Bled for it. Buried people because of it.

But when you do it?

It doesn’t look like self-destruction. It looks like purpose. Power. Something beautiful he was never allowed to have.

He wants to touch your face when you tilt your chin like that. Wants to grab your wrist and pull you into him—not to overpower, but to understand. To memorize the blueprint of that defiance. To feel it against his mouth.

You make silence feel like war. And he’s losing.

Because there is something deeply, dangerously erotic about a woman who doesn’t flinch when she should. Who doesn’t soften to make him comfortable. Who looks at the darkest thing in him—and doesn’t look away.

He’s not used to being watched like that. He’s not used to wanting to be watched like that.

And every time you lift that chin, he’s reminded of exactly how easy it would be to give up the act, the mask, the fiction of the untouchable man—

—all for one person who sees him and doesn't look away.

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tojipie · 5 months ago

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˚ ✧ ────────

you’re 5 minutes into your first round and to be quite honest, you’ve never been more sure that fushiguro toji and his god given ability to dirty talk is something you’ll take to your grave.

you’d been with other guys before, ones with a nasty habit of running their mouths during sex. ones that’d grab you by the neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how tight you were, how they couldn’t wait to fuck you again.

toji is entirely different. nothing, and i truly mean nothing, compares to that old man when it comes to mouthing off in the bedroom. he’s formulating sentences you never thought possible, spewing stuff that would have you clutching your pearls and running for the hills any other given day.

you’re holding onto your composure by your teeth hearing him say the things he does, thighs and arms burning as you rock back and forth on his dick.

“take what you need pretty. uh huh, keep fucking me,” he chuckles, winding a fist into your hair to pull you back onto his cock when he notices you trying to crawl away.

you honestly don’t think you can take it anymore. if the way your guts were currently being pummeled into oblivion wasn’t enough, the way he’s talking to you right now has you in crisis.

it’s all too good, suspiciously good, and embarrassingly enough, you think you might be nearing your edge only 7 minutes after making it to his bed. your arms fail you as you try to crawl up the bed and away from the too-good feeling currently frying every wire in your brain.

“awww, you runnin’ from me?,” he laughs, letting your hair go to cage you in from behind, two solid arms settling on either side of your head.

your words escape you each time you muster up a response, eyes rolling back and he takes over again, shoving you face down and absolutely destroying that special spot tucked away inside of you. toji’s like a furnace, cooking you alive with the heat the radiates add his abs and chest.

“told ya you couldn’t handle it,” he teases, watching you writhe under him. “not with this dick.”

you feel something wet—a tongue you realize— traveling up the base of your spine and tapering off at your neck before solid teeth clamp down on the skin there.

okay, wow. fuck. you realize he’d lapped up the moisture settling in the dip of your back, licking the sweat from your skin like an animal.

“gonna let me taste every part of you? hmm?” he says in that too sweet voice you only hear when he’s teasing. he lets go of your neck with a pop to admire the bruise his bite leaves in its wake, sucking another one right under it for good measure.

you fall over the edge with no warning, so overwhelmed with pleasure that your mind and body continue to work separately.

the sound toji makes is beautiful. low, long, and guttural. radiating from the deepest part of his chest like a fan, and for a minute, you think he might be feeling the same overwhelming pleasure you are.

“ughh-hah don’t move, don’t move,” he whispers over and over, massaging the fat of your ass while your body flutters around him. you feel something viscous leak out of you, dripping down the seam of your heat and onto the sheets.

“when the fuck did you have time to cum?,” you finally muster. you don’t think you’d be able to move if your life depended on it, limbs sinking into the mattress like tubes of jelly. you really can’t move once you feel 200 pounds of laughing muscle settle on top of you, keeping you grounded like a paperweight on a measly little envelope.

“what, y’ quitting on all of this?” he laughs, gesturing up and down himself so you know just how irresistible he thinks he is. the worst part is that he’s right, just based off of how hard he’d rocked your world in the last 10 or so minutes.

you feel invigorated by some stroke of a miracle, pressing back on his still-leaking dick as a silent invitation.

“what, more? y’need more of me you little minx?” he laughs, grrriiiinding his tip right up against that fleeting spot you would have never been able to get to on your own.

and just like that he’s back to fucking you, pulling you into him like a toy at that same perfect pace.

“bite me hard if y’ want me to stop, you hear me?” he commands, shoving your face back into the pillows once he sees you nod.

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji headcanons #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji smut

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arolesbianism · 1 year ago

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Every now and then I remember that oni in fact will eventually have more lore added and I get so excited and scared for a moment and then I remember that it could take months until we see any of that and I proceed to forget abt it again and the cycle repeats

#rat rambles #oni posting #now it does sadden me a smidge that itll probably be in paid dlc but thats a problem for future me #the bright side of new lore is new lore #the downside of new lore is the eternal fear of canon jackie and olivia designs #not because Im opposed to them getting canon designs its just so scary #like what if klei made them white how would I move forward from that #and its not even a situation where I can say with any level of confidence if they would or not because god if I fucking know #like they have until very recently seemingly deliberately avoided including anything Too lore relevant in any animated trailers #but that can kind of just be explained by well. the fact that most of those updates didn't include any lore.#and those that do involve it stay strictly in the dupes perspective #so I can't rly use that as any sign that theyre deliberately avoiding giving olivia and jackie canon designs #I would highly prefer they dont get designs even without fear of designs I dislike mostly because narratively it just works better that way #but hey its not up to me so whatever happens happens #I mostly assume future lore is going to mostly relate to the dupe donors we havent met yet and elaborating on some of the ones we have seen #but dont see a lot of if anything at all #I hope they dont mess with jackie and olivia too much but I do think itd be nice to give jackie just a smidge more like Ive talked abt #and other than that I could see them adding maybe new story traits and if they're feeling real generous more dupe lore #oh and if we're mega lucky we could get a dr.holland first name #honestly I hope that for dr.holland specifically they either just do a hard name drop and move on or just dont touch him #rly my main concern with any added oni lore is I Really dont want them to start telling us too much #I really really like all of our information being very fragmented and unclear as it adds to the post end of the world vibe rly well #and this is in fact a problem that they had in older versions of the story that they seemingly went out of their way to solve #so I rly want to have faith that they wont fuck it up but I have been burned before and oni has yet to have fully earn my trust #its not far off tho just the scrapped logs themselves give me faith that they are aware what story theyre writing and what needs done #again the scrapped logs are cool but would have dampened the narrative quite significantly from how straight forward they are #so them being full one scrapped early on makes me hopeful that they realized that too #rly I just dont want too much expansion on the stuff we already know #some names and work ids would be splendid and Im all for new fragments to try to place in the timeline #I just dont want a log where nikola stares at the camera and monologues abt the duplicant project or smth

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dollfacefantasy · 8 months ago

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kinktober day 20 - size kink jason todd x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, size kink, tummy bulge

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Oh, look at you go. Being so brave for me."

On the surface the words are soothing, but the tone of Jason's voice fills each syllable with condescension. Not in a bad way. The sickly sweet lilt strikes the perfect chord that has you wetter than any body of water on this earth.

Your hips rise and fall in measure rolls, your cunt embracing his thick cock with every motion. You have to take it slow. Otherwise, you feel like you'll tear yourself in half.

"Jay…" you whimper, lip wobbling and eyes gleaming with the need for him to coddle you, "You're so…"

A sharp whine from your throat cuts off your own words. Your head tilts back and then hangs forward. His tip brushes your sweet spot every time you sink down on him. It makes it nearly impossible to remain coherent. You'd never met somebody who could make you malfunction like this.

"I'm so what?" he coos, prompting you to finish your statement. He already knew the words on the tip of your tongue, but he still wanted to hear them spoken into the drafty air of your apartment.

"You're so big," you choke out.

Another moan falls from your lips before you grit your teeth. Your face scrunches up in tandem with your walls clenching around his length. Vaguely, you hear him chuckle. He then pulls you close and cradles you against his chest.

"And you like that, don't you?" he whispers.

He slumps further down on the couch. His feet press hard against the smooth wooden floor beneath the two of you. The muscles in his thighs flex as he begins to pump his hips up and down. You whine and clutch at his meaty bicep, melting against his warm skin and letting him do all the work right now.

You nearly forget he asked a question at all until he continues speaking.

"I know you do, doll. You like that when you're with me, you're helpless. Don't have to think. Don't have to move. Don't have to do anything but let me use this sweet, little pussy till I'm satisfied," he says.

Your toes curl, your thighs clamping around his own. The pressure doesn't stop him from moving though, not in the slightest. You inhale sharply before nodding against his neck. Of course, you like this. You love it.

You could never get enough of Jason's body. You'd study it forever if he let you. Your pupils felt magnetized whenever they had the chance to drift along his chiseled torso or mentally map the pathways of his scars. Adoration wasn't a strong enough word for how you felt in regards to his figure. Obsession seemed more appropriate.

Fortunately for you, Jason behaved much the same about your body.

In the mornings when he thought sleep still had a strong hold on you, he'd run his fingers over every curve he could find. He'd knead the swell of your ass and press tender kisses between your shoulder blades. As you'd start to wake, he'd wrap his hands around your waist and nearly pop a boner right then and there from how large they looked in comparison.

His favorite thing in the world after a long grueling patrol fast became coming home to you. Not even thirty minutes with your delicate body washed away all the stress caused by hard and rough people he dealt with beyond these walls. Some nights he'd prop your dainty legs over his broad shoulders and dive into your slippery cunt. Other nights he'd get right down to it, shoving his fat cock inside you and watching your belly bulge with the intrusion.

Tonight hadn't been either of those. He'd been home for a change. But having you curled up to his side and pressed against him while he read a book got him worked up pretty fast. It wasn't his fault the two of you just seemed to fit so naturally together.

"My good girl. Soft and sweet all for me," he praises as he continues fucking up into you. His heavy balls lightly slap against your ass with each thrust.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as the repetitive strokes start to build on one another. Small, whimpered expletives drip from your lips like a leaky faucet. He knows you're getting there. All he has to do is ramp up his efforts a little.

His hands lock around your waist like they do on hazy mornings. Just like then, he's obsessed with the way your skin dimples beneath his digits now. He boosts you back and starts bouncing you up and down in addition to his thrusts.

Your eyes roll back at the sensation and you take your bottom lip between your teeth. You don't have to do anything in this position still. He's strong enough to hold you upright all by himself. The only thing you had to do was like he said - stay still and let yourself be used.

"Can never get enough of you, baby, fuck," he grunts. His head falls back against the sagging cushion as he keeps working himself into you over and over. He glances back up at you slightly. "Is it feeling good?"

"Mhm," you whine, "So fuckin' good. So deep. All the way inside."

Your head bobbles around with the way he jerks you up and down on his lap. He smirks at your words and the airy way you say them.

"I know. I can see it," he responds, eyes flitting down to that faint and familiar bump. Evidence of his place inside you.

You only whimper in response. He drops you back down against his chest so one of his hands can slot against your center and rub your clit in fast, tight circles. The flickering feeling draws even more noises of pleasure from you.

The edge sneaks up on the both of you fast. You fall over it first. Your body spasms and seizes between his hands, but his strong grip is enough to keep you in place. For him, it explodes in a muted burst of ecstasy before burning into a brighter one. He wraps his arms around your smaller frame and keeps you flush against his sweaty skin as he fucks his load deep inside.

The both of you stay there while you come down. His chest puffs up and down with deep breaths. Even with all his exertion, his hand rubs soothing stripes along the column of your spine. You lie against him completely motionless, limp against the muscles of his chest. A little pleasure doll all for him to play with.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc smut #ch: jason todd 💌

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papayadays · 11 days ago

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my man - ln4

⋆˚✿˖° lando just won monaco, but it was supposed to your night with him ⋆˚✿˖° inspired by miss possessive for my so close to what event ⋆˚✿˖° wc: 2.1k+ | a/n: this was finished at 12 am for lando monaco win so sorry it took me forever (so happy for lando)

SASS CAFE WAS BUZZING WELL INTO MIDNIGHT. lando had just won monaco, and of course, it called for a big celebration with his friends. honestly, was it really a lando norris win without a rager? there were celebrities galore, such were lando’s connections, and you even saw kylian mbappe hanging around. rounds of shots had been passed around, with most partygoers buzzed within the first hour or two.

it was how you expected—bass thrumming, lights down low, people crowded together as they attempted to dance to the beat. and there in the middle of it was your boyfriend, the race winner. from lights out to lap 78, it had been a whirlwind, but it ended with you tearing up as you watched lando beam, triumphant, so it was all worth it. had you almost pulled out your hair due to nerves? no comment. had your heart pounded with glee and pride? most definitely.

but it all worked out in the end. lando deserved the stars, in your unbiased opinion, and you knew how much this meant to him. c’mon, it was the monaco grand prix. historic. iconic. magic. and lando, your lando, had won it. in a beautiful, perfect victory no less. how were you supposed to be normal about that?

the whole time you were fidgeting with whatever was on hand, and a few curse words were muttered, but god, was it worth the anxiety. cisca and adam were also there, a highlight of your day as cisca gave you one of her unique bangles for good luck, and adam narrated everything in extreme detail. they were genuinely some of the sweetest people you’d ever met; it was clear where lando got it from.

you headed back towards the center of action, where lando and his mates were cheering and making a poor attempt to dance to the music. drinks in hand, you stopped in your tracks as you saw what was in front of you.

baby blue eyes wandered up and down your boyfriend’s figure, and a red lip caught by teeth made your blood boil. her outfit certainly didn’t help either; a skintight dress that landed high on her thigh with a slit. the girl leaned over, and you almost rolled your eyes. it was clear she was trying to get lando’s attention, and you didn’t like it. to be honest, it was like watching the fia make decisions: annoying, irrational, and pointless. now, you didn’t—couldn’t—move as you watched her blonde hair sweep over her shoulders, model physique moving closer to lando in that short orange dress of hers that you knew was for attention.

she was beautiful, anyone could see that she had the kind of natural beauty many women would envy. but you kept watching, frozen, as she squeezed his shoulder and giggled way too hard at whatever joke lando was making, shoulders shaking. and your boyfriend was too kind and outgoing to notice, bless his soul. he was oblivious, much to your surprise.

but the initial shock washed off, and a spark ignited inside you. you had already let the rest of the world have their moment with lando after his win. you let zak brown terrorize him. you stood off to the side and let the team have their share of champagne showers and helmet pats. you saw his parents squeeze him tightly, pride shining in their eyes. you went with him to interact with his fans and noticed him taking some time with the random famous partygoers. hell, you even watched on in disbelief as jenson button brazenly flirted with him, charm in full force as he teased lando about “monaco, baby”. everyone else had gotten their time with lando, and it was finally your turn now. or, it should have been.

it was akin to watching a wildlife documentary or something of the sort as the girl’s eyes flitted over your boyfriend yet again, a kind of ravenous desire in her eyes, like watching predator and prey. you knew what she saw—a famous and handsome f1 driver who had just taken a big victory here in monaco. yeah, you knew what she, and countless others, wanted: to run around and go home with a winner, someone with the status and fame. she wanted a star. she wanted your boyfriend.

something twisted under your ribcage, not a sharp pang but a slow, torturous grind. this wasn’t the first time this had happened, nor would it be the last. the tabloids had made it clear that you were different from the women lando had dated before, that you were cut from a different cloth. the “not a model and more of a normal person” cloth. and honestly? you didn’t expect lando to stay forever; you knew there would be an expiration date. his lifestyle was a magnet for girls like the one with your boyfriend right now, and let’s be real, athletes clearly dated models. part of you thought he saw you as a new challenge, a new kind of conquest that was nice before he went back to his old ways. and you supposed that you were fine with that, despite how it sounded. you liked lando, and it would be good while it lasted.

but tonight, he was yours. not hers. and she really needed to get her hands off your man before you were about to snap.

“lan, baby, here’s your drink,” you hummed, voice dripping with honey as you draped your arm around lando’s neck. you gave the girl a once-over, but if she noticed, she didn’t let on.

“thanks, love,” lando grinned, pecking your lips quickly but still giving you a taste of the champagne he had been drinking. you cast a side glance at the girl, smug as you ran your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair. lando waved his hand, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the sight of you as he introduced you to the girl. “this is my girlfriend, who i really appreciate got me drinks.” you snorted, playfully hitting his arm.

“nice to meet you,” the girl beamed, but you knew she couldn’t have been that happy to see you, as evident from the way the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. she reached over and patted your arm, nails skimming over your skin in a way that made you stiffen. quite frankly, you didn’t know why she was keeping up the pretense that she really seemed to like you. you hardly knew her, how was she acting like you two were about to become besties? “lando’s such a great guy, you must be very lucky.”

lucky. ha. if only she knew that was actually how you felt. as irritated as you were, you weren’t about to let her see that she had struck a nerve. “oh, i don’t know if it’s luck,” you chuckled, trying to ease the tightness in your jaw. you were already a few drinks in which made you much less cautious than how you usually acted, more reckless and unbothered. “you know fate has a way of bringing two people together.” you took a sip of your drink, trying your best to feign nonchalant indifference and not let her get what she wanted.

“and i’m glad it did,” lando chimed in, a soft, reverent gaze in his eyes.

he tended to get sentimental when he got drunk, and today was no exception. you chuckled, cupping his cheek for a second as if to ground him. he was making things easier for you, making it easier to prove your point. your hands left lando, fixing your outfit with indifference as you sat down on the couch next to him, one of his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

before you could do anything else, max and pietra walked over, with the latter smiling and rushing to hug the girl who had been hovering around lando. so apparently she was p’s friend. okay, well, so be it. your legs shifted closer to lando, and his hands went under your knees, pulling your legs over his, amusement sparkling in his eyes. with a knowing smirk, he leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “i know what you’re trying to do.” his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear.

“and?” you huffed, tilting your head as if to dare him to quit first. “you got a problem with that, lan?” to add to it, you splayed a hand across lando’s chest, playfully kissing his cheek and pushing him back as he tried to be a little shit and get up.

lando opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as max nudged him, bringing you two back out of your bubble. “oh, we were just talking about you,” the girl added, not bothering to add further elaboration until the awkwardness started to settle like a cold front. “i was just asking p why we didn’t see you at all during the race.” wow, now you knew what it was like for lando in the media pen and the horde of press that loved to stir random things up.

composing yourself, you smiled and laughed like a champ, twisting a ring on your finger to ground yourself. “i’m not one for the spotlight,” you shrugged, leaning into lando, who was animatedly chatting with max about something he saw in the paddock. for a heartbeat, your breath caught at the way the purple light caught on the angles of his face and his wide beam as his hands were gesturing, clearly in the middle of telling a story. you couldn’t help but smile, your boyfriend was happy, and that’s what made you happy as well. he was just…a star, the dazzling sun, and you loved him.

the girl wasn’t impressed, blue eyes narrowing at you as she fixed her hair. she could act indifferent. still, you were so sure that she’d lay a hand on your boyfriend again. “lando, are you staying in monaco for a bit?” she asked, voice saccharine, almost a croon. “maybe the race winner should do a victory lap sometime.” the implication in her tone was obvious; if not, the way she was looking at lando like she was asking him to do her a favor was clear.

you almost rolled your eyes to the back of your head at the girl’s giggle. why the hell was she all over your man? kylian mbappe was literally right there. anyone else except lando, in your humble, unbiased opinion. “i’d appreciate it if you kept your hands off my man.” your eyes met the girl’s, hoping your glare didn’t waver.

lando moved his hand to your knee, giving you a small squeeze as a shit-eating grin stretched across his face, leaning back with an air of superiority. knowing him, he probably thought it was entertaining watching you fight off other girls.

the girl opened her mouth to say something before turning back to lando. “you know where to find me,” she purred in lando’s ear, metaphorically swiping her claws at you with the barbed smile she gave. with that, she walked off with an air of arrogance, presumably to find pietra.

you scoffed, wrapping your arms around lando’s neck. his grin widened, enjoying your extra attention. he closed his eyes as your fingers ran through his brown curls, gentle and bold, a juxaposition. as lando trailed soft kisses to your jaw, you shot a glance at the girl over his shoulder, blowing a mocking kiss to her. she so wished she was you. but alas, she could only wish.

“y’know, you become so vicious when you’re jealous,” lando smirked, the sound low and teasing, nuzzling into your neck. his hands roamed up and down your sides, squeezing your hips in a way that tempted you, looking like the cat who got the cream. “i love it. trying to stake your claim on me?”

it twisted something in you, some part of you that was happy at his pride over you being jealous. everything he did seemed to cater to your needs, honestly. “just didn’t like the way she was looking at you,” you mumbled, suddenly bashful as you ducked your head. “like she wanted the winner to herself when you’re mine.”

something flickered in lando’s eyes, some emotion you couldn’t place—it made you want to reach out and fall into the abyss of his eyes. he leaned forward, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “yeah? yours?” he grinned, voice soft as his eyes sparkled. and really, how were you supposed to not love him?

“yeah, mine.”

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chastiefoul · 1 year ago

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love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff, fluff, FLUFF

zayne

his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in

he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.

“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.

he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”

you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”

you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.

you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”

“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”

xavier

he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.

he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.

your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?

xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.

you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.

“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.

you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”

rafayel

oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.

“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”

“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.

you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.

“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.

finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.

“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace

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stellawish · 10 months ago

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precious

summary: just cuteness thats it

MY LOVE❤️‍🔥

he’s not up yet?

nah steel sleeping😴

okay omw

Satoru looked away from the phone and glanced at his son. He rubbed his still-closed eyes with tiny fists. Gojo expected crying, but his baby just sighed.

Your son almost always woke up without fuss, greeting you or Satoru with his sweet smile. But lately, he’s been crying more often during that fine line between the sweet remnants of sleep and waking up. Teething is to blame.

Satoru turned to his side, placed his large palm on Haru’s plump belly, and slowly stroked it. "Papa’s here."

Although Gojo always sulks when the little boy sleeps (since his baby is so cute and he always wants to play with him), there have been times when he accidentally woke Haru during naps because he kissed and poked his chubby son too hard. You always scold him for that.

But now he understands that his little one sleeps restlessly, so he tries to protect his light sleep.

Lost in thought, Gojo didn’t notice any movement beside him until he felt tiny fingers wrapping around his much larger one.

Haru turned his head and smiled sweetly, revealing dimples on his flushed cheeks.

"Hi, baby! Did you have a good nap?"

Your son stretched his short arms, then rolled onto his stomach, smiling shyly. Gojo pulled him closer, supporting his back. Sitting next to him, Haru rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned. Gojo kissed his son’s soft tummy.

Haru moved even closer to his father, rubbing his chubby cheek against Gojo's like a kitten.

"Aww, my baby!"

Your husband definitely passed on the gene for the love of physical contact to his boy.

Satoru cooed, "I missed you too! Now tell Papa, what dreams did you have? Was Mama there?" Haru babbled as if answering the question.

When you said you gave birth to an exact copy of Gojo, you weren't even kidding. Besides the identical appearance, your son was just as talkative as his papa.

Gojo lay on his back and put his son on top. Haru reached out his hands to Papa's face and patted his cheeks while giggling. Satoru wiped the drool from his rosy lips and stroked his soft cheek.

"You're the most precious baby in the whole world," Gojo cooed.

"Ahuu"

more dad!gojo and Haru HERE

guys if you want me to add you to my taglist lmk

luv you!💫

#jjk fluff #gojo fluff #dad!gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #dad gojo

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teojira · 10 months ago

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[Click Click Boom] [Shadow x Reader short stories]

Summary: You're set to be Shadow's companion to keep an eye on him and keep him in line, a courtesy from the goverment for him saving the world with Sonic and the others.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Can be read as platonic or romantic! Shadow/reader romance is implied though! You're human in this, age is vague but you're meant to be in your 20s.

Disclaimer: Shadow is an adult, and as for the furry debate, he's literally an adult who can consent and is sentient, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I've literally been obsessed with this fucker since I was a literal child and it's the first time I've written for him!! The trailer yas me going insane. This is written well before the movie has come out, literally all I got to work with is Shadow in the trailer and the bits and pieces of info I psychoanalized so I don't wanna hear shit about it not being accurate tbh, this is self indulgent!!

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.

#IS THIS ANY FUCKING GOOD LMAO #I have no clue but i love him so bad hes been a comfort character my entire life #no one loves u shadow like i do #promise #teddy loves shadow ☆#shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sega #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #shadow

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