#nasty ass people will ruin shit for you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dashielldeveron · 1 year ago

Text

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. ��I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

“You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,�� he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

#bnha #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou/reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou fic #mha #shinsou headcanons #shinsou fanfiction #shinsou fanfic #shinsou hitoshi x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

1K notes · View notes

elliesstrapon · 1 year ago

Text

Filthy Pleasures

"This t'much? Take me like a good girl."

♡ Summary: In which Ellie fucked you so hard, you couldn't coherently muster up a proper thought, or remember your name, and your voice going silent at the near 'hundred times you screamed her name.

♡ Warnings: sub r, dom Ellie, fingering, over stimulation, hickeys, swearing, body worship, use of petnames; Princess, good girl, baby, babe, etc. Not proofread, dirty talk

♡ Pairings: Ellie Williams x Reader

♡ a/n: Just a small break from False Accusations, not even 5 parts in and I'm exhausted, I needed some excitement, that last part was not it, anyways Enjoy!!!

"Fuck"

Her heavy and desperate footsteps dragging across the wooden floor boards, every shuffle louder than the last that you'd heard just before she knocked on the door.

Every night she did this, needily knocking on your door, yearning to relieve herself with your warm bodily fluids dripping down her slender fingers.

You lazily untangled yourself from the mixed up sheets, shivering at the cold atmosphere. You tip-toad to the door, the floor creaking like an alarm, in which you hoped the people sleeping just under you wouldn't hear.

The palace was old, every door and tile sounded at the mere touch of a toe, finger, breath, you had to pause whenever you heard a slight movement from the floor below.

You opened the door to Ellie, her eyes pleading for your body, your curves and moles gifted to you, woven at the finger tips of a goddess, your plush skin a land of wonders and bliss to the auburnette haired woman.

She was such a massive slut for you.

Your cunt throbbing at her nasty, smutty remarks. "'m needed m'good girl~ so horny" she slurred, moving her arm to open the door further, holding it just above your head, a dark tainted lustful look in her eyes, eyeing your already pointed buds. She bit her bottom lip, the sight of your body already sending her over the edge. Her hands reached for your hips in desperation, closing the door behind her as she forced you onto the mattress, the erotic sounds of your heaves filling the room, muffling between your obscene wet kisses. Her nails dug into your plush hips, your stretch marks being left with half moons in them, her tongue exploring every inch of your hot mouth like a new discovery, swallowing you whole. "Mmh~" you whined, your legs quivering into the sheets that shifted about under your supple skin. "Ellie..." Her kisses trailed down your neck in perfect ecstasy, every last one rougher than the last, you shuddering against her touch. You massaged the nape of her neck, her groans vibrating into your shoulder blades when you thrusted your hips up at her, your back arching in pain and anticipation, "steady'" her voice was low, ordering you as she devilishly pinned her knee between your legs, kneeing your clit teasingly, "shit— Ellie.. God~" you cried, your panties damp in your own produced liquids.

Your mind was hazey, her hands roaming your body, lifting your night gown. The fabric tickling your skin, leaving it naked, her tongue flicking at your nipples eagerly, sucking on them like a pacifier, devouring every inch of them, "fuck—"

"Y'like that, don't you' yeah.." she said, a chuckle slipping past her lips, cooing at your squinting eyes, your eye lashes fluttering and your mouth hanging wide, the feeling washing over you so dangerously. "That's m'pretty girl, so fuckin' wet for me, 'could destroy you right'now" she sucked on the sensitive perimeter around your buds, nibbling and biting at your boobs, chanting her name like an oh-so holy church song.

Her knee ruined you completely as she continued to blemish your skin in hickeys, a few shaped like butterflies, in comparison to the ones in the pit of your stomach, picking up and fleeing while your cunt tingled endlessly.

You were unstable, her hands cupping your ass cheeks, groping them to her content, whispering dirty praises into your ear, "y'feel so good baby' your bodys all mine.. mine.." Her voice was low, grinning against your neck, evilly. A philosophy written so effortlessly when she drew blood from your shoulder, flipping you over onto her thigh, holding your waist strongly in place, like a statue, never wanting you to leave her grip. "Like a fuckin' goddess.." she trailed off, her gaze grazing over your body, her look so thirsty for you. Her rings made you shiver, they clashed so coldly over your skin, feeling so vulnerable. You shook your head, disagreeing with her statement. "Say your a goddess" she darted, her nails seeping into your sides, demanding you. A Shakey moan slipping past your lips when she moved your hips, the friction against your pussy making it cry for more attention. "I want y'ta say it" she professed again, guiding your hips, you riding her thigh, your mind forgetting your own goddamn name and your vision clouding in unease, low and short whimpers leaving your mouth, defenselessly crying out her name as she forcefully pushed you to say it, your hands gripping her hair for dear life, "i—mm, I'm a goddess.." you groaned, rocking your hips on her, the sound of your liquids squelching on her naked lower body, "yeah, ur'mine, such a good girl fer'listening t'me" she said, she let go of your waist, watching you play with yourself on your own, her own request while you blissfully rode her, your panting filling the room, like some pornography video, the sound like music to her ears as you begged for an end on her, your climax nearing pitifully. "Please..." You cried, your legs shaking, the knot in your stomach unraveling so fast you almost couldn't see it coming, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. "C'mon you can do it, fer'me" she shushed you, rubbing your back, you painfully riding her through your climax, your cum dripping down her thigh into her own boxers, wet with not just yours but her own orgasm aswell.

You hopelessly fell against her barley managing to register the look on her face before she flipped you back on your back, watching you like a movie star, her words garbled into the delicacy of the warm skin on your neck "'m losing m'mind over you," she professed, her short nails digging into your thighs, spreading them open, your painful resistance failing as she smirked at you. "Fuck, Ellie, Please—" she slipped your panties off, so wet you wouldn't have been able to put them back on after this whole propaganda, she kissed the inside of your thighs, leaving a path of marks up until your throbbing, hurting cunt,

You were almost passed out by now, every inch of you trembling and flinching at her ringed fingers, teasing your entrance so fucking much you cried out her name so needy for her inside you, her pussy throbbing at the sound of her name foaming out your mouth repeatedly,

Your body was motionless, unable to even arch your back when she thrusted her fingers in you, the dirty sounds of your skin slapping corroding the air with the shaking bed, the walls creaking and your breaths heavy. You weakly tried to push her hand away, your legs bleakly trying to close, your bodily functions shutting down when she rasped out, her voice hoarse "don't resist" you palmed the sheets, pursing your lips fearful that your screams would awaken the entirety of the palace. "This t'much? Take me like a good girl." She whispered into your ear, curling her fingers up against your tight walls, "Ellie~" you whined. "So... Mm—" you failed to put words together, your brains and organs scrambled, she continuesly praised you, your body, your responses barley the ending of her name "Els—"

Your second orgasm falling through, the sticky substance staining her long fingers as she only thrusted harder, and faster, "fuu...!!" Your voice falling silent, only picking up paste, your cries and silent pleads straining her ears, "shh, it's okay babe" she assured, brushing through your hair, the beads of sweat rolling down every inch of your body, your cum still falling from your cunt.

"that's m'girl" she smiled, kissing your forehead, every part of your face, passionately.

Dividers not mine!!

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #reading #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x y/n #tlou smut #smut #y/n smut

405 notes · View notes

ianthewife · 1 month ago

Text

im a liar that lies so okay here it is by popular demand of like one and a half people

Ranking the silt verses characters that i find attractive and why (nobody look at me insane addition):

1. Val — every time she talks or does anything at all, all the blood rushes away from my brain and i fall unconscious hitting my head on the way down that’s honestly probably why i am this way. the gruesome mess and utter devastating tragedy of her existence is so hot to me. she can turn me into a chair whenever she wants to. all this to say: Val please please please please just one chance—

2. Mercer — a nasty obsessed honestly insane woman with zero hinges? ummm yes please? the way she says “mine” before a kill is doing some certain things to me but i shan’t say. love when she is cackling wildly going insane and murdering people. which means always. mercer call me back

3. Sibling Rane — always smiling when i think of them, their laughter has saved my life. cultist of the month the year the life and my heart. fuck it, ill convert to the Trawler-man bullshit even, im down. we are having a spring outdoor wedding with shrimp cocktail bar and everyone is invited. the ceremony will be wonderful and if they want to drown some people during it well whatever my beautiful spouse says

4. Carpenter — no explanation needed i think. she is everything to me on every single level, my love for her is vast and endless and soaring high in the sky. she has never and i say NEVER done anything that i would think is unattractive. i will forever and ever hold her in my heart. also DAMN her voice-

5. The Saint Electric — id fuck her. straight up. please don’t ask me why she is so high on the list

6. Hayward — when he is extremely pathetic or extremely goofy. he makes me laugh that’s all i need from a fictional man. also that one occasion in the end of s1 when he was screaming wildly i think that’s was hot i mean who said that-

7. Paige — putting fucking hayward over paige feels like blasphemy but i can’t help the way i feel. Fighting against doom is so hot. Yes baby quit your marketing job to birth a god. Can i run away with you? Also when she is angry and determined and her voice is sharp with frustration and- well you get it

8. Faulkner — when he is being insane or using that ridiculous goofy ass evil cult leader voice. i said what i said.

9. Shrue — when they are in the middle of a mental breakdown or beating the shit out of Carson. i love how they sound when they are distressed and at the end of their fucking rope<3

10. Cross — yep. you heard me. i won’t even apologize or deny this. baby, are you perchance looking for a 4th ex-wife? tbh would love to ruin this man even further. he is 1. hilarious (big time) 2. pathetic (BIG time) and that’s all i need to like a fictional man

11. Charity — idk i think we could have fun, she’d chase me through the woods and then… well, i digress

12. Carson — now NOW everyone STEP BACK and put your rifles down let me explain— this poisonous slug of a man is the most disgusting, sinister, sleazy, inhuman, heartless, cruel, reprehensible thing i have ever witnessed. i want to garrote the living shit out of him and smash his head through a concrete wall. and maybe in this unrepentant desire for violence against this man there is something slightly sexually charged?.. i… honestly don’t know and i will not examine it. also he talks as if he is constantly whimsically kicking his feet which makes me want to kill both him and myself.

#the silt verses #tsv #yep that’s it #would love to hear other people’s opinions like who is your top three

81 notes · View notes

urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Greasers x mean girl/boy/person (think Regina George, Heather Chandler, Bryce Tankthrust) s/o who uses their status to protect their greaser and is kind of nice under all the cutthroat boss bitch-ness. Like the top rank of social that most other socs are afraid of.

(tried to make it gender neutral of my best ability, but it’s hard to fit phrases like “ queen bee” into gender neutral terms)

Inspo:

*socs approach and start making jeering comments* Hey Grease…

*you get in front of them* if you ever talk to them like that again, I will make it my personal life goal to ruin yours, and no one will hire your sorry ass again. Oh, and you can consider *insert secret* spilled.

Ponyboy Curtis

-intimidated by you fs

-he knows your life ruining rep

-sukrised when one day you tap on his shoulder

“Ponyboy… right?”

“U-uh yeah that’s me!”

“Great you’re tutoring me. Every Friday.”

“U-uh ok?”

-you guys actually get along and he helps with with your grades a lot

-You actually become friends and stand up for him against other Socs and even your own friends

-One night he’s walking home alone from the movies and four Socs approach him and start threatening him

-you on one of their shoulders and the Soc blanks and realization as he remembers your long-standing friendship with Pony

-“if you ever mess with him again I will ruin your life. You know I will.”

-the Socs all back up, and you stand there, smirking

-I feel like that’s when pony boy realizes his feelings for you and kisses you right there on the spot

-you guys are actually a really great mix, the popular person and the kind of more quiet guy

Johnny Cade

-he was so scared of you

-thought of all the possible ways you could ruin his life even more

-one day he comes to school and his locker is spraypainted with “Bastard Greaser”

-he’s even more suprised when you approach him at lunch break

-“Johnny Cade, right? Yk, you’re kind of cute… *you smirk* Anyway I have a dear friend… well, ex friend with me that wants to apologize for so crudely vandalizing your locker. RIGHT, Jessica?”

-his head is spinning, the queen/king bee of the whole school just flirted with him and made a bully apologize?

-you start coming to the lot more and more after that, and realize he often doesn’t have a place to sleep

-you invite (drag) him to your home where you set up a room for him, and being rich, it’s pretty damn nice

-I feel like that’s when he realizes his feelings for you and one night, when he’s about to go to sleep in his bed, he leans over and kisses your cheek

-you guys become a new couple and it shocks everyone

-yall are cute tho ❤️❤️

-you make sure no one gives him shit. If they do then LORD help them

Sodapop Curtis

-ok so you guys are a more expected couple

-prom royalty fr

-soda probably made you nice 💀💀

-you guys met in school and started dating, and he helped you kind of be the nice kind of popular

-you also spoil him with your money fr

-his brothers are skeptical of you at first (especially after sandy) but once they see your do really like him they totally ship you

-POWER COUPLE

-fr you guys are what everyone wants to be

Darry Curtis

-you were both popular and kind of ran in the same circles but didn’t like eachother

-he didn’t think he would like you because he doesn’t like mean girls/guys/people and thought you’d be all fake n stuff

-but one day yall got assigned to work on a history project and you both got along pretty well and you put in a pretty good effort

-that’s when he realized that you weren’t so bad and you two became friends

-eventually he caught on feelings for you and asked you out

-sweet couple, and everyone ships it

Dallas Winston

-you two met in detention FS

-you spread a nasty rumor about a boy who cheated on one of your close friends and he vandalized something

-enemies to lovers energy

-yall didn’t like eachother that much

-he sat behind you and kept making crude remarks and messing with you so you bit back

-“There’s no way in hell if ever dream of being with a lowlife like you”

-after a bit of banter and insults you somehow end up on his lap making out with him

-the teacher walks in and is like wtf- my eyes-

-you guys are the best power couple people cower in fear with you two together

-calls you prince/princess or doll fr

-it’s a typical bad boy x mean girl/guy/person thing

Two Bit Matthews

-you fits me at the mall when you were making fun of another stuck up girl

-he joined in with the teasing

-you were like ohhh this one’s kinda funny and you two actually hit it off really well

-you liked his wisecracks, they made the world all the more entertaining and he admired your cutthroat bitch attitude

-yall started dating after a while

-class clown x mean girl/guy/person and it’s SO iconic

-you two are surprisingly healthy for eachother, you both kind of get to see the under layer

-like you get to see what’s beyond his wisecracks and he gets to see beyond your plastic mean girl facade

Steve Randle

-he was suprised

-when you went up to him instead of Sodapop

-but when you pulled up in your red Ferrari with a scratched tire that was totally not just an excuse just to talk to him and started heavily flirting

-he wasn’t impressed, he still thought you were fake

-which bothered you, you didn’t know anyone who didn’t like you or at least pretend to

-so you kept showing up and one day a group of Socs stopped by the gas station, spitting on him

-you got furious and nearly ruined your car trying to ram them

-Steve was kinda in love after that

-he realized you really weren’t plastic

-you guys got together and are sooo cute

-when you go on long rants he listens to you while he fixes his cars

-and you have a free new handyman

187 notes · View notes

icarusredwings · 13 days ago

Text

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry….Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

38 notes · View notes

orbitariums · 4 months ago

Text

YALL always putting yn in some dark ass noncon traumatizing ahh situation where she's powerless and a fockin dummy and sometimes it actually is just sad with not even a taboo appeal to it. so i'm proposing brat!reader who is worse than patrick, art and tashi combined and FUCKS SHIT UP. like she's genuinely just a bad person. but you wanna be her friend even though you know she sucks. inspired of course by none other than brat by charli xcx.

tw: mention of drugs and addiction and the ramblings of a madman....

she's a rich black girl from the suburbs who actually grew up with tashi and they never liked each other, always had a bone to pick with one another for reasons they couldn't even explain. she ends up at stanford in the creative writing program because of course, she's a quiet poet with no bones to pick with this beautiful world. right? WRONG?

she's a massive cuntress with a borderline coke addiction and when she's not writing she's throwing huge parties in her off-campus apartment which is more like a penthouse. she's a certified 365 party girl with a penchant for getting people to do horrible, nasty things. her favorite quote is from the book sharp objects: "sometimes if you get people to do things to you, you're really doing it to them."

and so, even when she does fuck all three of them, and lets them feel like they've got one up on her and each other, it quickly becomes clear that this is not the case. if there was turmoil in their friendship bubble before, she's just turned it to a train wreck.

she's the definition of a brat: coming into class with her oversized louis v bag and sunglasses pushed up the bridge of her nose to hide that she's coming down from molly. turns to art, smiling sweetly and smacking her gum, asking him for notes. using that same paper to do a line with patrick that same night, at the same party tashi demanded him not to go to because he has a match the next day — he fucks up terribly the next day and you decide the only way to make him feel better is by pumping him full of more drugs and alc of course. you're comforting him and patting his back while he snorts a line, cooing that "it's okay" "you'll feel better" "you'll get 'em next time."

maybe she even turns him into a full-railed addict, and despite art and tashi's begging him to stay away from you he still comes back because the sex is too good and the coke is far too strong. and all the while, as much as they want to shut you out because you're ruining patrick's life, you're ruining their life, you have such a way with words that you're reeling them back in again and again. they become addicts too, not to a substance, but to you. the way you fuck their lives up so much that it actually gives their life some sort of structure, some semblance of meaning outside of tennis and classes.

she finds a way to worm her way into all of their lives, turning them against each other in ways they didn't even know possible. what a fucking brat!!!

71 notes · View notes

glamaphonic · 7 months ago

Text

But no for real all the "he should've gone to find Daryl/Morgan/had a protracted reunion with XYZ character instead of focusing on his wife and kids!" shit ties back into people's lack of narrative literacy and, underlying it, their lack of theory of mind when it comes to these characters and of course all those nasty implicit biases. They think that what they care about most is necessarily what Rick cares about most.

There are people who refuse to understand or accept how important Michonne and Judith and RJ are to Rick. Of course he loves his extended found family. Of course he cares about his community. But people want to act like those relationships are somehow interchangeable with (or for a lot of these clowns MORE IMPORTANT THAN) those with his wife and children. That has never been the case! For the entirety of this goddamned show, it has never been the case! Andy has outright said it: this entire story, from the moment Rick wakes up in that hospital bed, has been about a man trying to find and protect his family. That is this insane feral motherfucker's central, defining character motivation! You would think if you claim to be a fan of this character and love him so much you would know that!

And it is wildly transparent that for many people they do know that but are pretending this is no longer the case now because they don't consider the family he has made to be legitimate.

They've been "predicting" (read: wishing for) Michonne's death since the day she and Rick got together and she was "ruined" for them because they could no longer mentally sideline her as a Strong Black Woman with no internal life or emotional, physical, or spiritual needs. And the only thing they hate more than Rick having a dark-skinned black woman as a soulmate is him having a black son. Hated it so much they had a whole ass documented conspiracy theory trying to will that baby out of existence. Judith gets a certain amount of grace from a lot of them purely from the virtue of being white, but they still constantly pull out the most vile anti-adoption bullshit about her not REALLY being Rick's (or Michonne's) child too.

So they sat there and watched a six-hour narrative! A lovingly constructed narrative one of the emotional cruxes of which is the fact that Rick was separated from his wife, love of his life, for eight years, missed most of his daughter's life up until now, missed all of his youngest son's life up until now, was made to forgot his eldest son's face, made to forget his wife's face, and this traumatized him so profoundly that he literally wanted to die! This traumatized him so profoundly that when he at last had the opportunity to go back he was paralyzed by fear to the extent that he wanted to continue living an empty ascetic unlife rather than have to face the emotional turmoil of the mere IDEA of losing them all again.

They saw that and went, "Well him getting to be back with them is unsatisfying because it should've ended with him leaving them to go looking for a grown ass man whose closest interpersonal relation already fucking went to find him!"

And not all of them are stupid. They fucking know that there is a difference between one's relationship with their sibling or close friend and their relationship with their spouse. There's a difference between one's relationship with their sibling or close friend and their relationship with their children. And it's not about quantifying the amount of love, it's about the self-evidently different emotional needs and dependencies that exist in these relationships!!

They know it! They just don't want any of that to apply to this spouse and these children and they're mad af that the show unequivocally said that it does.

And to that I say: lol suffer, bitch.

#talmbout #richonne #the ones who live #the ones who live spoilers #fandom nonsense

130 notes · View notes

lilyrachelcassidy · 8 months ago

Text

Something Only We Know

Felix Catton x Reader

A/N: BLURB for “soulmate.” which is gonna be a long-ass fic

Warnings: language, sexual allusions

WC: 1.1k

Xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox

“So, where were we exactly?” You glanced, utterly bored, at your blind date. He had just returned from the loo after what felt like an hour — what he was doing there, taking shit or making out with a well-endowed waitress, you didn’t know. It’s not like you cared anyways; the guy was atrocious — self-centered with a plastered smile of a highly conceited person who thinks themselves better than anyone else. Every damn time you had started speaking about yourself, in answer to his superficial questions actually, he would suddenly butt in, completely ruining any remnants of a good opinion about himself in your eyes, and literally begin talking about himself. Out of the context. No exaggeration intended.

“Hey, listen, my friend called me up just a moment later. She said something about an emergency, like something happened in our dorm. Do you mind me taking a rain check?” You put on a fake smile of feigned sadness while gathering all your belongings already off the table as an indication of double urgency to your words.

“That’s alright. Carry on,” he said, “but only under the condition that you give me your number. I still have so many questions to ask you.”

While saying so, his gaze momentarily slipped to your bosom, and a smirk surfaced on his face.

Ugh. What. A. Fucking. Cocksure. Prick.

“Yeah, sure.” Your tone evidently exposed your chagrin, but the what’s-his-name was probably way to self-absorbed to even fucking notice. Without further ado, you gave him a fake number along with another fake smile before promptly ditching the place of horror. You made a mental note to never return there again.

You didn’t comprehend what the deal was with all the guys now on the dating apps. Every single time you decided to venture and meet up with someone, after having devoted a couple of evenings of getting acquainted with a person on the other side of the screen, they would always turn out to be the worst of the worst wankers. Was it a sign for you decamp the dating apps and hope that life would bring along someone worthy your attention? And time?

Were the dating apps simply for some lonesome 20-something pervs who opted just for a one-night-stand or alike, and nothing that would transcend beyond?

Or was it just your fault that you attracted these kinds of people? Maybe the core problem, in fact , was you?

As a situational irony would have it, so in a brown study you were, that your spatial orientation seemed to have failed you, for you bumped into someone. Hard. To the point where both of you —as if suddenly on two different sides of the magnetic field —collapsed on the ground, apart from each other, with the loud thuds.

You groaned and for a moment thought that life simply couldn’t get any better. Sarcasm widely intended. From what you could instantly feel, you were going to have a pretty nasty bruise on your left side of the hip. And your outfit was entirely ruined, with the tights ripped as though some ferocious animal clawed on it, and the rest of your attire was throughly covered in mud. Not to mention the embarrassment of facing the individual who you have knocked down with your absolute lack of attentiveness.

Fucking awesome.

“I’m so sorry,” said you and the person opposite you at the same time. Involuntarily, you scrunched your brows and looked from the ground at the trampled stranger. His gaze was already concentrated on you and he seemed to be bearing the same train of thought as you had — ‘what the heck are they apologizing for?’

Once you scrutinized the stranger’s countenance more closely, you decided that he was rather exquisite in the appearance. He had his brown doe eyes that spoke nothing but innocence; the jawline was so prominent and sharp that you were quite sure that he could cut paper with that shit; his lips were twisted in a soft smile which made him look purely angelic; a little brow piercing only added to his comeliness, instantly exposing that he wasn’t a type of a person you were going to be bored around with.

Also, once he stood up from the collision, he proved to be of an exceptional height which impressed you. The height difference between the two of you was speaking volumes, which was… hot.

He was hot.

Everything about him was hot.

The innominate stranger extended his hand as a silent offer for you to stand up. You willingly accepted the gesture, soon leveling up, and again fully standing on your feet, although now in a more blighted state than before.

You wanted to utter the statement of gratitude and so you lifted your eyesight to his face again. Conversely, he wasn’t looking at you now but rather transfixing on the two-star tattoo on your inward wrist and your still-joint palms. You didn’t understand his reaction, however he, as if inferring your train of thought, turned around his wrist so now the inward part was visible as well.

It took you a moment to realize what he meant — but when you finally did, the situation left you awestruck. He had the same, if not identical, tattoo engraved on the exact same spot you had. Even a little imperfections of the already-a-tad-faded tattoo could be traced.

No. The tattoos were definitely identical which was bizarre.

Instead of being wholly weirded-out by all of this, a strange sense of ecstasy overwhelmed you. You had never felt like this before, not even after a proper session of sex, as you stood there with a complete stranger with your fingers intertwined. The feelings that you seemed to bear in your chest were not only ecstasy but also… the abnormal calmness, as if nothing in the world could rupture your inner peace now.

The rangy stranger appeared to have the same feeling of unadulterated composure, for a grin spread across his face with a strange look of simultaneous disbelief and fascination in his eyes. The expression utterly mirrored yours.

For all and no time in the universe, you both stared at one another as the bolt of electricity passed through your bodies. Excited electricity. The kind of electricity which makes you contemplate your deeply-entrenched theism. The electricity which foreshadowed that something thrilling is bound to happen.

Or someone thrilling is bound to settle in your life for longer than planned.

#felix x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton imagine #felix catton #felix #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #soulmates au #Saltburn fandom

73 notes · View notes

felixsmeshglove · 1 year ago

Note

Alpha Bang Chan addicted to your scent and natural pheromones, the type to lick the sweat of your neck as he fucks you in one of your ruts.

Hawwt.

category ; thirst/imagine

cw ; alpha!chan, a/b/o dynamics, smut/filth, scent/musk kink, minors dni 18+, reader is entirely gender neutral

okay okay so holy fucking shit you’re right. i mean all of the boys would be obsessed with their mate’s scent, there’s no doubt about it, but chris has it the absolute fucking worst in the best way possible.

i mean, lets be honest. channie, the immaculate sculpted creature he is, has a big nose. that is not a bad thing, however!! all it does is just make it so so much easier to catch their scent. (i took a&p i swear this is true i’m not talking out my ass, people with larger noses really can smell better)

it drives out of his mind sometimes, because he can smell if you’ve just entered the studio building, or the dorm even if he’s far back in his bedroom working. if you’re in the same building even, he can still somehow smell you.

“baby… i missed you… i always need to smell you.. always,” chan snarls as his bruising grip tightens, hugging you even closer to his chest as he’d huff into your neck.

honestly, this boy is just nasty for his mate but it just comes from the fact that he is so horrifically whipped for you. he has to obsess over every single thing about his mate. you’ve truly ruined him.

“s’ too much channie… too much…” you’d croak out with overstimulation, whimpering and shaking from the intensity and all he’d do is lovingly lick up the nape of your neck, enjoying the salty taste of your sweat and allowing himself to truly indulge in your scent in all the ways possible. “just a little bit longer, babe… a l-little longer…” he’d reply so sweetly despite the every harsh snap of his hips.

tbh, this would be kind of a two-for-one for chan anyways. he gets to both taste you, and further mark you as his. after all, all of that licking isn’t allowed to be washed for a good few hours. people need to know who you belong to, who your mate is. bang “chris” chan.

not gonna lie, i frankly think poor chris would ask his mate to stop wearing deodorant, perfume, body spray, whatever they might use. he doesn’t like when you cover up you natural scent. he finds your natural scent far too addicting.

#raeraeanswers #raeraethirsts #raerae imagines #raeraespicyseries #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #skz x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x reader smut

334 notes · View notes

trashmouthsworld · 3 months ago

Text

I'm a sucker for season 4 hannigram having domestic ✨issues✨ so imagine a mundane argument gets nasty and Will brings up Abigail or Beverly all over fuckin wine or something and Hannibal decides ruin something else that Will enjoys. He uses makeup to give himself a few bruises and maybe a black eye, practices a teary expression and a wavering voice in the mirror, the works. They had become friendly with a few neighbors and people from the local farmer's market to keep up appearances so the next time Hannibal goes out by himself, a few friends notice his "bruises" immediately. A sleeve "falls" down and a lovely woman who sells tomatoes gasps and asked what happened, and Hannibal's dramatic ass puts on a PRODUCTION. Word gets around fast at the farmer's market and soon ALL their friends are convinced Will is an abusive piece of shit. Hannibal never actually outright says anything to keep plausible deniability but it was obvious what he was trying to do. A few days later Hannibal asks Will to go run a little errand and when he gets back, he's fucking furious (and confused, rightfully.) Hannibal is smug and calm, "I don't know what you mean dear, what happened?" Until Will punches him in the face. This shocks Hannibal's system and Will says something along the lines of "you want bruises? You could have had real ones if you just asked" because he had FINALLY started to have normal connections with people in the real world but Hannibal ruined that too. They either need to move to another country again or kill all their friends, but either way Hannibal got what he wanted. He always does.

#a day in the life #yeah I'm fine why'd you ask #hannibal lecter #hannigram #hannibal #will graham #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal x will #will x hannibal

48 notes · View notes

baradorable · 5 months ago

Text

Marvel is about to introduce a villain called the Krakoan, who is an X-Man gone rogue. It's pretty obvious that this villain is actually Hellion. And people are split on that. Some feel that it's out of character for him. Some prefer him as a hero, or don't want him to have his character ruined, ala Nature Girl or Beast.

But who IS Hellion? If you're willing to sit through my long-ass post about him, odds are you already know and love him. But let's pretend that you don't know who he is. I'll talk about where he started, what might have lead him to becoming a villain, and why everybody will be investing in #HellionWasRight stocks in a few months.

And if we're all wrong, and Hellion is not the Krakoan? Well, no one will give a shit about the Krakoan anymore anyway, so no big deal.

First off, what is a "Krakoan?"

We'll get to that. But for now, you just need to know that the X-Men had an island nation called Krakoa. Now it's gone and it's all because no one listened to Hellion, despite him being right about everything that has ever happened.

Who is Hellion?

I'm letting you all know right now: this is blatant Hellion propaganda. Everything I said is coming from a place of heavy, heavy bias. But there will be some objectivity, in that Hellion is objectively perfect.

It's tough to summarize Hellion, because who he is has changed over the years. Though some writers might forget this, he's actually a fairly nuanced mutant who has undergone notable shifts in his character.

Introduced in New Mutants (2003) #2, he basically starts off as Draco Malfoy, if Draco was trying to bang Harry Potter.

Julian Keller, AKA Hellion, was a spoiled rich kid from California with advanced telekinetic abilities. Something that will stick out immediate is that he was hilariously petty. Like he would take any opportunity to insult people he dislikes, often for no reason. Half of his dialogue is him choosing to be a jerk to anyone outside of his social group, starting drama, or otherwise being a generic early 2000's bully archetype.

And it was amazing. Seriously, he had some of the funniest lines in the book.

He was so over the top and crude that he ended up being hilarious. He was classist, exclusionist, and a little sexist. When presented with the option of Bullying Others, and Literally Anything Else, he would choose bullying.

Julian was Emma Frost's protege and star pupil, so naturally he shares a lot of that bitchy charisma. When the school was divided into Harry Potter house-style squads, Emma put Julian in charge of his own squad, the Hellions. She also let the Hellions pick their codenames. Guess which codename Julian picked.

Emma advised him to be humble after he and his squad won a school competition. What was the very first thing he did once he got the trophy?

You would hate him so much if he were real. He's every 13 year old boy in 2003. Look at him exposing Elixir's affair to Elixir's girlfriend, solely out of pettiness.

I'd post more, but I already hit the image limit. Which is a shame, because I wanted to share the panel of him making fun of Josh for his parents abandoning him.

Hellion's original creators had this to say about him.

Back when we were working on New X-Men, we had a message board called “The Grind Stone” on the site X-Fan. One of the fans there consistently referred to Julian as “shnasty.” That person defined it as a combination of sexy and nasty. Urban dictionary these days refers to it as shitty, hot and nasty. We think that works for Julian, except when we wrote him he didn’t look like shit - not ever. He just acted like it. Once we left, he got a little more disheveled for a while, and probably better embodied the full modern version of “shnasty.” Either way, we think that’s his secret. He can treat you like shit but then turn around and be a gentleman. He sometimes acts like hot garbage but looks fine doing it.

He's catchy, offensive, brutal and gross, but with youth appeal. And if his character was just that, then bravo. He's hilarious. He wouldn't need depth to be an icon. He'd just be this little gremlin of a being, showing up and delivering devastating one-liners like some proto-Chanel Oberlin. But that's not all to his character. Despite being a supporting character in a book about teen drama, he was actually a complex character.

He's a great leader and strategist. He could lead a team, he was willing to be pragmatic and bend the rules, and his plans helped his team beat out every other student during that aforementioned school competition. It was a team effort, but Hellion knew his friends' strengths and how to get them working well.

He has a natural charisma that draws people to him. He's the big man on campus for a reason. It's best exemplified in New X-Men (2004) #5, where he sees all the other students turning their backs on a mutant called Wither.

Wither had unintentionally killed his father when his death touch power first manifested. The authorities would come bearing down on the school, looking to arrest him and have him face the law for his actions. It was an accident, completely out of his control, and Wither has been wrestling with the guilt ever since. Now there was a chance that he would be thrown in jail for it.

Wither was vulnerable and in pain, but it seemed like so many people were turning against him. Hellion, who had previously been bullying Wither for his powers, saw the scorn, gossiping and scrutiny Wither had been getting from the rest of the student body. And he had to stand up and say something.

He gives a rousing speech to everyone in the cafeteria, pointing out how many of the people who were mocking him had caused others harm with their powers in the past. He derides them for not helping out of of their own, and that any one of them could be next on the chopping block if they let Wither go without a fight. If they're not willing to support each other, they're terrible mutants.

His radical speech gets one person comparing him to Magneto. And that's not entirely wrong.

Hellion and the Hellions (along with another mutant, Wind Dancer) would work together to try and bust Wither out of police custody. It was a stupid plan that would only create more problems for them, and it would ultimately be worse than what actually happened: Wither would face trial, where he would be found innocent in the murder of his father. Wither would be free and no longer be in trouble with the authorities.

But that's the thing with Hellion: he's passionate. He might will think with his heart over his head when it comes to mutant rights. Especially when it comes to those he cares about. He's quick to take the hostile and violent path if he thinks it's right. Despite being an asshole, he's a bleeding heart who will go to the extremes for those he loves.

Wither and Hellion would go on to have a life-long friendship spanning months, as Wither would leave the school, get statutory raped by an immortal vampire witch, become a villain and die shortly after M-Day.

Hellion was always looking down on humans - and why shouldn't he? They're not part of his social group, he's not really one of them. But while he'd call them apemen and flatscans, he didn't believe in killing. In fact, he was opposed to killing even in self-defense.

That last part would change over time. But that's only because this cruel world stole every last bit of innocence and joy out of him.

Or how about the time the villainous Kingmaker offered him and his friends all their wishes, in exchange for working for him? He and his friends would eventually chose to give up their dreams and stop the Kingmaker's plans, because that was the right thing to do. Because the Hellions are heroes.

Over the years, Hellion would mature as a person. There would be less emphasis on him bullying others, and more emphasis on him enduring tragedies, fighting for the sake of others, struggling with anger and abandonment, and be forced to make more radical moves against the world. While he doesn't look that jerkish spark of his (and some writers would roll him back to a generic bully character whenever the plot called for it), he would become a lot more mature than he was at his debut. He was no longer a high school bully, but an anti-hero of young man with a talent for leadership, a lot of charisma, and big heart that got him into trouble.

Since we're on the subject of friends, let's delve more into some of his relationships. A key part of understanding his character is seeing how he treats others.

Hellion and the Hellions

So New Mutants (2003) and its sequel book, New X-Men (2004) primarily focused on the New Mutants squad. Hellion and the Hellions would be so popular that they would get their own mini and eventually become main characters. But the early books were centered around the New Mutants.

The Hellions are antagonists, the Slytherins to their Gryffindors. Except their dynamic is a lot more complicated than you'd think.

The New Mutants are lead by Wind Dancer, who is also Hellion's first love interest. While Wind Dancer has a huge heart and a knack for bringing out the best in others, the team would fall apart over personal drama. Bitterness, resentment and insecurity would bubble for a long time, culminating in the group briefly splitting up. It would take a lot of work getting them to resolve their issues and be friends again.

This is where the Hellions act as foils. Sure, they might antagonize the New Mutants. Hellion might tease some of them. But the group functions way better as a unit, and they don't have the same interpersonal drama as the New Mutants. They're a cohesive team of friends who support each other.

The Hellions got to star in their own mini, and it delivered on the friendship. In the first issue, we see Hellion picking a fight with airport security for his friends' sake. Instead of going for a more peaceful route, he's quick to order his team and bust out their powers. When Dust chases security down to try and reason with them, he's annoyed that she put herself at risk.

The series is peppered with moments between the various Hellions, which is really nice. I recommend it not just for Hellion, but for the whole Hellions squad. Every one of them is a unique character, and I think they deserve love. There's a reason why New X-Men would revolve more and more around the Hellions.

You won't be surprised to know that Hellion doesn't make fun of fellow Hellion, Mercury, when she's feeling some heartache. Without any sense of sarcasm or irony, he sits down with her and has a heart to heart. No ulterior motives, no gotcha - Hellion is there to support his friends.

One fun thing about Hellion is that he's a huge hypocrite. He will regularly insult others outside his group of friends. But he would rarely hurt his friends, and he'd be the first to defend him. This is most evident in New Mutants (2003) #8, Surge's introduction issue. He's quick to accept his friend Anole's strange mutation and chides Elixir for not being as accepting. In the next couple of pages, he insults a homeless girl, tells her she smells bad and refuses to offer any sort of help.

When M-Day happens and Prodigy got depowered, Hellion kicked him while he's down and belittled the guy. He mocked him for being human now. But when he found out that his beloved Wind Dancer is depowered, he tried to comfort her and disregarded everything he previously said about Prodigy. Because Julian holds his friends to a completely different standard than he does others.

He has an incredible amount of loyalty and empathy, but much of that is reserved for his own inner circle. He might be slow to warm up to someone, but once you're in, you're in for the long haul. Unless you really mess up or your name is Josh.

Mutants as a whole are part of that circle, in a way. He won't be friends with every mutant, but he would defend them all with his life. Even though a lot of them don't appreciate his efforts.

Emma Frost

His relationship with Emma is pretty good: she encourages his rowdy behavior because she sees potential in him. He has that same spark, attitude and guile she does. She recognizes that he has the potential to be a great leader, and he does everything he can to meet her expectations. She tends to be lenient on him. She'll bail him out of trouble. When others write him off or turn their backs on him, she's standing with him. But in return, she makes it clear that she expects nothing short of amazing out of him.

Boy, I sure hope nothing ruins this bond.

Prodigy

Speaking of people who don't appreciate Hellion. David Alleyne, AKA Prodigy, was a frequent target of Hellion's bullying. Julian would mock Prodigy for having a lame power [Being able to temporarily absorb skills and thoughts from others around him], and sometimes it would get under David's skin. He really knew how to dig into Prodigy's insecurities and hurt him with them. In turn, Prodigy was always ready to fight back against Hellion and put him in his place whenever he could.

Here's Prodigy's then-girlfriend kissing Hellion, right in front of him.

This is horribly out of context, I just thought it was funny to bring up.

The two would butt heads constantly. Over the years, more tragedies would be thrown at them. They'd mature and function better as a group, but there would always be tension between them, for one reason or another. Both of them are opinionated, and their opinions tend to differ.

Why am I bringing Prodigy up? Prodigy will be a main character in the upcoming NYX book, which is where the Krakoan will debut. The two don't have the most meaningful relationship, but it could easily come into play at some point in the book.

Wind Dancer (Sofia Mantega)

Sofia Mantega was the primary character of New Mutants (2003) and much of New X-Men (2004,) She was the Harry Potter that this Draco Malfoy wants to bang. Sofia was the newcomer to the world of mutants. She was confident, outgoing and stuck to her principals. Despite being very gentle, amiable and friendly, she was strong-willed. She knew how to stand up for herself and others.

Julian and Sofia flirted throughout New Mutants. There was an instant rapport between the two. But that doesn't mean it's all smooth sailings. One of my favorite examples of this comes from issue 3. Julian reached out to Sofia, and she says she liked dancing. As they made plans to go somewhere, Laurie Collins (Wallflower) passed by. While Sofia eagerly makes lunch plans with Laurie, Julian dismissed Laurie and called her a freak.

Sofia responds by hitting Julian's ear with compressed air, making him lose his balance. She and Laurie walked away, leaving him behind.

Sofia knew Julian was a bad boy and a jerk, and she'd stand up to him when she saw him doing something she disapproved of. But she still liked him. She was never afraid to give him a taste of his own medicine, and he loved her for it.

From their first meeting in issue 2, we saw what there were similarities between them. The most obvious would be their powers: they could both fly, and Sofia's power lets her manipulate objects with the same precision as a telekinetic's psychic force.

Like Julian, Sofia was great with people. Unlike Julian, she wasn't one to discriminate. While Julian was quick to brush off and demean Wallflower, Sofia was quick to befriend her.

During class, Julian was quick to tell newcomer David Alleyne (Prodigy) to stay away from Kevin Ford (Wither,) because his powers were dangerous. Meanwhile, when Wallflower worried about how lonely Wither was, Sofia invited him to hang out with them. She dismissed Wither's concerns about his powers. She wasn't afraid to be his friend.

Josh Foley (Elixir), a former Purifier recruit, came to the school after previously turning them down. While Prodigy iwa quick to turn against him, Sofia listened to how Elixir's own family turned against him for being a mutant. She related to him and gave him a second chance.

While Prodigy and Sofia would be co-leader of the New Mutants squad, Sofia was the glue that held them together. However, her caring side did get her into trouble: she followed Julian and the Hellions on a mission to bust Wither out of police custody; she wanted to help, but didn't know what to do and needed some guidance.

Speaking of the Wither incident, it briefly took a toll on Julian and Sofia's relationship. She at first helped the Hellions, but Sofia would ultimately side with her squad and turn against the Hellions, feeling like it was the right thing to do. Julian saw it as a betrayal. It soured their relationship for a bit, though the two would make up in a later arc, when a protective Hellion helped the New Mutants deal with a ghost. He was there for her, even when they were not on speaking terms.

Imo, this was the crux of Julian and Sofia's relationship: they were both popular, charismatic and and good with people. They were passionate about helping those they care about. The difference was that Sofia opens her heart up to more people, while Julian cares more about his inner circle.

The relationship helped to humanize Julian and show that, despite his attitude, there was a lot of good in him. Even if most people couldn't see it. This girl saw that he was a good person and she stuck by him, but she also didn't let him get his way or take advantage of her kindness. And that helped make him a better person.

Conversely, Julian was a fun foil to Sofia. He could give her advice, be there when she needed someone to talk to, and he'd never treat her like he treated her squad. He was a jerk, but he had the purest intentions with her. He was the first student she met at the school, and he was there for her through the good and the bad.

Julian also has a pet name for her: Beautiful. He uses it a few times. And yes, it's important to mention this fact.

It was a very pure, wholesome relationship. Two high school sweethearts who were also on rival teams. Sofia brought the best out of Julian, and Julian bettered himself for her. They butted heads, had their ups and downs, and would let their emotions blind them. But in the end, they loved each other.

Gee, I hope some witch doesn't swoop in and ruin everything with a magic spell.

The two would end up falling out, but they weren't really over each other. After Sofia left the school, we'd see her still dream about being with her friends and kissing Hellion. Meanwhile, Laura would catch Julian muttering Sofia's name in his sleep.

Wolverine/X-23 (Laura Kinney)

"You were dead the second you touched Julian Keller." - Laura, to Lady Deathstrike

When it comes to Laura romances, there are two that are popular with fans: Jubilee/X-23, and Hellion/X-23. Opinions on Laura's other ships tend to range from decent-ish, to mid, to terrible. Hellion/Laura (also known by their combo name, Helix) is, by far, the most popular ship. To this day, 13 years after the pairing was torpedoed, it retains an active fanbase. And they were never officially a couple!

So when Laura first came to Xavier's School of Witchcraft and Mutantry, she wasn't in a good place. She was a former child soldier who was only taught to kill. She was a former teen prostitute who was constantly being abused by others. She had and lost friends. She was forced to kill her own mother. She was barely allowed to feel her own emotions. And right when she meets Wolverine - her father/the man she was cloned from - she's dropped off at a school full of strangers. In the middle of a crisis, where students were being hunted down and killed. Everyone treats her with suspicion and fear, and Emma Frost is doing everything in her power to get her out of the school entirely.

And then there's the school bully. Right off the bat, he was dismissive of her, cracked jokes at her expense, and even teased her a bit. He lets her hang out with his group, but he's not very sympathetic to her trauma. Of course, he wasn't projecting images of her dead mother into her head, so he was better than Emma here.

Things turned around when the students were asked to fight against each other, in order to determine who is strong enough to be on the New X-Men team after M-Day. Emma used this opportunity to try and have X-23 taken out of commission. She wanted Hellion to ensure she got hurt.

Instead, Hellion ended up protecting her. Emma was furious. She picked Surge as team leader over him out of spite, and made it clear that he was very disappointed in Hellion.

Over the course of New X-Men, their relationship would evolve into a close connection. Julian would be protective of her. He would risk his life for her. He pushed his powers to the absolute limits and had Emma break away any mental restraints on them, so he could use them to save her life.

Through her crush on Julian, Laura began to truly experience many of her emotions. All her friends at school helped her process and grow, but the growing romance between these two kids was especially endearing. Despite being partly scared of her, Hellion would stand by her. He'd even go on to call her his best friend. When everyone else treats her with suspicion, or they suspected her of falling back to her violent ways, he was the first one to jump to her defense and see the absolute best in her.

Let's not forget the time Laura was ready to kill her arch-enemy, Karima. She knew Karima was to dangerous to let live, and she told Hellion that they had to kill her. But Hellion declined. He wanted him and Laura to be better than that. Hellion wanted to help break her out of that way of thinking.

Their dynamic sort of shifted as things went on. In that Hellion becomes this sort of damsel in distress who gets horribly injured and needs to be saved by Laura. She even went to Hell with a demon in order to save him. The most notable example of Hellion's Tragic Love Interest-ification is the time Lady Deathstrike shanked Hellion.

Laura totally lost it and beat Lady Deathstrike's ass.

These were two broken people. They suffered so much throughout their short lives. But then they found each other. They were broken together, but they found happiness. They bought out the best in each other, and showed the other that they are more than the tragedies they've endured.

There are a lot more nuances to the relationship, such as Hellion being more accepting of Laura's quirks and insecurities, how some fans interpret their dynamic as a play on traditional gender roles, how Laura was portrayed in their dynamic, how it styles over every other Laura romance. You can ask pretty much any Helix fan about the relationship, and they'll all have different aspects on the pairing. Some I haven't listed or even considered. I'm really just covering the barest essentials.

I just hope no writer comes in and ruins their relationship.

Other Loves: Ships that Pass in the Night

Hellion dated Shark-Girl for a bit, and once flirted with Armor. He also took three of the surviving Stepford Cuckoos to the school dance, at the same time - though he immediately ditched them for Wind Dancer. However, years later, one panel had one of the girls casually mention that they were going on a date with him.

Remember Prodigy's blue-haired girlfriend? She was the homeless girl Hellion had previously bullied. The two would have some animosity over the years, largely due to them being two stubborn, strong-headed individuals. Neither of them liked to take the other's crap, though to be fair, Hellion was usually the one causing trouble. The two would eventually be the New X-Men team together, and they would come to respect and care for each other. While there wasn't an actual romance between them in the main continuity, the two were shown to be married in one future, in the non-canon Battle of the Atom mobile game.

There was also that time he and Diamondback briefly flirted.

Fun fact: Hellion has a thing for powerful women. Women who can take charge, or are outspoken, are in control, or otherwise strong. If they can kill him, he can bed them. While all of his love interests have different personalities, they're all powerful women in one way or another.

Also, Wind Dancer and Shark-Girl are both Latinas. Laura (at the time) and the Cuckoos were also clones, of Wolverine and Emma Frost, respectively. (Well, I SAY clones, but technically none of those characters are clones in the strictest sense. It's a whole thing, but oddly enough they still share that in common.) Point is, the man has a type.

Ready for yet another fun fact: Hellion went on a date with all three Cuckoos at once. At best, Quentin Quire got with only one of them. He managed to officially date that Cuckoo, as opposed to just going on dates. But Quire was also responsible for another one of the others Cuckoos dying, which I feel cancels it out.

My favorite Hellion ship, you ask? Thank you for asking, reader. And to be honest, I don't know. On paper, the tragic romance of Helix is compelling and dramatic. It's very easy to see why the ship endured nearly 20 years later. It'd be a slam dunk... if Hell-Dancer wasn't so compelling, charming and sweet. For me, these two ships are usually neck and neck.

I'm also partial to Surge/Hellion, and a bit of Hellion/Rockslide. There was also a fake leak going around back in the day, claiming something along the lines of Emma hooking up with Hellion and getting impregnated by him. Fans on Tumblr were going mental over it, even if no one took it seriously. I love that for us. I love that for them. Sometimes you don't want a good romance. Sometimes you want to see nuclear fallout. It's like watching MILF Manor, but it's even more gross. You know it's bad and it's not something you would even enjoy watching. But you still want to see the mess it creates.

The Keller Family

What kind of people would create Hellion? Looking at how their son turned out, they must have done a great job. Only super-parents could have crafted perfection, right?

Actually, no. It turned out that Hellion is perfect, amazing, and the best character in all of fiction, DESPITE them.

We got the first red flag when Parents Week rolled around. Julian manipulated his teacher Northstar into getting him out of work duty. He gave a sob story about how his parents don't want to see him, though as Anole pointed out, his parents really didn't come to see him. Julian casually waved this off, stating that his parents were busy skiing in the Alps.

Hellion was not only bragging about manipulating someone, but he was bragging about his parents blowing off their own son to have fun. He only focused on how they're doing something cool and elitist. At that point in time, they had likely not seen or spoken to their son in months. He was aware how the situation would be seen as unacceptable by others, but was seemingly incapable of recognizing it on a personal level.

In the past, his parents spent 10 thousand dollars on Julian's 12th birthday party. Hellion casually stated that L.A. parties hard to compete with, meaning that this type of excess was normal for people in the area. Considering he mentioned "competing" and his parents would be shown to care about their image, I wouldn't be surprised if all this attention was not just about Julian having a great birthday, but also making the Kellers could look good. Hell, when you get to know his parents more, you could argue that his parents only cared about looking good.

They were powerful and had connections, to the point where Hellion was able to casually call up the Department of Homeland Security to help him out. Hellion clearly got his Trust Fund Baby attitude from.

Hellion's parents would debut in the 2004 mini, New X-Men: Hellions. (That's right. Hellion's Hellions book walked so Krakoa's Hellions book could run.) They were immensely disappointed in their son causing a scene at an airport, using their connections to get out of it, and bringing his friends to their house without telling them.

Julian's father was shown to dislike his son's mutation. He didn't like that his son had to go to the Xavier Institute, and he was glad that his son mutation was easy to hide. While he was angry at his son for using his powers and making a scene, it was clear that he only cared about how it affected the Kellers' image.

Hellion's mother was a little more understanding. She was softer spoken. While she compared him unfavorably to his older brother James, she was fine with her younger child walking his own path. But she also sided with Daddy Hellion, because they worked too hard and didn't want their son to risk their assets.

Hellion's parents had cut Hellion out of the will. The family business and all of their money would go to James. Hellion and his friends were welcome to stay at the house, and Hellion was still family. But no way were they letting their twerp kid make them look bad or endanger their comfy lifestyle.

Then they left Hellion and his friends to go on vacation.

The moment Mama and Daddy Hellion left, Julian enlisted the help of his friends to root through their personal belongings to find something to use against his parents. Despite originally telling his friends that his parents were self-made billionaires, he made his thoughts clear to them once they cut him off. No one could make so much money, so quickly.

We got a rough timeline how things went down: they were making about 30k a year, 18 months before Hellion turned 12. Around that time, their company went international and became incredibly profitable. Considering Hellion was stated to be 16 at this time, this means that they became international moguls and billionaires in less than a decade.

So what was the source of their success? It turned out that they used magic to perform a dark ritual, summoned an evil being known as the Kingmaker, and then formed a sort of Faustian bargain with him for all their wealth and power.

Hellion and the Hellions summoned the Kingmaker, at first not actually thinking it would work. But nah, it worked. Kingmaker would offer all of them their hearts desires. But as we covered earlier, the kids eventually chose to give up on their wishes to stop his evil plans.

Hellion's parents were extremely pissed at Julian for running afoul with their benefactor. Mama Hellion reminded her son that they couldn't protect him from someone as powerful as the Kingmaker. But Hellion dismissed him and pointed out how his parents were the ones who got in bed with a villain, and the Kingmaker would more likely go after them, since Hellion and his friends were strong enough to beat him up.

Yet despite being disinherited, being treated like the family shame for being born a mutant, and finding out his parents teamed up with bad people for their own personal gain, Hellion still wanted to be there for them.

Despite Hellion's loyalty, his family would never return it. In fact, this would be the last thing he would ever say to them. Because they would eventually cut him off completely, sell their house and not even tell him where they moved to. They would abandon their son when he needed them most.

At least the other guardians in Hellion's life weren't letting him down, right?

Abandoned!

We have a character who thrives through his connections with others. But what happens when we take them all away?

Just after the Hellions' big summer blow-out against the Kingmaker, M-Day happened. M-Day - also known as Decimation, which should give you a good idea of what it entailed - saw the Pretender (AKA the Scarlet Witch, AKA the Scarlet Bitch, AKA the Harlot Witch) saying, "Haha no more mutants, eunh 😜" and depowering the vast majority of mutants. Their numbers, previously in the thousands (being in around the millions before the Genosha genocide) were now in the very, very, very low hundreds. Cerebro clocked a 91.4% remaining reduction in the mutant population.

To be fair, Wanda was going through some things at the time, and it's not like she was in the right mindspace after others were taking advantage of her mental breakdown for their own personal gain. She was a victim. But to be unfair, it's also the start of everything going wrong for Hellion.

Xavier's school was absolutely wrecked by this. The vast majority of students were depowered, some of them dying as a consequence.

Among the depowered students was Prodigy, and Hellion was quick to swoop in and make fun of him for it. Including stating that Prodigy didn't belong with them at the school, now that he was human. He assumed Prodigy was ready to abandon the mutants now that he could be "normal."

Unfortunately, Wind Dancer overheard what Hellion said. As it turned out, she'd also been depowered by the Pretender. She turned the situation back around on Julian and asked if she was less "Beautiful" to him now, and not worthy of being loved in his eyes. Angry, Wind Dancer stormed off and stopped talking to Hellion.

Once again, hypocrisy. Julian would think that about Prodigy, and he was ready to make things harder for him. Hellion would never see Sofia as anything less, whether she be human or mutant. The thought wouldn't even occur to him. Julian loved Sofia. He'd never hurt her on purpose. But through his own attitude and carelessness, he ended up hurting her the most.

At that time, Wither was also going through some things. He accidentally mangled his crush's arm with his death power, and that drove her further into the arms of Wither's rival, Elixir. Already heartbroken that over the torment his powers had brought him, Wither became more withdrawn.

Hellion was stuck trying to reach out to both Wither and Wind Dancer, but he couldn't be fully there for both of them at the same time. He was unable to reach out to Wither and stop him from running away from the school. They would not see each other again until Necrosha, half a decade later in real time. By then, Wither would be their enemy.

Sofia also quietly left without telling Julian. The two would never even see or speak to her for over 14 years IRL.

But that wasn't the end of it. Tag, one of the Hellions and Julian's best friend, also felt hurt. Julian was so worried about Wither and especially Sofia, he completely neglected to see Tag's pain. He had also been depowered, and was worried he didn't belong with them anymore. Tag, along with most of the other depowered students, would leave the school. He and many other kids boarded a schoolbus and prepared to leave their old life behind.

And then a missile hit the bus, killing all inside. Hellion and his friends would get injured in the attack, trying and failing to save the other kids. Julian was just about to reach Tag and save him, only for the bus to explode and severely injure Hellion for his troubles.

42 children died in that attack. 15 of them were buried in the X-Men' own backyard because even their families didn't want them.

Well, at least the Marvel universe had a ton of heroes who could help out during these trying times. In fact, here comes Carol Danvers to... Oh no, wait. She's just here to try and get the mutants to help her side in the Civil War event. All the other heroes are too busy fighting each other to protect these kids. That's a shame.

At least the government stepped in with Sentinels, who would stand guard outside the mansion and protect the kids. And by that, I mean that they did absolutely nothing and completely failed at their jobs. Because assassins managed to sneak into the school and kill even more kids.

The remaining X-kids would go on to have several misadventures, including getting themselves involved in X-23's life when her old enemies come knocking, fighting a time-traveling Nimrod robot from the future, fighting alongside the adults to save a mutant messiah baby, and getting kidnapped by a demon (NOT the same demon that would go on to stab Hellion, who had already been stabbed by someone else before. Hellion wasn't even involved with this demon adventure.) I won't go into detail over all the horrible things that happened to Hellion and his friend, but know that a lot happened to them.

The kids were technically under the care of the X-Men, but the X-Men were too busy, were spread too thin, and were fighting the world from all fronts to focus on the kids. So the kid were largely left to defend themselves. This is best exemplified when, after the X-Men failed to protect the kids from several attacks, Surge dismisses their help. "We already know how to die."

One issue was dedicated to the kids trying to find out which among them was the youngest. They believed that the youngest of them would become a target, and therefore more likely to be killed. They singled out the youngest kid, but they truly believed that they were all going to die.

I bring this up because this was what the X-Men tragically considered a good day. At that point, a good day was one where nobody died, nobody was tortured, and nobody's soul was torn apart.

And this isn't me exaggerating. The X-Men were openly remorseful about how they failed these kids. They explicitly stated how the kids had serious emotional and psychological trauma. But despite everything, the X-Men cared for their students. They couldn't always be there for them like they should, but they were still their guardians. They would do anything in their power to make the world a better place for them.

So anyway, Cyclops disbanded the X-Men and shut down the school. The kids they previously failed were now scattered to the wind.

Emma left Hellion. As much as she loved him and wanted to keep him safe, she knew she had to keep him away from the X-Men. He needed to be kept away from the fighting and wars for as long as he could. Maybe now he could find some semblance of a normal life and keep himself safe? At the very least, Angel paid for his hotel and food for the time being.

Anyway, Hellion found out that his parents abandoned him, so he had nowhere to go. He was now homeless and had no support system, putting him in more danger than ever.

Hellion would seek out Magneto (not in hero mode at the time) to team up with him. Magneto calls him arrogant, but desperate to please. He refused to take him in and went on to say this:

"Everything you thought you were is gone, and the only thing you had left, the only thing you held on to so tightly was that you were an X-Man. Your teachers abandoned you. Your friends died. Your heart broke. Your beliefs shattered. The X-Men failed you. So, you find me, their greatest enemy. You love them so much that you want to hurt them. But I won't use you, and I won't kill you."

He says that Cyclops had given Hellion the gift of time. He had a moment of peace and a chance to be away from all the trouble, before war would come for mutants once again. At least for now, Hellion was safe.

Then Hellion was injected with the Legacy Virus (mutant AIDS) and used as a hostage in a wicked supervillain plot. Don't worry about it, it was just a small addition to the tapestry of suffering that is his life.

Hellion Was Right

After the X-Men disassembled and anti-mutant sentiment was on the rise, Hellion took a more radical approach to dealing with issues. He'd openly protest on the street, belittle and even attack mutant bigots and haters. He had enough of the X-Men kowtowing and trying to create peace with people who wanted them dead. No more worrying about the silent majority minority of well-meaning humans, no more trying to police their own or trying to achieve co-existence. Hellion was coming more radicalized.

Hellion's radicalization was bad. He resorted to extremes, violence and anger to hurt anyone who got in his way. His actions, while meant to help mutants, were sabotaging relationships between humans and mutants.

But let's be real: there will never, ever be co-existence between humans and mutants. In real life, the drama, threat and isolation mutants face are a big part of the mutant narrative. Take that away, and the franchise seems a lot less viable.

So Marvel will constantly throw in threats of violence and extinction at mutants. It ramped up to insane degrees by the 2000's, to the point where mutants were facing extinction for over 20 years real time, and things have only been escalating. Society will only grow to hate mutants more and more.

While Hellion's radicalism isn't necessarily right, Xavier's dreams of peace are objectively wrong. If anything, the X-Men are indirectly upholding the status quo. Yeah, they also prevent things from getting worse (Days of Future Past), but much of their strides end up being undone.

Mutants would almost achieve coexistence with mutants via their nation of Krakoa, in that the mutants basically bribed the world into tolerating them and attacking them less. While Krakoa would reach out and help humans with various matters, and the books would rely much less on extinction events for stories, things were nowhere close to perfect.

I'm going to say it: Hellion was right. The X-Men were wrong. Humans can't be reasoned with so easily. They need to force their view onto others. They need to fight humans for their rights. The only reasons why they don't? Aside from status quo, it's because the X-Men and other superheroes would step in and give some speech about peaceful co-existence being the right path, even though it's hard. Not knowing that things will objectively never get better because Marvel civilians are irredeemable.

Hellion wouldn't have helped mutants with his actions. But he couldn't make things any worse at that point, because the world turned against him long before he was even alive. No matter what, mutants were fucked.

But hey, it's not like mutants can live without humans. Coexistence is necessary for their survival. It's not like they have proof that mutants would thrive without the presence of humans. Yet.

Anyway, Hellion protested and Emma & her Dark X-Men arrested them. Emma betrayed the evil fascist government run by Norman Osborn, blah blah blah, it was all cool because Emma helped him. She also punched him in the face and put him through a lot of shit, but let's ignore that. It's island time.

The Hands Job

So the X-Men decided to make an island nation, where they gathered all the stray mutants they could and offered them sanctuary. This time, was Utopia. Next time, it would be Krakoa.

Hellion would return to the field. He'd fight the good fight alongside the X-Men, protecting mutants and humanity because it's the right thing to do. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still believed in the X-Men's cause. Or at the very least, he wanted to protect those he loved.

Anyway, a Nimrod Sentinel ended up blowing off his hands.

It really messed him up. Hellion got metal prosthetic hands to and made due by puppeting them with his telekinesis. He had the option of getting mechanized hands he could control more easily, but since he was deeply traumatized by machines, having little robots at the end of his forearms was the last thing he wanted.

To be fair on Rogue, she reached out to Hellion to try and help him. She'd offer to have him go on a trip with her and others to India, though he'd decline. He wasn't in the mood to have people gawk at his missing body parts. Which, fair.

Also, Hellion got stabbed by a demon-possessed Wolverine and Laura had to save him. It's only worth mentioning because Laura peaced out after this.

He was pretty pissed off that the X-Men could always come back from the dead one way or another, yet they couldn't fix his hands. He lashed out at the mutant messiah, Hope, for doing jack shit when it came to miracles. Really busting her balls.

So the X-Men got involved with rebuilding San Fransisco after the whole... everything that had been happening these last several paragraphs. Rogue decided that Hellion should come along and help them with reconstruction. And let's get something out of the way: the X-Men were sending Hellion on a mission while he is was, self-admitted, still on painkillers following his double-amputation. Rogue meant well; it was meant to be a safe, no-action mission where Hellion could get some fresh air and put his troubles aside. And hell, maybe he could have refused the mission at any time. But like??? This child, trained to be a soldier by the X-Men, just had his hands chopped off and was thrown into work while hopped up on drugs.

Just keep this in mind. Hellion had no business being there, but the X-Men thought it was a good idea.

So Hellion was pissed off, bullied Hope for being a shitty messiah, and wantonly blew up debris, endangering everyone around him. Before he could accidentally hit anyone, Omega Sentinel (some human lady with evil robot programming that makes her turn evil sometimes, whatever who the hell cares) turned evil and started beating up all of the X-Men. Just absolutely wrecking them. They had no chance.

She would turn on Hope and a little human girl in the area. Just as Omega Sentinel was about to kill them, Hellion intervened. A miracle happened, and he got a powerup (implied, but never stated or followed up on, from Hope.) He was strong enough beat the robot lady's ass.

And he did. Repeatedly. He lost his temper and just kept viciously attacking her, all while yelling about his hatred of the machines who ruined his life and took his hands. Omega would return to her senses, but she knew it wouldn't last. She begged Hellion to finish her off. She asked him to kill her, before she could turn against her friends and harm them. She wanted to die human.

And Hellion obliged. Omega Sentinel would be left comatose.

At any rate, he saved Hope's life. Considering she would be integral to the very foundation of Krakoa, Krakoa would not exist if Hellion were not around. Hope was also the key to saving the mutant species multiple times. Mutants would have been doomed to extinction if not for Hellion. Yeah, others saved Hope and had way more of a direct impact in restoring their species. But still.

It was a tragic affair, and as Julian recounted the events of the mission to Cyclops, he was clearly shaken up and unsteady. He insisted that he had no regrets and said that he wasn't going to apologize for what he did. But he was clearly not doing well.

Cyclops was pissed because he felt that Julian's level of violence was unacceptable. Also Omega was still a good person, despite being overwritten at the time. She was a victim in all this, too. Yet Hellion didn't even consider any other option but violence and death.

Though it's not like he actually had the luxury of options, considering Omega was annihilating senior X-Men, he only had a split second to save Hope and the girl from danger, and even his victim supported his actions with her dying breath. Hellion lost his temper and was flippant about his actions, but he did the right thing.

Hellion then delivered this take-down to Cyclops, basically saying how Cyclops is a hypocrite who did shit (including killing people!), but apparently it was okay when he did it? Things aren't all black and white, it's not like Cyclops was some crazy psycho who killed and always got away with it. But like... Hellion was right. Cyclops had a very "ends-justify-the-means" attitude at the time. He was a revolutionary who was fed up with the way mutants had been treated. It's just that Cyclops had main character privilege and Hellion didn't.

So yeah, the X-Men were shitting all over Hellion for saving them, an innocent child and the fucking mutant messiah, because he wasn't sad enough about it.

But wait, it gets better.

Hellion Was Right: Omega Sentinel

Hey, remember how everyone shat on Hellion for killing Omega Sentinel? How he refused to apologize for doing what needed to be done, when no one else would? Yeah, the X-Men really chewed him out for being so cool with killing for the sake of protecting innocent lives.

Anyway, Karima would come back as a major antagonist in the Krakoa era, after a future, fully-roboticized version of herself would travel to the past, take over her body and dedicate her life to ending the mutants and humanity. Something she nearly succeeded in, when she helped create the terrorist organization known as Orchis.

Rogue especially took this hard. She crapped all over Hellion for attacking Omega Sentinel in a fit of rage while she was down. She would later assault him over it.

Here's Rogue in 2024, after the X-Men finally defeated Omega Sentinel.

Hellion's only mistake was not finishing the job.

But despite all this, Hellion had morals. He would spend some time debating if he felt sorry for what he did to Omega Sentinel. Which goes against him confidentally telling Cyclops that he wasn't sorry about it. Coupled with this, Rogue going on to say that Hellion felt guilty and wanted to atone, and later stories showing him wrestling with the incident and verbally trying to justify his actions to himself, it's implied that Hellion did, in fact, feel guilty after all.

Also, Hellion would not talk to his friends and classmates about what had happened. After his battle with Omega Sentinel, he briefly passed by his friends. He didn't reach out to them, they didn't acknowledge him. Later, fellow classmate Blindfold would straight-up call Hellion a monster. Hellion was all alone.

Fractured But Whole

Before we continue, let's circle back to Hellion getting a power-up earlier. I said it was implied to be from Hope, performing some sort of miracle. But either she gave him a permanent power-up, or Hellion just unlocked his own natural talent. Because the same run later showed Hellion using his powers to remove an explosion out of someone's body, showing he can mentally manipulate heat and energy on a cellular level. Yeah, fellow X-Man Rachel used her telepathy to spot him, but for those keeping count: Hellion could move energy through people without harming them, move at subsonic speeds, create force barriers, shoot telekinetic blasts, control heat and energy, and work on a cellular level at minimum. Laura once told Julian to create a telekinetic bubble inside of a villain's brain or heart to kill them. Hellion was against this on principal, but he doesn't say he can't do it. Considering he could weave his energy into someone's body and remove a fucking explosion, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that Hellion could bubble some jerk's brain.

Now keep this all in mind. The X-Men had one of the most powerful telekinetics alive. He was hurt, vulnerable, and becoming increasingly isolated due to the mistreatment and trauma he had been enduring. Which was largely made worse by the X-Men just being inconsiderate assholes. And despite everything that had happened, despite his growing cynicism with the world and his disillusionment with the X-Men, he still worked to be a hero. Surely this is the type of mutant the X-Men would want to nurture, help and encourage.

Anyway, Hellion was probation unless they needed to use his powers for missions.

Okay, Cyclops and friends were a bust. They treated Hellion like shit and degraded him when he needed help. Maybe he could find help from somewhere else?

So Cyclops and Wolverine broke up over (among other things) the ethics of raising child soldiers and letting these kids kill. Cyclops is pro child soldier, and Wolverine was against it. You'd think this might be in response to them letting down their students and helplessly watching as they got gunned down. But they go back to using them once this event is over, so it's kind of pointless when you think about it.

Hellion choose to side with Wolverine during the Schism. He joined the school Wolverine has built. He was still a brash bully, but he was supporting the more idealistic and good-natured path of righteousness Wolverine is offering. Despite Wolverine treating him like shit and his daughter breaking his heart, he believed in what Wolverine has to say.

Wolverine was suspicious of him and threw him into a special class with other troublesome kids, so Spider-Man could spy on them and see which one might be a traitor. Still better than being with Cyclops though. And Hellion even got to go on crime-fighting adventures with Spider-Man, protecting New York!

But then this was ignored and never acknowledged again. Hellion would never talk to Spider-Man again and this whole thing might as well not have happened.

Hellion would become a shut-in. Trapped in his smelly room, he pretty much cut off all contact with everybody. He made it clear to a belligerent, antagonistic Wolverine that he didn't want to be there anymore. But he couldn't leave, since people saw him as a threat and would come after him the second he stepped out. Wolverine takes the opportunity to antagonize the disabled child soldier war hero with PTSD, whose life he helped demolish. Wolverine even said that he didn't give a damn about Julian's troubles, and was only getting involved because people were complaining about Hellion being a ticking time bomb.

One day, Laura came to visit him. Julian was quick to forgive her for leaving him on read for several months after he became an amputee and had his life destroyed. And to be fair, she was going through a lot of stuff on her own, which Hellion recognizes. He did briefly lash out at her in his anger, but quickly corrected himself and apologized. He also grabbed her arm when she tried to leave him without an explanation again - uncool, but he at least checked himself and let go when she told him to.

Gambit got involved to try and protect Laura... by threatening to blow off Hellion's arms and legs, to match his missing hands. Hellion was being an asshole, but keep in mind Hellion is a child soldier who had his arms blown off in the line of duty, and has spent the last few months being mistreated by pretty much every X-Man he has come across.

Hellion was also jealous of Gambit, but also worried that he was a groomer who was trying to put the moves on Laura. He was wrong, of course. But maybe he heard about a certain student named Foxx (aka Mystique,) who tried to frame Gambit a banging one of his students.

Hellion stalked Laura asked around and located Laura at the Baxter Building, where she would be spending the night babysitting Mister Fantastic and the Invisible Woman's two kids. They would get attacked and abducted by the Collector, leading to this whole adventure. It was a thing. Julian helped save her and the kids from dying in the cold recesses of space. Also Julian made fun of the Collector to his face multiple times.

But while this was going down, Hellion showed his insecurities to Laura. He knew she had her own issues, but he didn't know the extent of what she'd been going through. She didn't talk to him about them, and he would have liked that. He felt abandoned, and wondered if him being disabled now was one of the things driving her away from him. But she assured him that she didn't abandon him, and kept watch over him when he was injured and recovering.

When all is said and done, Laura was ready to part ways with Julian. But he didn't want to go without talking things out. He still loved her and wanted to be with her. But she didn't feel the same way and rejected him. Julian lashed out and accused her of being an unfeeling machine - something that would hurt her. She still cared for him, but her feelings for him had changed as the two of them had changed.

This whole debacle is very controversial with fans. Who was right? Who was wrong? How justified were either of them? Was Julian abusive? Was Laura unnecessarily cruel? Generally, people will agree that they both messed up. But who was more in the wrong usually depends on which character you stan more. Hellion's behavior near the end is never really justified, though many people at least understand where he's coming from.

Despite being a Hellion stan, I lean more towards Laura. Despite their mutual feelings for each other, she wasn't obligated to put her feelings aside to take care of him. Her life was also falling apart and she had her own struggles. Yes, she could have handled the situation better. But I don't blame her for focusing on her own life when she was drowning. And it's not like this girl, raised from birth as a tool and still coming to terms with her own humanity, pain and emotions, was capable of dealing with him in the best way, even though she wanted to.

But I can't be mad at Hellion because he suffered way more these last couple of months, didn't have the support Laura would come to have, and, oh yeah, he had his hands blown off by an evil robot. That didn't entitle him to lash out at her the ways he did, but he absolutely didn't deserve to be brushed off. Which is what Laura did, even if it was unintentional.

It was a failure to communicate. They both wanted different things. They had their own issues and that kept them from being there for each other. They were hurt by other people and situations, those warped them and made it harder for them to reconnect. Ultimately, the Laura and Julian we were seeing now, were not the same people they were when they met and fell in love.

I see the vision, but it still feels kind of abrupt and it looks like largely happened just to write out the romance, while not really doing anything to address their issues. It's a story about them growing apart, but not really making it feel like they grew apart. It just looks like Laura is avoiding Hellion even after he explains that her how her behavior also hurt him, but only Hellion's behavior is treated as heinous. And to be fair, grabbing onto someone the way he did, lashing out at them and poking at their insecurities around their humanities, is arguably worse than anything she did to him. But shutting yourself off from someone without explanation, ignoring them when they're begging for help, not showing much concern for their suffering and ignoring multiple pleas to be honest about their problems, is also pretty nasty.

Again, Laura wasn't obligated to deal with his baggage. And it's not like she was in the right headspace to help. But she was involved with Hellion's life and problems, and he was with hers. To ignore this connection was very insulting. Neither of these traumatized, PTSD-ridden child soldiers handled this complex emotional situation well.

So I get it. But the story was written in a way that downplayed Laura's faults and felt like it had to force the issue in order to make it work.

Anyway, Laura would get into a poorly-received, crappy romance with a time-traveling teen Angel from the past. She would also spend hundreds of years in a Vault with Synch as her only companion, where they'd fall in love under dubious circumstances, largely off-screen. She'd forget all this and Synch would accept this, then get back together with another version of Laura, who is also the "real" Laura, and an old MILF. But most fans don't care about old Laura or accept her as the "official" Laura, and she ends up dying, living inside of Synch's head and then dying again. So this whole paragraph means nothing.

But at least we would get a couple shots of Hellion looking at Laura through some bushes like a creeper, just to twist the knife and make sure that the ship was properly killed.

The Fart Cloud

Remember that time the Inhumans unleashed a stupid fart cloud onto Earth in the hopes of activating latent Inhuman genes in some humans? But the fart cloud was poisonous to mutant and started killing them? The X-Men had to hide their numbers in a Hell dimension for safety.

So Julian was poisoned by one of those clouds, and the X-Men totally failed to find and save him when he went looking for their help. Thanks again, X-Men. You're always there when Hellion needs you.

Hellion would visit the Inhumans on their Earth turf. Now dying from the cloud, he was determined to be a martyr. Let the Inhumans witness a person they'd harmed with their actions.

His powers wrecked New Attilan as he lost control over them, endangering everyone around them. Luckily, an Inhuman named Synapse was able to turn off his powers and stop him.

Synapse argued to the ruler of the Inhumans, Medusa, to help Hellion despite the damage he caused. Medusa didn't need convincing though; they were not going to persecute the infirm, and they were going to help this poor, suffering mutant as best as they could. He was going to get the best medical care and they would work tirelessly to see him recover.

Yes. The Inhumans who nearly gassed him to death treated him better than the X-Men. Hellion would be so grateful for their help, he would volunteer at their hospital as an orderly.

Not much would happen to Hellion after this. Despite being told (by everyone) that he was a dangerous mess they didn't want to deal with, Hellion... never really did anything beyond sometimes teasing classmates sometime, briefly date Shark-Girl, and help the X-Men whenever they asked. Many of his cameos consisted of him being in the background, having been beaten up by whatever villain the X-Men were facing.

Also, another fun fact: The X-Disassembled event saw the adults chiding the students as young, inexperienced kids who should stay out of real missions. Which was disrespectful to the kids who rose to the challenge when the X-Men failed them. But at least they weren't interested in using them as child soldiers.

Except one of the adults telling them this was Jean, who has their fellow student Laura as a member on her team. AND she had Laura's 12 year old sister, too. Hellion was notably absent from the majority of this conflict, since his very existence would undermine the adults' message entirely.

Also the school got blown up. It got blown up quite a few times while Hellion was a student. It got blown up so many times, the kids were cracking jokes about it. Surprisingly, none of those explosions were caused by him.

But just because Hellion wasn't active, doesn't mean he wasn't still pulling out Ws.

Hellion Was Right: Etc.

Hellion was right about a lot of things, but I can't sit here and list every single one of them in great detail. So here's a bulletpoint list of his other truths.

During the Utopia era, he knew that humans would eventually round up mutants and put them in camps. We know that happens in a few bad futures. This would also happen during the fall of Krakoa.

He knew the Brood were irredeemable monsters and hated Broo on sight. And in the end? Their only "redemption" was the X-Men to use them as weapons against the terrorist organization, Orchis. They could never truly be saved.

He ended up siding with Wolverine during the Schism, despite him and Logan hating each other. Guess who won the Schism in the end?

Right away, Hellion knew Wind Dancer was a catch. He also had a thing with Laura, dated Shark-Girl, and in an AU he married Surge. The man just can't stop picking Best Girls. He has a supernatural sense that allows him to figure out which girls are superior.

Remember that school competition, and Hellion bragged about how none of the other squads could ever hope to win it again? Shortly after Hellion and his squad won it, the school was hit by the mass depowering event known as M-Day. The majority of students were depowered and many were subsequently massacred by anti-mutant terrorists. Even when the school recovered, they never had these school-wide competitions again. So yeah, no other students would get to win that trophy.

Hellion had been open about his dislike of robots, after they took his hands. Who was behind Orchis? Omega Sentinel. Not only that, the group was primarily run by robots, and they wanted to wipe out all organic life - especially mutants, but they had plans to kill all organic life to preserve themselves. Humans would be their next target, after they finished killing off mutants.

Hellion thought it was weird how Wolverine kept picking up teenage girls as his sidekicks. He joked that Wolverine was a perv, of course Wolverine isn't a predator, he has no ill intentions with those girls, and some of them just dropped into his lap. But it's still pretty sus, even if no one else wants to point it out.

Northstar thought Hellion was making a mistake, picking Emma as his advisor over him. He thought Hellion needed the discipline. Considering Hellion thrived under Emma, she stood up for him when no one else did, and Northstar abandoned him just as the others did anyway... Yeah, Hellion made the right choice in picking Emma.

New Edit: I just saw this post. So you know how Hellion thought mutants should ignore past incidents and accidents, because they need to look out for each other and humans wouldn't judge them fairly? And then the X-Men were all, "NO, we need to listen to human laws!" Yeah, so anyway, the X-Men would basically say the same thing Hellion did, in the Krakoa era. Except now they had the power to enforce their will.

Hellion hated Quentin Quire and beat him up. No explanation needed.

The Gays Love Hellion (And Hellion Loves Them)

So weirdly enough, Hellion has a big LGTV fanbase. Which is weird, because he's from Academy X, not Fraternity X. Why would gay fans gravitate towards a straight, cis, masculine jock who regularly dominates others an- Oh.

Well, it goes beyond that. The X-Men in general have a huge queer audience. But Hellion has multiple factors working in his favor: he's sarcastic and has great quips, he takes after Emma Frost, he's canonically ripped, and he's had his moments of fanservice.

Most importantly, there was that one arc where he was on a beach for a mission. He thought the mission was casual, so he was the only one in swimwear, and nobody told him because they wanted to see him in short-shorts. He's smart, but that scene would go on to imprint himbo energy into the minds of many readers.

Also, he spent the entirety of the Age of X event with his tits out.

I don't find Hellion sexy at all, personally. He's not my type. But he IS a sex bomb. I can see the appeal regardless.

I'm iffy on the femme-y himbo depiction among fans. It's amusing, but I feel like it tends to paint a shallow picture of an otherwise manly, cool, intelligent and tragic character. But Hellion is perfect even if he's a himbo, he's perfect no matter what. I stan the alternate universe black Hellion who was like 5 years old and only appeared in the background of one panel, who may or may not be Hellion at all. He had metal hands, so I like to think he's meant to be Julian Keller.

Krakoa

So the mutants formed a mutant nation, an island paradise called Krakoa. It was this whole thing, it was great, I loved it. I recommend reading House of X/Powers of X if you haven't already. But the tl;dr is that mutants were able to resurrect the dead and give depowered mutants their powers back.

Hellion was given a sanctuary in paradise. The X-Men who had abandoned him had finally given him protection and safety. He had every single one of his deceased friends back, and they were there with him. The days of M-Day were a bad memory, there would be no school attacks, and he wouldn't have to live in fear of M-Pox. If he wanted to, he could die and come back with his hands, fully restored through the Resurrection Protocols.

You know who else came back? Wind Dancer. After fourteen real-life years, the two were finally reunited.

Hellion had regained almost everything he'd lost. All of his suffering was worth it, because he finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel. All the work he put into helping the X-Men, saving Hope and working tirelessly to protect others has paid off.

But if this post has taught you anything, it's that Hellion isn't allowed happiness.

Krakoa would fall through the machinations of an evil organization called Orchis. Lead by such villains as Omega Sentinel and Nimrod, Orchis would frame Krakoa for crimes in biological warfare and sabotage, wanton murder of humans, and plots of world domination. The whole world stood back and did nothing as the mutants were attacked, scattered across the world and hunted 'till near-extinction. Many people even cheered Orchis on. Some governments even assisted them in making life more difficult for mutants. Mutants were rounded up, jailed, put under inhumane conditions, forcibly injected with "cures," and even murdered.

Where was Hellion during all of this? Well, he was in another dimension. Xavier had sent mutants through portals, per Orchis' demands. They wanted Xavier to telepathically force every mutant off the planet, or Orchis would use biological warfare to wipe out millions of humans. Wanting to spare humans, Xavier forced the majority of mutants through portals, which would end up leading them to the White Hot Room. The strugglers were left to deal with Orchis.

Hellion either went through those portals, or he had been killed during the Orchis genocide and gone through the Resurrection Protocols in the White Hot Room. He'd be there for several months, struggling to survive in a desert with 200,000 other mutants.

Hellion and most other named mutants would return to Earth, thanks to the X-Men. But also the X-Men and the ruling leaders of Krakoa were kind of to blame, since they failed to strike down Orchis earlier, despite them being a known threat. They tried some things, sure. But the plot basically forbade them from making any real progress against them until now. So yeah, the adults let Hellion down again. If they stopped playing by the rules and killed Omega Sentinel, they'd be happier.

Also, Krakoa would still exist beyond this point. Or rather, a splinter of the island nation would exist in the White Hot Room. It was shown that, without any humans or other groups coming down on them, they could thrive and grow as a healthy, enlightened and thriving nation. Mutants had the option of giving up life on their home planet to go to the White Hot Room's and have sanctuary, or stay in the trenches and spend their lives under constant threat of humans, aliens, demons and robots.

Look at Hellion at the start of his journey, and look at him now. He lost his friends, his loves, his wealth, his family, his identity as a leader, and any confidence he had from his body. The only thing he has left is his telekinesis.

The Villainous Path

Little hellions, kids feeling rebellious Embarrassed, their parents still listen to X-Men

So now we have a better picture of Hellion. He's a person with a big heart and a huge sense of loyalty, but he's been constantly let down by people around him. He's been kicked while he's been down, treated like a monster, and had the people he loves most walk out on him. His own insecurities, ego and attitude have held him back. And just when everything seemed to be turning around, just when he had everything he had lost... his home is taken away from him and he's left alone all over again.

You can see why Hellion wouldn't want anything to do with the X-Men after all of this. They took him in, but they treated him like shit and failed him constantly. He was constantly pointing out the truth, but they punished him for it and insisted that he was wrong.

But you can also see why he would have a grudge against a world who supported his peoples' genocide and the destruction of his nation. The same world that largely stood by and ignored his plight during those 2 other genocides he directly endured, and several others he would have been witness to.

Marvel's also on a sliding timescale, where their time passes much slower than ours. So bear in mind, he has probably been active in-universe for 2 to 4 years. 5, if you want to be generous. Everything you have read has been happening non-stop in a very short span of time.

Almost everyone around Hellion is terrible. He literally cannot count on anyone to help him out, because they are either grossly incompetent, unequipped to deal with things, or outright trying to kill him.

If everyone just listened to him, everything would have been fine... Or humans, machines and other heroes would have wiped them off the planet, and things would be even worse. But I choose to believe that Hellion had the right of way. After all, he'd been right about everything else.

Hellion proved himself to be a real hero, despite everyone doubting him. But he has also done things you wouldn't see most traditional heroes do, because he's cynical and willing to do harsher things if it means helping others. At the very least, he's firmly an anti-hero.

There is precedence for having him taking on an antagonistic role and going against traditional heroes. The context was always him doing what he thought was best.

So he could easily work as an anti-villain or antagonist; someone who will take the role of the heel, but still be sympathetic and have the capacity to be redeemed.

Right now, many fans are worried that that Hellion won't be portrayed sympathetically. That he'll be suddenly and drastically changed into a villain, solely there to cause trouble, do despicable things and be defeated. To be a strawman of what he once was. And to be fair, that's a fair worry; we recently saw a mutant, Nature Girl, go from a mild-mannered student supporting character, to a genocidal villain at the drop of a hat. Her character was irrevocably warped to facilitate a story. Anyone who liked her original characterization would be turned off by this change.

Or how about Benjamin Percy's take on Beast? The loveable furball was now a vile, manipulative, genocidal villain who would torture his friends for his own gain.

There was room for these characters to become darker figures - let's not forget how Nature Girl had a small story dedicated to her being painfully aware of the torture Christmas trees go through before they're tossed aside by humans, unaware of the pain they have caused. But these characters went from A, to B to Z. Things jumped wildly and they became extreme caricatures that barely resembled their original selves. And even if Beast did some questionable things in the past, no way would he naturally fall as far as he did under Percy's pen, much less so abruptly.

There's also worry that the Krakoan will be used as a strawman against Krakoa. He'd be used to portray the worst aspects of Krakoan culture and somehow prove to the audience that no, Krakoa was actually really bad and you should be glad that it's gone.

The Krakoan is specifically twisting the dream of Krakoa to rule the masses. I'm not paying too much attention to these, since preview blurbs are known to be inaccurate at times. But at the very least, they make it clear that what he's doing is not meant (out-of-universe, at least) to be an accurate representation of Krakoa. He's an in-universe example of Krakoa being misused and represented.

Despite this, if the Krakoan is Julian, I think he will be respected a bit. One of the writers of NYX, Jackson Lanzing, was asked about Hellion. He had this to say.

I think that's a pretty fair take on him. Lanzing acknowledged that he's not some simple character. Hellion has the potential to be a big player for mutants - for good or for ill - and that stems from him being somewhere in the middle of the Xavier-Magneto spectrum. He has some desire for peace and co-existence, but he's also not shying away from the reality he faces. If they're writing him, I fully expect them to portray this depth and nuance, even if it's on a small level.

They acknowledged his ties to David and Laura. The latter is important because there's a lot they could mine here beyond their romance. Hellion was there to show Laura a life outside of the darkness. He wanted her to be a better person and break free from her past as an assassin. While the writers might focus on the duo's romance, they should at least be aware that it's built on a foundation of seeing past the bad side of someone, and getting to the real, good person underneath.

Further, both writers are now on record as being big fans of Hellion. They not only like him a lot, but they clearly have a grasp on his character. I doubt they'd do something that would destroy his potential for future stories.

I'm cautiously optimistic about Hellion's villain era. I could be wrong and the writers could totally flub it. But for now, things are pointing towards him being treated with respect.

And if not? Well, he'll probably be right anyway. He's the new Cyclops/Magneto. As the saying goes, they were right. And Hellion has already proven that he has been right this whole time. If Hellion is reduced to some baby-eating monster, I would defend him. That baby was probably racist and had evil vibes.

From the Ashes

That's telekinesis, Kyle. How 'bout the power to move you?

The new relaunch will see other books release alongside NYX. And yes, they're going to be notably less popular because they don't have Hellion in them. But with Hellion's new role, who says he can't be a key figure in the world of mutants going forward?

Exceptional X-Men will feature Kitty Pryde and Emma Frost mentoring three new mutants. They'll be protecting these kids and guiding them through a world that hates and fears them, ensuring that they grow up to be heroes. Meanwhile NYX's main villain is likely one of their previous kids they trained, who they failed, mistreated and abandoned several times, who was explicitly stated to be unstable after his experiences on the field and under their care.

These kids are fucked. Hellion needs to come in and save them from the X-Men, before Kitty Pryde ruins their lives with her "help."

X-Men will feature Cyclops and his band of heroes (plus Quentin Quire), acting openly and proudly as mutants. They won't return to their evolutionary era, but they will still but heads with the government and are in a place that might put them in opposition with the mainstream opinion. From the looks of it, they will fight for their rights and do what they feel is right, even if it makes humans uncomfortable, because they need to be heard and- Oh wait. Hasn't Hellion been doing all of this from the get-go? Hmm.

Don't worry, I'm sure Cyclops will tell the Krakoan that his methods are super wrong and go too far, and that the X-Men are fighting for their rights the right way. Hurting innocent people to promote your cause is wrong! Then Cyclops and his team will get a few more innocent children killed before moving on to their next project.

What about Uncanny X-Men? Rogue's leading that team, and Gambit and Wolverine are on it. All three of them owe Hellion an apology. Jubilee's also there. She always busted Hellion's balls for how he handled his relationship with Laura... when she wasn't ogling his ass on the beach. Which was fair, but maybe she could apologize for not being a little sympathetic after his hands got blown off by an evil robot while fighting for their cause.

X-Factor will apparently pit the titular team against an underground mutant revolution, lead by Polaris. Hey, you think the Krakoan might want to get involved with that down the line?

Wolverine has a solo book. He can use the 5000 issues he'll get to beg Hellion for forgiveness. That's almost enough time to make up for how he treated Julian.

Dazzler's getting a mini. And guess who's going to be part of her crew? Hellion's exes, Wind Dancer and Shark-Girl. Wonder how they'd feel about him breaking bad?

And Now?

We wait see what comes next. We hope for the best, expect the worst, but know that this book will be the best of the From the Ashes era, simply because Hellion is gracing us with his presence.

I recommend reading more Hellion stories when you can. This post only touches on the basics. There are a lot of things I had to cut out. There are a lot of things that I missed, or didn't include because I they weren't as important to be as they might be to you. You might read things completely differently, even though I am objectively right because Hellion is perfect and could never do wrong. I might have purposely skewed things to favor Hellion because this post is Hellion propaganda. But whatever the case, you absolutely should follow my boy.

I had a whole section about Hellion's telekinesis. He's a telekinetic in a world filled with telekinetics who ALSO have telepathy and other powers. But he was able to stand out with how he varied in its use - he could create energy blasts and projectiles, fly at subsonic speeds, make things combust on a molecular level, and blast through just about anything. I cut it because I hit the image limit and didn't have enough space to show them, and they need to be shown because his powers are visually distinct. It was either keep them and cut out the tiddy pic, or keep the tiddy pic and cut out the displays of power. And I think I made the right choice.

#Marvel #x-men #hellion #julian keller #nyx #nyx 2024 #hellion was right

46 notes · View notes