#no hate to science kids its not your fault | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

2K notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Note

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms.

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

994 notes · View notes

yakumtsaki · 3 years ago

Photo

-GODDAMMIT VALENTINA JUST ROLL OVER, IT’S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE

What’s up Soph.

-My marriage is in shambles, I’ve been neglecting Sophito, and for what!!

To complete your LTW and achieve eternal happiness! And the marriage thing is 1000% dumbass Shajar’s fault.

-I don’t care! I can’t take this constant pet training anymore, I’m done!!!

Oh come on we’re so close, Ferra topped her career..

-I pay for your salary, Kaylynn. I own you.

..so only 1 more to go between Torr and Val, and you’re not even at the half of your lifebar, I mean this is a new record!

-Ugh, I guess..

I’m telling you, this is gonna be your week, NOTHING is gonna get you down. In fact, I dare the universe-

-MAXX NOOOOOO😭😭😭

-See you in Hell, Ferra. -Fuck you, Maxx, I should have killed you when I had the chance.

RIP Maxx💔 Our first dog ever, we only got him to cheer up knocked up Wyatt after Jojo’s affair with Max Flexor, and he ended up beating up the cats so viciously that I just had to start a dog legacy with him and continue those chad aggro genes. You will be sorely missed.

-Not by me, I’m so happy he croaked my bowels finally unblocked!

YA OK TORR, PLEASE, let’s observe some common decencies for once. The only reason you cats hated Maxx is that you’re all FLOPS and he won every single fight. Long gone are the days where our cats literally beat up the wolf!

It’s a peaceful night as Abbey is finally returned to us (after running away due to losing a fight to her own daughter LOL) I see you stunk up that police car real good..

-Fuck the police, comin’ straight from the underground🎵

..and Sophito adorably does that autonomous ‘follow’ interaction to Sophie and waits for her to wake up, AWWW

Look at them with their matching fortune pjs I can’t💛

-Who’s my little lion cub? Who is? Who’s gonna grow up and be at the top of the food chain where he belongs, stepping on the corpses of his vanquished enemies??

Oh God.

OH GOD I FORGOT THE FUCKING BIRTHDAYS AGAIN

-I grew up amazingly!

You look amazing too, I’m legit getting emo over how much you look like kid Jojo with Wyatt’s nose AND with Komei’s recessive eye color?? What kind of stunning genetic success-

-followed by a stunning genetic failure as Sugar grows up by the pet beds (where he was sleeping) and it becomes clear I FUCKED UP fixing Don’s stupid broken face template and Sugar has the second template features that are gonna explode in adulthood.

-Is that bad? :D

YES SUGAR, IT IS. I’m gonna have to go through so much bs to fix you and I’m scared of doing it wrongly (AGAIN) and fucking up the household. Ugh, just don’t even, avert your face 2 mug from me.

-Well Wyatt, my Sophito has only been a child for 8 minutes, but I can already tell he’s gonna graduate college with highest honors! -Mais Sophié, quelle if il tâkes àftér Shajaré? -HE WON’T. DON’T EVEN SAY THAT

Abbey remains soundly asleep while her carpool honks its heart out, man I love this chonk.

So the boyos weren’t at all close during toddlerhood but it seems they’re getting along as kids, cute!

We discover that Sugar’s one true hobby is SPORTS which. LMAO with this attire, and Sophito’s of course is science and he earned 8 LOGIC POINTS from the toddler shape toy, absolute brainchad..

.so it makes sense that he very diligently leaves for the first day of school. Where was Sugar, you ask??

Well apparently he decided to opt out of this experience.

-Oh man, after spending 6 years in a crib I really needed that nap!

We are so goddamn close to finishing Sophie’s LTW, I legit cannot believe it, I mean obv we had unreal good luck with the chance cards too but man, Sophie is the best! Hope nothing else happens to bum her out!

Aw look who kissed and made up, aging diva D’vorah and her boy-toy (tomcat toy?) Alcibiades! Are you guys playing?

-Take care of our children, Alc! -I will D’vorah, or may my back never arch again!

Uh what’s going on??

NO GODDAMMIT. D’VORAH

-See you stupid motherfuckers never!

MY BABY😭😭😭

-Man you guys have a lot of pet graves, don’t you get depressed with so many pet deaths?

YES WE DO, JJ, STFU. RIP D’vorah, you will always be remembered as a stone-cold bitch who so consistently refused to procreate that it earned her a theme song, and for cursing us with your cowardly genes💔

Sophie has largely grown out of her townie teen bully persona and never does mean shit autonomously these days, but the pet deaths have really hit her hard which is unfortunate.. for this townie Shajar brought home from work.

-YOU WALK INTO MY HOUSE WITH MY HAIRSTYLE WHILE I’M GRIEVING FOR MY PETS?? -Uh, I was invited here? -Oh you were INVITED, were you? By whom?? My WIFE??? Now that she’s mayor of some empty shithole she thinks she can trade me in for a younger model???? IS THAT WHAT SHE THINKS?!?!?! -What the fuck are you talking about?? -Does she think I won’t MURDER WHATEVER SOPHIE-MIGUEL-KNOCK-OFF SHE BRINGS OVER?!?!?!?

Oh brother, ok Soph, why don’t we back away, take a nice bubble bath, maybe a nap?

-NO.

-MY EYE WHAT THE FUCK -Not so pretty without your eyeball, are you? HAHA -CRAZY BITCH, I’M SUING YOU -Good luck with that, my wife’s the mayor! HAHAHA

-Mom, mom, I got an A+ on my second day of school ever! -Not now, Sophito, mommy’s pondering the ephemerality of pet life. -Why are you smiling all creepy like that? -I’m smiling? I don’t know, my face’s been glitched since yesterday.

-Nothing a good robot electroshock won’t fix! Go, iVan, go, unlike Cyneswith this one’s not getting any younger!

JOJO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO TEST OUT YOUR INSANE THEORIES. FUCK OFF

-It’s not a theory, it’s a fact! Servobot electroshocking forces one to reach their full potential!!

I WILL KILL YOU

NEVERMIND. SOPHIE WHAT THE FUCK, WE DID IT!!! I can’t believe I joked that you would get 6 pets on top of their careers before Don topped his and it actually happened LMAO

-Finally, I can sleep.

You earned it, baby!

-And tomorrow, I will gouge out that townie slut’s other eye.

Let’s talk more about it after you’ve rested.

#gen 3 #ts2

72 notes · View notes

jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x @kai-kai-bookshelf @somewhereinthestarss @hsinmyheart @moonchild1 @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie @fangirls94 @jinsalpaca @ggukkieland

#btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

474 notes · View notes

itzagothamcitysiren · 3 years ago

Text

Closure

AN. thank you so much for this ask! This was really fun! I’ll try to post part two either tonight or tomorrow afternoon.

Also, for anyone else, I am excepting requests! They’re fun writing exercises for me and I enjoy them!

Part One

“Can I help you?”

Your voice was quiet yet had a toughness that cut through the room as if it were as loud as a bomb dropping. You were staring at him harshly, this other Peter, tired of how his own stares felt on the back of your head. You had been trying to catch him looking but same as your Peter, his tingle would alert him the moment you began to turn your head to meet his eyes with yours.

This time you got him though but not with your sight; you had caught him with your words.

“Uh-I- er, no.” He stammered, suddenly fiddling with the safety glasses on his face. “No.” he said more firmly.

“Really?” You were now facing him, moving towards him as he tried to focus back on his work. You called him out on it, motioning towards the lab equipment. You had no idea what any of it was, you were smart but not science smart. “I may not know about this stuff, but I know its important. It is more important than me, so that’s why I’m a little confused as too why you keep making me your focus. Especially when you showed no interest before when I was trying to talk to you.”

Peter 3 chuckled but felt the back of his neck get a chill. Hearing your voice after all these years struck him. When he first stepped through the portal, he had been too excited about the idea of parallel universes being real that he had not even noticed you. It hadn’t been until Youth Pastor Peter and he met, and the excitement started to settle did he notice you.

He wished he had not.

It wasn’t fair. All the Peter’s looked different and according to Youth Pastor Peter, this universes Peter’s MJ looked different than his own MJ. Even his Norman Osborn looked different than his Universes. So why the hell did you have to look exactly like her.

And you acted just like her too.

The way you helped your own Peter, how you held him close on the school roof top, how you pulled him to listen to the two other Spiderman. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you yet when you had come to introduce yourself, naturally curious about both new Peter’s, he found himself brushing you off. He focused on Doc Connors cure, only making grunts as replies. It was not her fault, she hadn’t known, but it hurt to see her, alive and well acting just like Y/N.

Eventually you had given up, going to You Pastor Peter and asking him a hundred questions. Of course, he listened in, just wanting to hear your voice again. Apparently, you were that Peter’s best friend, but again, just to prove that the universe hated him, the eldest Peter mentioned how you did not look like his Y/N.

It was like he was meant to not move on and forget. He was meant to forever be reminded of how it was his fault you were dead.

“Are you okay? You kinda look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Your voiced snapped him out of it.

He’d been spaced out, staring at you dumbly as he was lost in thought. He shook the look off, forcing his face to look stern.

“I’m fine. It’s-“he hesitated, but found himself unable to be harsh with you forever. “This is just a lot to take in.”

You softened, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, a motion his own Y/N did to show that she was listening. “I can imagine. I know Peter seems to be better, now that you guys are here but-I-just,- Aunt May was all he had left. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“To lose May, I- I don’t think I could live through that. He’s a good kid, he doesn’t deserve that.” Peter said solemnly. He didn’t even want to think about loosing May. He teared up, coughing to hid it and cleared his throat. He went back to fiddling with his work in front of him, nodding his head towards her. “He’s lucky to have you though.

The silence returned, and Peter expected her to leave him again, but she stayed, as if she was pulled to him. He knew her well. She was thinking of ways to get him to let down his walls. She knew him well too and even though she was not his Y/N, he could tell she was reading him like an open book. He made the mistake of looking up at her.

She was studying him, eyes tracing over his facial features, darting around. Her lip was tucked under her teeth, digging into it causing Peter to have to stop himself from chastising her. She did that when she was nervous, and she was usually only nervous around him when she wanted to talk about the tough stuff.

Peter wasn’t sure he was ready for that and abruptly stood, his stool scratching against the floor with a squeal. It gained everyone’s attention for a moment before mostly everyone went back to their own work. Peter excused himself, saying he needed to step out for some air, leaving Y/N to feel guilty but also annoyed.

He was only acting this way with her and she wanted to know why.

She moved to follow him but was stopped by her Peter. He knew her and her knack to push at things until she got her way; her way, which usually left Peter opening up about his and ended with him in tears. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, Peter appreciated having someone he could be vulnerable with. He was sure how the middle Peter would react to her blunt way of therapy.

Peter knew Y/N let things go over her head, or maybe it was just some weird Peter connection but back on the school roof when the middle Peter opened up about how he had lost his MJ, he’d never said any names but Peter could tell he was talking about Y/N. The way he looked at her specifically as he talked about it, how he could barely look at her afterwards; it was obvious but not obvious enough for Y/N.

It hurt to think about, loosing her. They had been friends since they were babies. She was always there, and he was always there. She had been there for him during every up and down from when his parents died, to Uncle Ben, to when he just gotten his powers to now. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without her.

Y/N looked at him and where his hand gripped her wrist, preventing her from moving forward.

“Peter-,”

“Maybe it would be better if I talked to him.” Peter cut her off.

“But-,”

“It’s a Peter thing. I got this trust me.” He smiled letting go of her wrist and moving to the door before she could. “Stay with MJ please,” he asked, and Y/N reluctantly nodded with a pout.

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x y/n #marvel #spiderman #the amazing spiderman

94 notes · View notes

taumoeba · 2 years ago

Text

highlights from my 4 month long summer before i go back to school tomorrow and take a break from this blog!

i worked 350 hours at science summer camp this year. so fun & children are hilarious you guys are just mean & hold a lot of hate in your heart. kids these days are really into minecraft, wings of fire (a 12 book series about dragons with 5 graphic novels), pop it toys, squishmallows, and pokemon. my campers were also mostly rich and would frequently pull up in their parents's or grandparents's teslas and all had yeti water bottles and bento lunchboxes. i also accidentally made one of my co counselors into a meme but not my fault hes a white guy who looks like mr peabody from mr peabody and sherman...

i read 47 books lmfao... 28 of them were animorphs (go to @andalitean for context) but it still counts. running total for books read in 2022 is 69! (this doesnt even count me rereading the percy jackson series and spiraling about them on this blog. so i guess 52 books)

i reread pride&prejudice and consumed 6 different adaptations of it because its the best story ever. the lizzie bennet diaries is still superior!!!!!

fanny packs went back into style and not to be a hater but ive had one since 2016 and i cant believe people tried to tell me it was a cool new thing 🤬

i turned 22🥳

#blah blah blah #longest summer of my academic life!!!

14 notes · View notes

alfredolover119 · 4 years ago

Note

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story.

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that.

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee

-18k, teen, major character death

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN.

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham.

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

#zukka #zuko #sokka #angst #zukka angst #atla #avatar: the last airbender #fic recs #zukka fic recs

395 notes · View notes

pair-annoyed · 4 years ago

Text

Anime I Watched This Summer

Summer 2020 has officially come to a close. It’s fall in Animal Crossing and the trees are beginning to turn. Much like quarantine, I spent a lot of my free time watching anime when I wasn’t stressing over starting college. Now that the school year has begun, I thought it would be nice to reflect on everything I’ve watched!

These Anime were seen between 6/14 - 8/31 (my Birthday!) and are listed in chronological order.

They will be rated on a 1-10 scale; 1 meaning complete garbage, 10 meaning masterpiece. I will offer my thoughts on what I did/didn't like about each show!

1. Bakemono no Ko - 8/10

This was such a great way to start out the summer! I love the dynamic between Kumatetsu and Ren. Overall its a little cliche, but it’s also very wholesome. It’s by the same studio that made Wolf Children (which I loved!). so I knew it was going to be good. My favorite aspect of this movie was its backgrounds and world building!

2. Wan Sheng Jie - 9/10

Oh my gosh! I know that this is technically a donghua, but its on MAL, so it counts. This show quickly became my favorite slice of life of all time. I adore the art style and all of the characters. The comedy, plot, and design blends so well together. Everything in Wan Sheng Jie feels warm and comfy. It’s also confirmed for a second season! After seeing its cliff hanger ending, I’m so anxious for what comes next!

3. Dororo - 7/10

I’ll be honest, I’m a sucker for studio MAPPA. I really liked the historical aspects of Dororo. From the outfits to the ways characters behave, its grounded in the constraints of feudal Japan. I would have given this show a higher score if it was a little more grounded in science. I feel like more time should’ve been given to the demons and antagonists of the show. Our MC was so over powered, which made the final fights of the series more lack-luster. I think its less of the anime’s fault and more because the original source material is from the 60s. That being said, I loved this show! It was cute and action packed. Though it isn’t perfect, it holds its own.

4. Bungou Stray Dogs - 5/10

The concepts and action are misconstrued in Bungou Stary Dogs. This is one of those shows that I chose to watch because it was all over Tumblr. The powers themselves are cool, but I can’t understand why this series is so praised. At it’s core its predictable and basic. The fights seemed low stakes and low energy. None of the humor really felt like it belonged. It tried too hard to be something it isn’t. I don’t think I’ll watch beyond this first season.

5. Kami no Tou - 4.5/10

First off, fuck Rachel, me and my homies hate Rachel. I really really had high hopes for Tower of God. It paves the way for Webtoon adaptations in the future. Its such a shame that this adaptation SUCKED. I have not read the source material, I’m going solely based on the anime. It wasn’t good? It was horrible. I hate Bam, I hate Rachel. I think all the characters expect Rak were awful. Please don’t make a season 2. Please. If you’re interesting in Tower of God, just read the webtoon.

6. Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun - 7/10

Shoujo anime is my guilty pleasure. I especially liked the way Gekkan Shoujo tackled Sakura and Nozaki’s relationship. Besides just the main characters, even the side characters were enjoyable! It was a fun and creative show. My only complaint is how dense Nozaki is, but I also absolutely love that part of him.

7. Jojo no Kimyou no Bouken (Parts 1-2) - 6.5/10

Jojo is not the saving grace of shounen anime. It isn’t something super revolutionary and it certainly will never be a 10/10. Part 1 was so slow and boring. Jonathan was just mediocre at best. I definitely liked Joseph a LOT more than Jonathan. Part 2 overall was much easier to watch than part 1. The fights are good, but there’s just something about Jojo that I can’t get behind. Although I’m completely bashing this series, I’m going to keep watching it. At this point, I wanna know what a stand is.

8. Clannad - 5.5/10

I was expecting Clannad to be sad, but instead I got a cute, slice of life, romance. It wasn’t unenjoyable, but it was also a pretty slow-burning show. I loved watching Nagisa and Okazaki slowly fall in love with each other. It was funny at times and sad at other points. I am currently watching Clannad: After Story (which I’ve heard is heartbreaking), so I’m hoping to get some catharsis out of that.

9. Otome Game no Hametsu Flag shika Nai... - 6/10

This show is only 12 episodes, and yet it still has filler episodes for some reason? I’m a person who doesn’t typically watch isekai because the genre is so over done. However, when it’s done in a very specific way it’s really fun to watch! This show was definitely a lot of fun, it’s also cute and has so many interesting character-character interactions. The ending is painfully cliche, but I think it adds to this shows charm.

10. Kaguya-sama wa Kokurasetai: Tensai-tachi no Renai Zunousen - 8/10

I loved Love is War so much! I love their weird romantic dynamic. I love the characters, and I love the animation. It’s over the top and executes it humor masterfully. The entire show fills you with anticipation for the two main characters. Kaguya is my favorite character. Although I haven’t seen season two yet, I most certainly will! I’m so upset I hadn’t seen this show sooner.

11. Great Pretender - 8.5/10

This show is so colorful and bubbly. The animation is so smooth and they are able to tackle so many different kinds of things given its plot. The whole show itself just feels like summertime. It came out not to long ago, so some people may not be familiar with it. On top of the show itself, the music is great, with a Jazzy OP and and ED that features Freddie Mercury

12. Steins;Gate 0 - 8/10

I loved the original Stein;Gate so much! So it’s no surprise how much I liked the second season. It builds significantly off the first season in a sort of “off shot” OVA kind of way. The events of Steins;Gate 0 don’t actually happen, but that doesn’t stop it from being meaningful. The big “twist” was predictable and a bit of a let down, but I still enjoyed this. Granted, I’m bias.

13. Seishun Buta Yarou wa Yumemiru Shoujo no Yume wo Minai - 9.5/10

I sobbed. So much. This movie was phenomenal, it was such a trip. Having watched the original series, this tore my heart apart. It gets a high score for being able to take the characters I love and creating a wonderfully emotional experience. If you haven’t seen Bunny Girl Senpai, please watch it, and then watch this movie. You won’t regret it!

14. Hotaru no Haka - 6/10

Grave of the Fireflies made me stop watching anime for a while. Studio Ghibli created something grim, something that leaves the viewers feeling hollow. Its a movie about WWII from Japan’s perspective. As an American, all I could feel while watching this was immense guilt. I will say though, that some of the movies main plot could have easily been prevented if the main character had swallowed his pride. His younger sister was also my least favorite character. I get that she’s a kid and that kids are fussy, but you would think that during wartime, she’d be more understanding and at least try to eat the things she dislikes.

15. Yagate Kimi ni Naru - 9/10

This was a great way to end the summer. This is more that just GL romance, its a love story. Its about growing up and learning to understand your feelings. I related to Yuu so much, which made this more emotional than I expected. It’s really unlike another romance anime I’ve seen. I hope it gets confirmed for a second season. If not, I’ll be reading the manga.

Seasonal Shows: (Things that are still airing as of 9/5/2020)

1. The God of High School 7.5/10

Another thing done by studio MAPPA. Are you surprised? I absolutely love the action in GoH. The plot however, is all over the place. The story seems fragmented and hard to follow. Like Tower of God, it was poorly adapted. I’m giving it such a high score, because it’s SO much more enjoyable then Tower of God.

2. Enen no Shouboutai: Ni no Shou - 4/10

My thoughts on season 2 are about the same as my thoughts on season 1. The only difference is that this season has more Jojo references. I’ve rated it lower because its so repetitive. I’m so sick of watching it, but I’ve got to see it through the bitter end.

3. Re:Zero kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu 2nd Season - 8.5/10

All I’m going to say about Re:Zero is that I love it. I can’t give an accurate review of it because I’ve been hyping this season since it was announced. If you’re into non-typical isekai, watch Re:Zero, its so enjoyable!

1K notes · View notes

filipinoizukuu · 4 years ago

Text

hear me out

uraraka's backstory and reasoning for being a hero? is amazing, actually. imo, its good and complex and i wish it was explored more in canon. she represents a certain type of person we've all either seen or even been.

like ok, we've all known a kid from a family thats known financial hardship and has gone through a lotta difficulties, who has a lot of potential for a career that pays really high. Those people who study medicine or law or even join the military bc their family needs the money.

Personally, I'm studying to be a doctor.

I didn't really WANT to be doctor, but I don't hate it. I can tell you however that it definitely wasn't my first choice. I'm studying to be a doctor because it's a secure job. It pays and it makes sure that my "innate skill with maths and sciences" is put to good use.

And guess what? We see this pattern! Everyday! Over and over again!

Ochako represents the kids who were born to disadvantageous situations and end up showing signs of talent or even prodigy (her strong Quirk) seeing their parents struggle and wanting to become rich and powerful so their families won't have to guess where their next meal is coming from anymore.

And more so, Uraraka could've honestly been a BEAUTIFUL study of that. Her determination to be a hero centers itself around her FAMILY—where she comes from and how she does things for her people. Because she wants to help her parents and leave them secure.

I also thought it was kind of clever how Horikoshi introduced her motive and backstory to us.

When she first told Iida and Deku about her want to become a hero being based around the money from, Izuku didn't understand her at first and saw it as a bit selfish. Iida understood a little better, but I think personally that that was because his character too is formed around family bonds.

In any case, it's accurate. Coming into an environment with other kids your age who were BORN into wealth sometimes looks like that. I've experienced it.

They were the PERFECT representation of people I've come to interact with when I chose to study STEM and entered an environment filled with wealthy people.

First, we saw the legacies. People born into families full of doctors where at this point its was more about tradition. (Iida)

Then, the idealist kids. People who have just always wanted to be doctors and idolized that career since they were younger. (Deku)

And in that situation, it's really only Uraraka (or the kids she represents) who wasn't really given as many choices. Everyone else could afford to have chosen to be a hero purely on morals and the desire to help people, but Ochako represents the rest of us that can't. The rest of us that decided to do it for the money and job security.

Now obviously, she cares about the fact heroes get to save and help people too, don't get me wrong. A huge reason I myself am also studying to be a doctor is because I'll be able to save lives when others can't.

The fact of the matter just is that people like Ochako do exist. And that it's not their fault they think the way they do.

Horikoshi makes an excellent point and explores a really nice perspective with Ochako's character and I'm very grateful she exists. I do hope he takes better care of her development going forward and that eventually she'll be explored more in the future.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #uravity #long post

85 notes · View notes

peachscribe · 3 years ago

Text

peach’s summer book list

i had a lot of fun compiling the list of books i read during the 20-21 winter, so i decided i would do a summer one as well! i still have a lot of books i own but haven’t read, so im definitely not lacking in material

if you didn’t see my winter list, how my book list works is basically like this: i read a book that i own but have not previously read, write a short summary immediately after finishing the book, write down my thoughts on the book, and then provide a rating for the book. i also might include background info on why i read this particular book/feelings about the author, but that depends on the book. that’s how each entry works

without further ado, let’s get started!

1. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

okay so i absolutely adore another book by andrew smith (written after grasshopper jungle) called the alex crow. it’s one of my favorite books of all time, so naturally i wanted to see if grasshopper jungle would make me feel similarly. just like the alex crow, grasshopper jungle’s plot is. so fucking weird. it stars austin szerba, a teenage polish kid who lives in ealing, iowa, and is often sexually confused regarding his girlfriend shann and his best friend robby. and in ealing, iowa, austin and robby accidentally and unknowingly unleash an unstoppable army of huge six-foot-tall praying mantis bugs that only want to do two things: fuck and eat. and i just have to say: andrew smith’s got an absolutely dynamo writing style. alex crow is similar, where it’s a book about kind of everything all at once, framed in a moment centering around teenage boys. it’s fantastic, and it’s more than a little gross, and i love it. this book made me feel so many things, and i thought austin was such an amazing narrator and main character to identify with. this book has it all: shitty teenage boy humor, fucked up science experiments, and poetic imagery that will make you want to cry. and explicit lgbt characters.

412/10 andrew smith what do you put in your water i just want to know

2. Burn by Patrick Ness

patrick ness has written a plethora of some of my favorite books (such as a monster calls, the chaos walking trilogy, and the rest of us just live here) so when i saw this one in the store i knew it would be a great one. burn is an alternate history fantasy that takes place in 1957 frome, washington, during the height of the cold war, and it begins with a girl named sarah and her father hiring a dragon to help out on their farm. but there’s not just dragons, farm living, and cold war tensions; there’s also a really shitty small town cop, a cult of dragon worshippers and their deadly teenage assassin, a pair of fbi agents, and a prophecy that sarah’s newly hired dragon claims she’s a part of. i think eoin colfer’s highfire was on my winter list, which also featured a story that included dragons and shitty cops, so when i first began burn i thought it was funny to have two books that had both things. you know, if you had a nickel etc etc. but that’s really where the similarities end because burn is entirely it’s own monster (dragon). burn is entirely invested in its world, and its fascinating. not only that, i had no clue where the book would take me next. there were so many surprises and amazing twists that honestly just blew me away. this book also includes beautifully written complicated discussions on family, race, and love - it features interracial and queer romances as the two most prominent romance plots which was such a nice surprise from a book i wasn’t expecting to have that kind of representation. this book is witty, fast-paced, and a very heartening read - i absolutely adored it.

9/10 dragons and becoming motivated by the power of love and friendship are so fucking cool

3. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

i hate this book! as meat loves salt is a historical fiction novel which takes place in seventeenth century england, which is going through a grisly civil war. the protagonist, jacob cullen, is a servant for a wealthy household and is engaged to another servant in the house. but due to certain events that are almost entirely jacob’s fault, he flees the house and is separated from his wife. from there, he joins the royal army and meets a kind soldier, ferris, and the two become fast friends. jacob and ferris’s relationship begins to bridge past friendly, and jacob struggles with his homoerotic feelings as well as the growing obsession and violence inside him. also, they try to start a colony. listen, i don’t know how to describe the book because so much happens, but it basically just follows jacob and all the terrible decisions he makes because he is, truly, a terrible person. ferris is kind and good, and jacob is scum of the earth. he sucks so bad. the entire time i was reading this book (which took absolutely so long), all i wanted was for jacob to just get his ass handed to him. i wanted to see him suffer. and it’s not like i just personally don’t like him - i believe the book purposefully depicts him as unsympathetic even though he is the narrator. i did enjoy the very in depth and accurate portrayal of what life would’ve been like in seventeenth century england, and i think it was interesting to read a character that is just the absolute worst person you’ve ever encountered and see him try and justify his actions, so if you enjoy that kind of thorough writing, then this book would be perfect for you. however, i did not see that bitch ass motherfucker jacob cullen suffer enough. i’d kill him with my bare hands.

2/10 diversity win! the worst man on earth is mlm!

4. This Savage Song by Victoria Schwab

i know ive had a friend tell me how great one of schwab’s other book series is, but truthfully i bought this book because the cover is sick as hell and it was on a table in the store that advertised for buy two get one free, i think. something like that. anyway, this savage song takes place in a future in which monsters, for whatever reason, suddenly became real and out for blood in a mysterious event nicknamed the phenomenon. august flynn is one of these monsters, but he takes no pride in that fact and only wants to feel human. kate harker is the daughter of a ruthless man and is trying her hardest to be ruthless, too, but deep down she knows it’s just an act. their city, verity, stands divided, and kate and august stand on either side - but when august is sent on a mission to befriend kate in the hopes of stopping an all out war, the lines begin to blur. this book rules. august and kate are such interesting and dynamic characters, and the narrative is familiar while still being capable of twisting the story around and taking the feet out from under you in really compelling ways. this savage song is part of the monsters of verity duology, and i can’t wait to dive into how the story continues and finishes.

11/10 sometimes you can judge a book by it’s cover

4a. Our Dark Duet by Victorian Schwab

this is the sequel and finale for this savage song and i’d figure i’d update everyone: fantastic ending, beautiful, showstopping, painful.

12/10 loved it and will definitely be keeping an eye out for schwab’s other books

5. White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

oh boy. okay. white is for witching is about a house, and it is about the women who have lived inside of it. when her mother dies abroad, miranda silver begins to act strangely, and there’s nothing her father or her twin brother seem to be able to do about it. she develops an eating disorder and begins to hear voices in the silver family house, converted to a bed and breakfast by miranda’s dad; and she begins to lose herself in the house and the persistent presence of her family legacy. white is for witching switches perspective dizzingly and disorientingly between miranda, her twin eliot, miranda’s friend from school named ore, and the house itself. this story is a horror story as much as it as a tragedy as much as it is a romance as much as it is a bunch of other things. oyeyemi brings race, sexuality, nationality, and family into this story and forces you not to look away. this book is poetry.

(like i mentioned briefly, this book heavily deals with topics of race and closely follows miranda’s eating disorder. read responsibly, and take care of yourselves)

15/10 this book consumed me and i think i’ll have to read it another 10 more times to feel it properly

6. These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

okay. okay. strap in for a ride. these violent delights is a romeo and juliet style story, taking place in glittering 1920’s shanghai. the city stands divided - not only between the foreign powers encroaching on chinese land, but also between the scarlet gang and the white flowers, who are at the height of a generations-long blood feud. juliette cai, heir to the scarlets, has recently returned from four years abroad and is determined to prove herself ruthless enough to lead. roma montagov, heir to the white flowers, is standing strenuously on his place as next in line due to a slip up four years prior and is desperate to keep hold of his title. and in the midst of juliette and roma’s burning history with each other threatening to combust, an unnatural monster lurks in the waters of shanghai, loosing a madness on scarlets and white flowers alike. this book has it all - scorned ex lovers, political intrigue, deadly monsters, and all set on a glamorous backdrop of the roaring twenties. i absolutely was enraptured by this book and the way it plays around the story of romeo and juliet so well that it easily became it’s own monster, but with the punches and embraces of something classically shakespearan. gong does just an absolutely breathtaking job of fitting this fantastical story amid the larger world of shanghai and the real life historical events that had shaken the city to its core. completely immersive and outstandingly heart racing.

17/10 i was chewing on my fingernails for the last thirty pages and will continue to do so until the sequel is released (our violent ends, 16 nov 21)

7. The Antiques by Kris D’Agostino

you ever heard of the american dysfunctional family story? this is most definitely that. at the same time george westfall’s cancer takes a turn for the worse, a hurricane hits the east coast, and suddenly all at once the issues of his health, the hurricane, and all three of his children’s achingly dysfunctional adult lives are crashing into each other. reunited by george’s death, the westfall siblings have to face their grief, each other, and the problems in their own lives they attempted to put on hold while planning their father’s memorial. this is a nice story about grief and loss and love and somehow finding the humor amidst it all.

(this book does include a depiction of an autistic child who does experience several pretty bad meltdowns due to ignorant people around him not understanding how to cater to his needs. im not an authority on what depictions are or are not harmful, but i do believe this depiction is ultimately loving and well-intended.)

7/10 it made me laugh and cry and was generally one of those books that somehow hit you close to home

8. Fierce Fairytales by Nikita Gill

fierce fairytales is a poetry anthology that reimagines classic fairytales from a modern, feminist viewpoint, acknowledging that the line between hero and villain, monster and damsel, are not as clear cut as the classics try to make you believe. this book also includes illustrations done by the author herself, which i think is really cool. my personal favorite story reimagining was the story of peter pan and captain hook, called ‘boy lost’ which looked at how peter and hook’s relationship began and rotted. all in all, i think this collection of stories had a lot of important things to say and said them in frank, easy to understand poetry and prose.

7/10 beautiful message and pretty prose, but at times a little cliche

and that’s all from the summer! my fall semester starts tomorrow, and overall i feel very good about all the reading i did this summer. i even read four other books not on this list for work! so i definitely feel like i made the most out of my time, and im really glad i was able to read so many stories that made me feel a variety of different things

thanks so much for reading this list, and let me know if you read or have read any of these books and tell me what you think of them!

happy reading<3

#book recs #book rec #book rec list #grasshopper jungle #burn #as meat loves salt #this savage song #monsters of verity #white is for witching #these violent delights #the antiques #fierce fairytales #just like my winter list i did write ever review immediately after finishing the book and i think.#i think here you can really tell what my immediate reactions were based on how the review is written fbfjfjd

56 notes · View notes

zegumi · 4 years ago

Text

sakusa sfw alphabet - pt.1

gn reader | sfw | slight nsfw with k | fluff | hcs

an: decided to split it into two parts so you guys can have this while i finish the rest :)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

i think that sakusa isn't very physically affectionate, because of the whole avoiding germs thing he doesn't feel comfortable with physical contact. but that doesn't mean he can't show affection in other ways

his love language is acts of service so he enjoys doing stuff for you making sure you don't overwork yourself. he likes receiving words of affirmation - being reminded that he's amazing and super cool always makes his day, even if he doesn't show it. imagine sakusa squealing about it when he gets home bc he got a compliment from you

he hates pda, any form of it, the most he'd do his hold your hand but anything more is a big no, it's so bad that people don't even know you're together for a while

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

gossip. this man gossips so much but it's always really fun to listen to - the quiet kids know it all. he definitely bullies you but both of you guys know that he's joking around so it's never a big deal.

irl sakusa doesn't really talk much but he goes all out on his phone, he texts you way more than whatever socially acceptable and it's absolutely hilarious because when you see his chats with anyone else his replies are so dry

i think the friendship starts because you guys bump into eachother one day and he gives you a dirty look, then somehow you bump into eachother again, and finally you guys find out that your parents know eachother. they actually wanted you guys to start dating, but both of you were repulsed by the idea so you guys just ended up becoming really good friends.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

at first he is very hesitant with cuddles and tries to avoid them whether it be consciously or unknowingly.

one day you stayed over really late and fell asleep in his bed, he didn't really feel like moving you so he let you lay there. he was just about to close his eyes and he felt your arms around him, he was internally panicking questioning whether he should push you off or not but you looked so peaceful and couldn't bring himself to do it. he begins to ease into it and starts to realise it isn't so bad.

he doesn't mind the position as long as he's the big spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

settled sakusa, yes or no? i'm not fully sure, because i feel he's stuck between it.

the idea of you guys living together and getting to come home to you everyday is absolutely divine but i think he's scared because he feels it will be suffocating.

all in all sakusa is very domestic, he loves the home life because less people. he's a very very very good cleaner and insists on doing it every time because he feels as though you can't do it good enough - idk if that's a good thing or not. however, his cooking skills are limited to pasta and sauce he can't make anything else - and when it comes to cooking he treats it like a science experiment, measuring it down to the milligram.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

toxic!sakusa

i always hate writing this one but...

sakusa kiyoomi breaks up with you because he feels as though you guys are too different... and the worst part is that he does it by text

its so stupid bc its his fault, he's the one who's barely making an effort yet he makes it seem as if it's your fault

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

sakusa as a husband brainrot

he's scared of commitment so i doubt that it happens quick, i'm going to say late late twenties because he uses his career as an excuse and he feels that he won't be able to fully commit to you while he's busy working and training.

he doesn't want a wedding at all, he'd rather have an expensive honeymoon but if he sees you really want one, he'll give in. he only wants a few people there: friends, family, and the vbc. it ends up being a really pretty garden wedding and its so beautiful - it lasts the entire day and everyone leaves way too late especially atsumu because he was crying.

his proposal would be very simple - you guys go out for dinner one day and he realises how much he loves you and how much he wants you in his life forever then boom marry me?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

sakusa is very gentle to you, the idea of hurting you in any way haunts him.

so he makes sure to never swear at you or raise his voice when he gets mad, and if he ever does hurt you he always makes sure to come back and take the blame.

physically he has a naturally soft presence so he's very gentle when touching and guiding you or moving you out of the way.

emotionally kiyoomi is learning how to deal with your mood swings and sudden changes in behaviour, apart from that he's very good at understanding how you feel and is really good at comforting because he's a good listener.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

such a good hugger because of his lankiness. he doesn't really engulf you he just puts a bit of weight on you which is actually really nice, he enjoys rubbing his hand against your back and if he's feeling like it he starts tickling you whether your ticklish or not.

he doesn't hug much only when he needs to like when you're upset or when he feels clingy.

he really loves your hugs although he would never say that to your face.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

he says it first but he didn't really think of it and that's cute because then you know it came from the heart.

i'd say this happens maybe 4 months into the relationship is this early orr idk but you guys were hanging out on the weekends, as you usually do, and you were screaming the lyrics to Hamilton and he burst out laughing yes he laughs and he just goes i love you

i don't think he realises what he said until you go home that night and he's about to panic, but when you sent him an "i love you" after your usual goodnight text, he knew that there was nothing to worry about

he says the L-word more times than you'd expect but i think its more of a reminder to himself to remember that you really and truly are his greatest love.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

jealous!sakusa brainrot

scenario: this dude is hitting on you and the pick up lines are so bad and unsubtle, sakusa can see you from the corner of his eyes and he is giving a death stare. he can't take it anymore and he stands up and walks right next to you swinging his arm across your shoulder and pulling you closer - "hey, yeah they're taken". the guy starts to get defensive - "yeah, i just wanted to get a number, nothing serious". sakusa is fighting the urge not to swear at him but he rolls his eyes subconsciously - "can you please get out of our way, we have somewhere to be."

and he's so proud of himself for it

he loves you jealous because he thinks it's very hot watching you get all possessive

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses are very soft, gentle and warm. he leaves those kisses which linger way longer than you'd expect. his kisses feel like cold coffee on an autumn afternoon - unfamiliar but homey

his fav places to kiss you is your lips, eyes and hands - things you use all the time but at the end of the day they'll always be on him

he likes to be kisses anywhere but something about you kissing the back of his neck while you cuddle makes him want to scream

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

sakusa hates kids...

when they're all snotty and teary and the fact that you have to change their nappies is a literal nightmare and then vomit !! hell no

but but but if his s/o really wanted one i think he'd give in and surprisingly it turns out way better than expected, getting pushed out of his comfort zone and becoming the best dad ever.

kids also seem to be attracted to him, whenever he goes out the kids just start laughing at him its really cute.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

when he doesn't have practice or somewhere to be sakusa enjoys sleeping in, he probably stays in bed until around 1pm and when he gets up he likes to look at you for a bit. just admiring how cool it is that you're beside him and he has nothing left except a day dull of you

he likes to take a shower first thing in the morning and if he feels okay then he'll let you join, if not he lets you get a start on breakfast. his favourite breakfast is salami and eggs. he really loves it when u cook for him and enjoys helping you although he's pretty useless for anything other than staring at you.

mmm sakusa kiyoomi pt.2 coming idek when, hopefully soon.

@cam6339 i hope you liked this, i'm so sorry for this taking longer than it should have, i've just been going through something atm

reblogs are appreciated <3

#sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa headcanons #haikyuu sakusa #hq headcanons #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #sakusa haikyuu #sakusa deserves way more love

103 notes · View notes

notmrskennedy · 4 years ago

Text

Friendliness

A/N - ha so i just wrote this - no editing we die like men. here’s the alternate ending to my other post Likeability (this one is the more predictable one y’all will probably like whoops) if you’ve read the other one, just skip to the end it’s all the same in the middle

Summary - The Team meets a very unfriendly scientist which Spencer’s taken a fancy to

W/C - 2.9k (whoops)

Warnings - Mild Anatomy/bones/etc discussion, a pinch and change of swearing

----

Luke is holding his stomach in his hands. He could usually pride himself on keeping his cool, keeping his head—and stomach—together during a case. He’d seen enough dead bodies that this shouldn’t have thrown him like he’d just sailed twelve foot waves in a dingy.

But he is, after all, standing over a mass grave. Watching a too giddy scientist dig up the bodies.

You’ve captured everyone’s attention, for various reasons. Rossi is vaguely amused by your joyous shouting of bones and your rat moustached assistant. Luke can’t tear his eyes away from the car wreck—are you supposed to swing bones around like baseball bats? Reid seems more interested in your bad jokes and coveralls than he is in solving the case.

The rat assistant—Stewart Walsh—squeezes between Luke and Reid, scuttling like some kind of diseased turtle. “Doctor Y/L/N!”

You barely stop pouring over the mud covered pelvis in your hands to even acknowledge him.

“I just thought you should know that Dr. Evanston just got here.”

You look up, toss the bone to him, and snort. “Tell him the soil samples are four miles due east from here.”

“What’s wrong with Evanston?” Luke asks to no one in particular it seems, waving Stewart off to run for a group of approaching nerds in coveralls.

Ignoring the question or maybe Luke, you just turn back to your search. Elbow deep in mud, being nice must not have been on the to-do list. Reid leans over, hands in his pockets, and whispers, “Evanston stole one of her research papers. I thought he was going to get his teeth kicked in—“

“Skull!” you holler. Luke isn’t stupid enough to miss the glare reserved for the sheepish Dr. Reid.

He clears his throat. “Thoughts so far, doctor?”

“I’m thinking beetles,” is all you say before turning back to your skull. Luke might not know many scientists, but he doesn’t think that most of them look at human skulls like its the Mona Lisa. Like this fat piece of bone held the answers to the universe inside its empty eye sockets.

“Beetles?” Luke coughs. Rossi just shakes his head. Pretends this isn’t a conversation he’s having. Reid is still studying you like Luke might study infiltration schematics. Stewart runs up, out of breath, very rose coloured.

You’re eyes are sparkling as you wade over to them with a new radius bone in your hands. Everyone bends like they know what they’re looking at and you point along the edge of the bone. “It’s a subtle difference but these bones have been cleaned before being buried. My guess is carrion beetles. They’re very hard workers. And—“ you switch to pointing at the radial head— “minute scoring and kerf marks. These look pretty old, so I’m assuming we’re getting close to the bottom.”

“So our unsub dismembered his victims,” Rossi begins, “then cleaned the pieces?”

You nod and hand off the bone to a very blushing Stewart. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to examine all the bones. There’s nothing definitive yet. What a hobbyist though, right?”

You chuckle to yourself and dive back into fishing out more finger and wrist bones. Luke turns, runs his hands over his face, and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Where did we find her?”

Rossi shrugs, “FBI easter egg hunt.” Luke blinks, while Rossi chuckles at his gullibility. “Come on, the doctor’s the best in the field. Good kid, I can tell.”

“Y/N’s great,” Spencer absently adds on, too busy staring at you. You’re explaining different types of dismemberment to Stewart like you’re discussing the rain. Luke grips onto his stomach just a little tighter.

“Y/N, huh?” Luke teases, momentarily forgetting the unsettling feeling in his gut about you. “You two, uh, friends or something?”

It’s Reid’s turn to stumble. “Yeah, but it’s—we’re just—we’re just—.”

Rossi shakes his head, slaps Reid on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, just friends. So, tell me. Do you talk about dismemberment before or after you make out?”

JJ wants to beg Emily not to make her go down into the basement. You’re down there. She knows it’s childish to be this avoidant—you are just a person after all. A creepy, psychopathic weirdo that makes JJ’s gut churn. She gets why Spencer’s taken to you—shared love of science and random trivia. She does. But that doesn’t mean JJ enjoys the cold ass morgue, smiling along as you ramble. Most of everyone’s limited contact with you has involved random facts and Stewart’s too intimate knowledge of fracture patterns.

There had been ten minutes of reassurance from Emily that you were, in fact, not a horrible person. Ended with JJ making the cold and dark trek down to the morgue. She couldn’t imagine working down here all day long. No one to talk to, no one to strategise with, no where to go. Maybe it suited you. No one would have to listen.

“—don’t know what to do!” echoes across the bottom of the stairwell, the morgue’s doors cracked open. The distress breaks JJ’s heart. Your voice stops her dead in her tracks.

“They don’t hate you,” Spencer’s voice comes after. Gentler, softer. “They—they just don’t know you yet.”

“They don’t want to, Spence!” and JJ winces with the words. It always hurt more when the truth came out in that tone. “I get it! You know? I work with human remains and don’t bring my people skills with me when I’m on the job, but—that shouldn’t matter!”

JJ winces again, tries to ignore how those are nothing short of teary sniffles echoing through her ears. She leans back against the wall and has no idea what to do. Spencer had obviously been down here for hours. Knew you well enough to get the teary truth. What could she do now? Interrupt?

She’d walked into hostage situations less freakin’ stressful than this.

“You’re right,” Spencer soothes, steadfast and strong, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t—“

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. JJ doesn’t want to hear the strangled touch to your voice. Doesn’t want to hear the break. “They’re your friends and I’m just your—“

“Doctor!” Stewart calls and JJ could scream. You’re his what?

At least, it’s as good as any moment to intrude.

“What, Stewart?” you snapped, already broken away from Spencer with wet cheeks and stained glasses. You wipe them off haphazardly with the tail end of Spencer’s sweater sleeve—JJ couldn’t help but smile, even if it’s a little strangled.

Stewart jumps like a wet cat and tosses a bundle of files into your hands. “Beetles.”

One word snatches the tears from your face. Snatches you away from Spencer’s side for one of the dozen skeletons on the tables. There was no reason to think that she’ll get her report from you now. With a rib bone in one hand and contemplation in your features—JJ can’t decide how unnerved she is—you’re a little too concentrated.

Stewart scuttles around you. A little too attentive. A little too cherry tinted. Yep. No reports to be had from either of you. JJ turned to Spencer instead, hoping that maybe he’d be helpful. Plastered up like a billboard, JJ knows that saccharine smile isn’t going to get her anywhere.

“Spence?”

He hums, halfheartedly tearing his eyes away. “Yeah?”

“I need the latest report for Emily, but I don’t think—“

“I’ll—just a second, JJ.” Spencer grins, sugary sweet, and slips away. JJ doesn’t miss how he places a hand on your shoulder as he passes. How you barely even notice that quite intimate contact. She also doesn’t miss how Stewart’s face sours at the action, how his eyes narrow enough that Spencer feasibly should’ve noticed.

Reports in hand a minute later, JJ leans over to Spencer. Elbows him in the arm. “Stewart seems pretty jealous. Any reason for that?”

Spencer shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

Rossi doesn’t have an opinion. Everyone keeps asking—oh Rossi, you’re the wisest of us all, what should we do about poor little Y/N? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. You are just some scientist who is doing a thousand percent better job than any other forensics ‘expert’ he’s had the pleasure of working with.

Your lab doesn’t smell. You don’t smell. Is there anything more to ask for?

But he does get the brute of having to make the trek down to the morgue—god, his knees alone—and receives most of the reports from the not as horrible as everyone thinks Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Who is joyfully humming while squinting over one of the skeleton’s hands.

“Hey, doc,” he calls and you look up at him with an adorable sort of grin. “Got anything new?”

“Sure,” you chirp. Hesitate to wave him over. “If you want the details, that is.”

Rossi shakes his head, pulls up a stool to sit next to you and your subject. “I like to have as much knowledge as I can. You never know what will lead you to your un-sub.”

You settle your elbows on the table, straighten a stray finger bone. The team shouldn’t be worried about you being a psychopath. You’re dedicated, careful, attentive. Rossi hopes that if he ever gets turned into human remains, you’re the one looking over him. There’s been more care put into one skeleton than into his three combined marriages.

“You’re in luck,” you answer, “I’ve got a lot to tell you about our attacker. You’ve got time, right?”

Rossi nods, smiles. “Plenty.”

Penelope still hasn’t met you and that kind of pisses her off. You haven’t made it upstairs once? She flies into some dingy Wyoming hovel of a police station for like a week and no one’s thought to bring you upstairs? Rude.

She’s sitting in JJ’s desk chair, waiting for her and Luke to get back from interviewing a potential lead—some ex-felon who fit your makeshift profile. Reid’s scouring over some boring geographical profile, trying not to get annoyed as she nervously—angrily—rants about the case to him. She knows he’s tuning her out, but her work’s been put on the back burner until someone comes up with something to give her.

There’s only so much a computer can find and she’s no profiler.

It’s about five minutes after Reid snapped and left to get a coffee refill, when she picks up a call from the desk. “Hello?”

Creaking metal and shuddering breathing comes first. “Set the scalpel down” comes second. She swallows, silent, and panicking. What the heck is she supposed to do? Paying attention to those hostage negotiation seminars that she definitely didn’t go to would’ve come in handy right about now.

Said scalpel clatters onto some metal table, followed by a strong, “You really don’t want to do this. Please put the gun down.”

Oh god, this is happening.

“You just—“ a male voice snips, bellowing out, “YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

“I do look at you, Stewart,” you plead just as JJ and Luke clamour through the bullpen’s door. Penelope puts the call on speaker, mutes it, and screams for them.

“I don’t know what to do,” Penelope sobs professionally, “someone’s got a gun.”

JJ runs for Emily’s office while Reid returns heedlessly. Luke puts a soft hand on Penelope’s cold one and squeezes. Newbie or not, it’s appreciated as the man’s voice returns. “I’ve tried for so long to get you to—to just—just look at me! I’ve done so much!”

“I know, Stewart,” you ease and Reid tenses. Nearly drops his coffee. “It’s not your fault. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Stewart sobs; Penelope can only imagine how crazy this kid must be.

“Did you leave all those bodies for me, Stewart?” you question and everyone holds their breath. Luke squeezes harder on her hand. Reid’s twitching like a rabbit’s nose, a death grip on his mug, frozen as a Michigan pond.

Stewart sniffles. Probably nods. Penelope doesn’t know whether to run or sit or cry. She decides it’s probably cry, but instead her fingers start moving to record the call, trace the office origin.

“It was a great puzzle, Stewart, it was really genius. It was a fun case to follow, you know that.” You swallow hard, metal tinkles through the speaker. Please, Penelope begs, don’t let them kill each other. I haven’t met the doctor yet!

“Why did you kill these girls, Stewart?” your voice is so gentle and lulling Penelope almost forgets that she’s listening to you try to save your own life.

“I wanted you to look,” he says, sniffles. “I wanted you. I want you, Y/N. I want you to love me.”

It’s either her computer beeping or someone falling through a table or a gunshot. She doesn’t know. She’s crying too hard to care.

Tara doesn’t know when she started to run—probably just after JJ, Luke, and Reid barrelled passed her by the bathroom shouting about the situation—but she’s almost to the morgue doors, right on Reid’s heels. Lord almighty, she feels so stupid. She’d had enough little one on one chats with Stewart to know he was some sort of psycho in disguise. To know that something was wrong with that kid. No one could last more than three minutes with your grad student assistant without wanting to take an eyeball out—his or theirs it didn’t matter. She’d let herself believe you when you told her that all forensic anthropologists seem like that. That there was nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about her ass.

Luke’s the first to storm the morgue, expecting what Tara is: you, dead, on the floor with Stewart on the brink of killing himself. But they stop and they stare and Reid beams on with the absurd look on your face.

You’re shaking with rage, pointing a gun at a very unconscious, crumpled, bleeding Stewart Walsh. Your teeth are bared in what Tara would consider out of a comic book—ludicrous and of someone who’s completely lost their mind. JJ makes the mistake of asking if you’re alright.

“Alright?” you chirp, feral and ravenous. JJ and Luke shrink back as you shout, “I lived in Honduras for three years! This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s my third fucking kidnapping!”

“T-third?” Luke croaks.

“Third!” you shout again and recklessly set your gun on the table. Spencer grins, which sets you off further. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been accommodating. But this is my fourth psychotic grad student! I fucking swear—!”

Stewart groans—thank god he’s alive—and Spencer, thankfully, rushes forward to catch you before you can take anything else out on the kid. Tara’s heard rumours about mysterious other instances of your being under arrest. Illegal transportation of goods was one thing, police brutality was another. The scalpel sticking out of his knee is bad enough.

She helps Luke haul Stewart to his feet, reeking of desperation and a much needed psych eval. JJ follows close behind, closes the morgue doors behind them. But not before they hear your muffled sobs and Spencer’s smiling.

“You got him, Y/N.”

“No, Spence,” you correct, and Tara can’t help but be proud, “I kicked the snot out of him.”

Emily is barely awake when she sees it. JJ’s soft breathing next to her is lulling by itself, let alone if you add in Rossi’s rhythmic snoring and Luke’s idle whispers of sleep talk. Emily could do with some sleep and maybe a few days off. They could all use a few days off, especially after coming to terms with the fact a grad student had killed 12 women just to get a little action.

From a scientist who freely admitted to enjoying the company of bones over real people.

Alive people.

No wonder Stewart had done what he’d done.

Emily turns in her spot, lays back against the wall of the airplane and the seat. After nearly five decades—she’s never thinking about that again—of plane rides, she can comfortably say she can sleep anywhere. With any amount of noise, or cold, or pain.

But her eyes are accidentally open when she peaks around the seat cushion. Spies the Wild Dr. Reid in his natural habitat, reading some ridiculously long book and…carding his fingers through your hair? He’s got a lock curled up around his finger, gently twisting it as he reads. You’re sleeping—knocked the fuck out—in his lap, gripping loosely onto his leg.

You deserve the sleep, Emily decides with a smile. You’d worked the hardest on the case, up for nearly four days with as little rest as you can manage. How Stewart managed to stay awake enough to attack you is beyond Emily. She’s missed out on a few hours just today and she’s losing the battle with her eyelids.

No one ever asked her opinion of you. Probably didn’t have to. You were not the easiest to like, but you’d captured her respect and a bit of her heart when you’d said at the beginning of the case: “I’m an excavator by trade—I’m at archeological digs most of the time—so it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that these ladies are murder victims. I don’t think I’ll sleep until I’ve got names for them. And maybe the murderer on my table.”

Emily understood the unease, the apprehension. Why everyone was relieved when you’d turned down the plane ride she’d offered you. How they all bit back groans when Emily had insisted. But they’ll have to get used to it, Emily thinks and she settles again. Because they’ll see you again. No doubt about it. The way you’re wrapped up around Spencer, how you hold tighter when the jet bounces a touch, says just that much anyway.

#no editing lads #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

351 notes · View notes

fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

Text

Intellectual Adequacy

Stan hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but he knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Notes: In which one little plot bunny that was preventing me from getting any work done becomes its own rabbit hole.

I genuinely cannot believe that in the six-seven years I've been in this fandom, I've never tried my hand at the fix-it-fic where Stan and Ford just talk it out as teenagers, just like they should've in canon. I've seen a lot of different approaches, but I feel like I've yet to see one that tackles it from the perspective of Stan's own battle with his self-worth, rather than the actions he or Ford have already taken.

AO3

Stan hates the principal’s office more than anywhere else in the world.

He swears, he’s called down every other week for something that’s not even his fault. He punched Crampelter in the nose for harassing some poor freshman? Principal’s office. He talks back to a teacher calling his classmate stupid for forgetting an “obvious” geometry equation? Principal’s office. He accidentally drops his pencil during an exam and bends over to pick it up? He must be cheating. Principal’s office.

If you asked him, the whole idea of sending kids to the principal’s office is pointless to begin with. Oh, you did something bad, and now we’re gonna make the big man in charge tell your mommy and daddy? How old do these people think they are?

Stan wishes he could say that this time is okay because they’re not even talking to him. They’re talking up a storm to Ford in there about another college scholarship and all the reasons why he and he alone would be the perfect candidate for some random school all the way out in California

But it’s not okay, because the longer Stan sits in the dumb waiting room the more he’s starting to feel like chopped liver. They’ve been in there for at least five minutes with no sign of stopping anytime soon, but every time Stan asks the secretary if he can just go back to class already she dismisses him with a wave of her hand and it’ll be your turn soon, sit back down.

He’s thinking of just sneaking out the next time the secretary buries her nose back into her magazine. It’s simple: just wait for her to pull it out from her desk, sneak by as quick as he can, and slip out the door and back to class before she can even notice he’s gone.

He stands from his chair, pretending to stretch and preparing to execute, but freezes solid when he hears his name being spoken from within the principal’s office.

“…What about our little free spirit Stanley?”

It’s Ma, and whatever it is they’re talking about in there, she isn’t happy about it. Frowning, Stan glances over at the secretary to make sure that she isn’t staring at him, and presses his ear to the office door to listen to their conversation more carefully.

The principal laughs in response. “That clown? At this rate he’ll be lucky if he graduates high school”

Stan’s taken aback by the harsh choice of words, but if he knows Ford, then he won’t just sit there and let the principal talk about him like that. He presses his ear further into the door, waiting for Ford to interrupt the principal’s rambling about how he’s never going to amount to anything with you just don’t know him like I do, or something along those lines, but it never comes.

Not a single interjection that…anything he’s saying is wrong. Not from Pa, not from Ford….and not even from Ma.

They don’t…all really believe that, right?

There has to be something else he’s missing. He bets they’re defending his honor right now, and the reason they’re not making a big scene about it is because they’re in public.

Yeah.

He’s got nothing to worry about.

He peeks into the window, expecting to see Ma glaring daggers into the principal, or Ford silently cursing him out behind his back, but what he’s met with is so much worse. Ma and Pa are exchanging warm smiles, and Ford is frantically shaking hands with the principal, beaming brighter than Stan’s ever seen in his entire life.

Matter of fact, Stan’s not sure he’s ever seen any of them look so happy in his entire life.

He’s worthless, he’ll never go anywhere, and they’re all smiling about it.

Stan’s heart drops to his stomach, and he slides to the floor to join it.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? Were they expecting him to listen in on their conversation? Is this their cruel workaround of telling him he’ll never amount to shit?

He sighs.

He stays there on the cold tiled floor for what feels like hours, contemplating all the times he’s been called dumb, or stupid, or a terrible influence on his brother. All of those times when he could brush it off just because it was coming from someone he didn’t care about.

But worthless?

Behind his back, spoken directly to people he loves, and they won’t even bother to defend him?

That one’s new, and if Stan is going to be completely honest with himself, it’s much harder to brush off his shoulders than all those other times.

Stan doesn’t even notice the office door opening until it nearly smacks him in the back of his head. He quickly jumps to his feet and brushes himself off, pretending the best that he can that he wasn’t just eavesdropping on them for the past ten minutes.

“Stanley!” Ford comes bursting out of the room, his grin threatening to split his face in two. “I just received the most incredible news! The admissions team at West Coast Tech heard about my science fair project, and-”

The beam suddenly slips from his face, replaced with some sort of mix of confusion and concern. “Is...Something wrong?”

Stan rubs at his eyes to make sure he hadn’t started tearing up without realizing it, but no, his eyes are bone dry.

Curse Ford’s stupid ability to read his mind.

Stan covers up the gesture of rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, and stretches his arms in the air. “Nothing except you taking forever in there” he flashes a fake smile easily. “Talk about a blabbermouth, am I right?” Stan gestures towards the principal with his thumb.

Ford laughs, and returns his gaze to the pamphlet in his hands. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think he’s so bad”

Stan opens his mouth to quip back, but Ford doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anymore. He’s just staring at that dumb pamphlet, his grin slowly but surely returning to his face again.

Instead, Stan shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

~~~

Stan feels like he’s in a haze for the rest of the day. Even when he tries to focus on class to take his mind off of things and redirect it on anything else, he can’t get his mind to stick. Not even final period gym class can save him, which is really saying something, because the gymnasium is usually the one place where he thrives.

Worthless.

The word won’t stop bouncing around in his skull, hitting him where he’s most sensitive.

It doesn’t help a thing that Ford is dead silent on their walk home from school. He’s usually chatting up a storm to Stan about stuff he doesn’t really understand, and under normal circumstances Stan can’t wait to get home so he can bury his head in his pillow and drown out the sound of Ford’s babbling.

But today he’s not even looking in Stan’s direction, just burying his nose in the West Coast Tech brochure with stars in his eyes, and now Stan wants nothing more than to hear Ford babbling on about his advanced physics classes.

It’s almost insulting.

Stan sighs, and lightly taps on Ford’s shoulder to catch his attention. “Can we talk?”

“Hmm?” Ford blinks, like he needs a few moments to readjust to reality. “Oh! Of course. I was actually planning on asking you the same thing” he places the brochure in his pocket. “Same place as always?”

Stan nods. “Same place as always”.

It’s a quick change of direction and a shortcut to the beach before they find themselves on their old swing set. By now they’re both too heavy to use it properly without a risk of snapping it, but they still find it’s a good place to go when they just need to get away and talk.

“You’re not really thinking of going to that stuffy old school, are you?” Stan asks as soon as Ford sits on the swing beside him. “They’ve gotta be crazy if they think four more years of essays and exams are better lookin’ than tanned babes and gold chains. We’re so close to finishing up the Stan-O-War. Soon as graduation rolls around we’re outta here, just like we always promised”.

Ford chuckles. “That is a nice thought, but…” he pulls the brochure out of his pocket again, and unfolds it for Stan to see. “You have to understand that I can’t just pass up an opportunity like this. Maybe I don’t need a degree from any old state school, but this is West Coast Tech we’re talking about!” he beams, the stars returning to his eyes. “They’ve got cutting edge technology and multidimensional paradigm theory”

Stan rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but admit to himself it’s nice to have his brother back again after an entire day of radio silence.

“Beep boop, giant nerd robot oncoming” Stan punches Ford in the arm.

Ford’s grin only widens. “I figured you’d say that, but it’s too late to change my mind. The head of admissions already flew in this morning, and with my go-ahead they’re going to check out my science fair project later tonight and let me know then and there if they want me at their school”

“Well that seems kind of harsh” Stan quips. “What if they say no?”

Ford shrugs. “Well, then it’s like you said. If they don’t want me, you and I sail off on the Stan-O War and never look back”.

Stan frowns at the strong emphasis on if. He really thinks he’s going to get this, doesn’t he? Stan can’t exactly blame him when he’s been the reigning valedictorian of their class every year since they were kids.

“And if they say yes?”

Ford grins. “Well, then you better visit me on the other side of the country” he punches Stan in the shoulder, and stands to his feet without saying another word.

Stan can’t bring himself to join him. He knows that Ford didn’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help feel wounded by his brother’s implication that while he’s off in California having the time of his life, Stan’s still gonna be stuck living with their parents in New Jersey.

It’s just like their principal said. He’ll never amount to anything anyway, so why wouldn’t he stay in New Jersey? Where else would a worthless piece of shit like him end up?

Stan shifts on his swing and watches as Ford walks away, and he can’t help but wonder just how much of the principal’s tangent that Ford believed.

All of it?

Some of it?

Had Ford even been listening to what he said at all?

As he continues to watch his brother walk away, he can’t help the feeling in his gut that he has to know. He hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but Stan knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Ford says, turning around to face him. Stan suddenly finds himself very aware of his heart loudly pounding against his chest, but he forces himself to squash that down. He’s never felt shy or anxious about asking his brother anything, and he sure as hell isn’t letting that start now.

“You don’t…uh,” he swallows. “You don’t think I’m…worthless, do you?”

Ford looks appalled. He neatly folds the brochure back into his pocket and starts walking- no, jogging, almost sprinting back to the swing set. He pauses in front of the empty swing beside Stan for a moment, like he’s debating whether he should sit down or not, but eventually he shakes his head and sits down anyway.

“What on earth makes you say that?” There’s a hint of anger to his tone, but Stan’s not entirely convinced it’s directed at him. “Why would I think you’re worthless? You’re my twin brother! What could’ve possibly put the idea in your head that I thought that?”

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his head screaming at him to back out, brush it off with a joke and have this conversation later, but there’s an even louder voice shouting at him that it needs to be had now.

Stan sighs. “I…overheard everything in the principal’s office today”

Ford blinks, like he doesn’t understand a word that Stan just said. “About…West Coast Tech? Is this because you’re afraid that I’ll get in, but you know you won’t because you’re not even interested in applying anyway, but you know you’re going to miss me, and you’re not sure if you can handle-”

“About me, Sixer!” Stan shouts, and tries his damn hardest to ignore the waver in his voice. “He practically called me a useless piece of shit directly to Ma and Pa and neither of them said a word about it!” He scrubs his hands down his face because he’s not choking up, not over something so pointless and stupid. “You’re going to travel the world and become the smartest person the scientific community has ever seen, or whatever, but me? Apparently I’ll always be stuck here in New Jersey to pick up after everyone else’s messes, because that’s all I’m ever good for”

Stan buries his face in his hands. He hadn’t meant to blow up, and he certainly hadn’t meant to direct his anger at Ford, but he just feels so hopeless, and he’s the only one around who’s willing to listen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ford returned with anger of his own, or told him off for being selfish, or even if he just decided to stand up and walk away from him for being such an embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Stan is so convinced that he must’ve driven Ford away that when he feels a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumps a mile out of his skin. When he finally pulls his hands out of his face to meet Ford’s eyes, his face is flushed pink and he looks…embarrassed.

“Stan, I had no idea, I…” he awkwardly pulls his hand away and grips tightly to the chain of his swing. Stan can see Ford’s face shifting through about a dozen different emotions at once. “I…must’ve been too focused on everything else to realize he was saying those things about you.” He shakes his head. “I know it’s not an excuse, but…” he sighs. “I’m sorry”

There’s another bout of silence between them. Stan’s half-expecting that to be the end of it, and for Ford to walk away without another word.

But Ford breaks the silence with a sigh, and when Stan glances over at him he’s staring down at the ground.

“If it’s any consolation...you’re much smarter than me in a lot more places than you realize”

Okay, now Stan has to laugh. “Okay, now you’re being too nice to me. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better”

“I’m serious!” Ford’s cheeks flush pink again, and he adjusts his glasses before returning his gaze towards Stan. “There’s actually been a fascinating number of studies about intelligence lately, and, well…” Ford’s face is turning redder by the minute, Stan swears. “It turns out that…there’s more than one type”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re losing me here, Sixer”

“Well, you see, I thrive in academic intelligence. Math, science, history, you know, school stuff. That’s the most commonly known type of intelligence because a lot of our formative years are based on it”

Stan doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrow even further.

“But,” Ford continues quickly, “They’ve also made discoveries about the existence of social intelligence”

“Social?” Stan blinks, suddenly finding himself significantly more interested. “You mean like talking to people and stuff?”

Ford nods. “Precisely. They say people with high social intelligence are much better at picking up on social cues, and can make friends with others much easier than those with lower social intelligence.” Ford kicks at the sand. “The reason social intelligence hasn’t been recognized is because it’s often mistaken for having a friendly personality”. His face flushes pink again, like he’s afraid he said the wrong thing. “Not that a person can’t have both, but…”

Stan smirks, nudging at Ford with his elbow. “Stanford Pines, are you calling your good-for-nothing brother intelligent?” He teases, but can’t help the genuine smile creeping to his face.

“Think about it!” Ford throws an arm into the air, the other one tightly gripped on the swing to prevent himself from falling off. “Every time Ma and Pa leave us in charge of the shop so they can go to Atlantic City for the weekend, who’s the one bringing in all the customers? Who’s the one selling out our daily stock less than two hours after we’re open? You are, Stan, just by being yourself. You know how to persuade people into buying our stock at ten times the listed price.”

“You can’t learn that from twelve years of public school. They can try to teach you, but at the end of the day it’s all about your ability to connect with people” Ford rubs at his arm. “I’ve tried teaching myself those kinds of tricks for years, but at the end of the day…” he shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to catch up.” He smiles. “I raise my white flag to you, Stan. You’ve outsmarted the smartest brother in the world”

Stan chuckles. “Try telling that to Principal Comb-over. He hears you saying the so-called dumbest clown in the entire school system is smarter than you and he’s going to cart you away to the loony bin”

Ford laughs. “You know, now that I think about it, there may actually be a way to tell him off for what he said about you and get away with it scott-free”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”

Ford smirks. “I think you should try to graduate out of spite”

Stan’s not sure he follows. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, think about it” Ford stands from his swing and begins to pace back and forth. “The principal called both of us down even though he only wanted to speak to me, and then he talked shit about you even though he knew you were sitting right outside his door?” he pauses in his pacing. “Stan, he knew that you could hear him. Maybe he didn’t intend for you to listen in when he was talking to Ma and Pa about my scholarship opportunity, but he knew you’d be listening the moment you were brought up in the conversation”

That’s…true. Stan was just about to sneak out before he heard them say his name.

“He’s expecting you to fail, and he wants to put it in everyone else’s head too. He thinks it’s the easy way out, because if you choose to fail out on your own than he doesn’t have to take responsibility for being such a shitty educator. It gives him the chance to say look how he didn’t even try instead of look at how we failed him.”

“But if you proved him wrong? Imagine the look on his face when he has to be the one to place that diploma in your hand. Imagine him having to look you dead in the eyes and tell you he’s proud of you. You’ll know he’s speaking bullshit, but he knows he can’t talk shit about you anymore without making himself look bad.” Ford smirks. “Matter of fact, imagine the looks on the faces of everyone who’s ever doubted you walking across that stage. Pa alone is gonna have a heart attack”

Ford’s smile softens. “I already know that you’re much smarter than you’re given credit for, and I think it’s about time that everyone else recognizes that too”.

Stan’s cheeks burn red, and he shyly kicks at the sand. “Heh, thanks. I appreciate it.” He says. “But even if I did manage to graduate, what am I supposed to do with a high school diploma? Every job application I’ve been skinning through recently says college, college, college”

“Well…” Ford taps at his chin. “Then why not go out for college?”

Okay, now he’s taking things too far.

“Pardon?” Stan mocks, because if Ford thinks that Stan’s going to willingly take four more years of classes than maybe he should be carted away to a loony bin.

“I’m serious!” Ford blushes. “Maybe not a high intensity school like West Coast Tech, but college is so much more freeing than high school, Stanley. It’s not class after class on subjects that other people tell you to take. It’s personalized. If you hate science class so much, you never have to take another science class again”

Ford’s blush darkens. “I know that school is a big drag and all, but if you asked me?” he averts his gaze. “I think you’d really benefit from business school. Charisma and social intelligence is the number one thing that big name businesses are looking for, and I know you’re filled to the brim with both. Ultimately it is your decision, but…” Ford fiddles with his thumbs. “Just…just consider it, okay?”

For a brief moment, Stan just wants to burst out into hysterical laughter. Ford’s been offered the opportunity of a lifetime at one of the best schools in the country, and he’s still taking the time to help out his good-for-nothing brother who’s been cheating off of his exams for the past ten years.

Instead he settles for a roll of his eyes. “Alright, Professor Poindexter, I’ll consider it”

Ford giggles at that, and for a few moments neither of them says anything, watching the waves gently lapping on the beach in the short distance. It’s a comfortable silence, a reassuring sort of feeling that Stan hasn’t felt in a long time.

The frantic beeping of Pa’s wristwatch interrupts them, and both boys flinch at the sound in unison. For a moment Stan is worried that Pa’s standing behind them having heard every word, but when he glances over at Ford, he sees him rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal that he’s the one wearing the watch, and clicks the alarm off.

“Pa made me borrow it so I wouldn’t be late for the presentation with the school board” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “I’ll probably give it back as soon as I get home tonight”

Stan smirks. “You still hate the sound of that thing too, huh?”

“I can still hear it in my nightmares,” Ford exaggerates, his eyes going wide, and the twins burst into laughter as they both stand from the swings and stretch their arms and legs to wake them up from sitting for so long.

Ford wipes at his eye as he fidgets with the wristwatch. “So…do you think you’re going to be okay?”

That in itself is a pretty loaded question that could take him all night to answer, but all things considering…

“Yeah,” Stan smiles. “I think I’ll be okay”

Ford smiles back, and gestures with his thumb towards the direction of the pawn shop. “Then I’m going to head home and get ready for my presentation. You coming?”

Stan shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay out here and just…watch the ocean for a little while longer”

Ford’s smile softens, but he doesn’t say anything else. He turns heel and walks back towards the house, and it feels as though a giant weight has just been lifted off of Stan’s chest. He glances back to watch Ford go, but finds comfort in the feeling that he feels nothing at all.

~~~

Nearly five hours later, Stan sits at home, watching television on the couch to pass the time. Just out of the corner of his eye he sees Ford slip into the kitchen and gently click the door closed. Stan shuts the TV off, and spins around on the couch to face his brother.

“Well?” Stan asks, though he knows he doesn’t even need to bother asking, given that Ford looks like he’s about to burst. With a shaking hand, Ford reaches into his pocket and pulls out a glinting white envelope.

If he’s trying to keep an air of mystery about it, he’s doing a really bad job, because all at once his composure breaks and the smile that spreads across his face looks as though it could burn out the sun.

“They loved me!” He shouts, excitedly pacing the floor. “They told me they’ve never seen anyone else like me!”

His smile is so contagious that it hurts.

Perhaps another day, in another timeline, Stan would take offense to Ford’s excitement to bounce off to the other end of the country without him. Perhaps he’d even lash out, or do something he would’ve immediately regretted.

But here and now, Stan couldn’t be happier for his brother if he tried.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #stan pines #ford pines

104 notes · View notes

noyasboxdye · 4 years ago

Text

Waiting- Tanaka Ryunosuke

Notes: I can't really say to much with out telling the story so just have fun reading.

Pairing: Tanaka Ryunosuke x Male! Reader

WARNINGS: none it’s fluff

You and Tanaka have been best friends since you were in about second grade. He's always been there for you didn't matter what the situation was. He was your life line and you were his. So when you started distancing yourself from him he took it really hard. It's not like you were trying to hurt him you thought it was the best option for him. He was focusing on volleyball and his grades so he could get into his dream school and you were a 'distraction'.

But after two painfully slow and extremely boring weeks he had, had enough. He decided that he was going to find you and talk to you and get you to talk back since the last time he tried to talk to you, you didn't say anything you only stared at the floor while trying to move around him.

He was over it. Yes he had his friends like Noya, Hinata, and the others but it just wasn't the same. He needs you, you're his best friend the longest you guys have gone with out seeing each other was three and a half days because he went on a family bonding camping trip but even then he still called everyday.

Tanaka was fidgeting around in his seat staring at the clock as if it'll somehow magically move faster. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. But finally after 50 minutes of listening to his Spanish teacher explain the rules for his assignment the bell finally rang for lunch, he could finally try and talk to you and see why you've been avoiding him. He thought you just needed space but usually that only last like a school day and then you both FaceTime or text all night after finishing homework.

Quickly standing up putting his books in his next class so he doesn't have to rush getting his things out of his locker he finally makes it down the flights of stairs and speed walks to the doors of the lunch room waiting for you to pass by him.

Finally seeing you be quickly grabs your arm takes you under the stair case and traps you into the corner not giving you a chance to escape. You know you can't but you try anyways.

'jeez dude really don't want to see me that bad'

"Could you move please" you mumble while looking at the floor. "No. " he says while crossing his arms. "What?" you say as you look up. "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're avoiding me !" he says with an annoyingly determined look on his face. "I'm not avoiding you... " you mumble looking back down. "Yes you are dude we literally haven't talked in or out of school in two weeks" he says holding up his fingers showing you the number two. "Well -... I've.. been busy more or less. " you say looking down again. "No you haven't I know your schedule like the back of my hand and you know mines! You're avoiding me so tell me why and no lying!" he says like a parent scolding their kid. He waits for you to reply and you just stand there and don't say anything. You thought maybe if you just waited for the bell to ring everything would be fine like last time. But Tanaka wouldn't let you do that again, he was going to get you to talk one way or another even if that meant following you home and staying there.

"You can't just stand here and not say anything. I'm gonna get you to talk whether you like it or not. " You can tell that he's not going to let you go so you just decide to tell him. "...go- fine..." " Yes " he says doing a little victory dance. "Well...what...?" you say trying to stall because you really didn't want him to know that you liked him and what not, you thought it was embarrassing because not only did you not know how to control yourself around him but he was straight. You felt like an idiot but now's not really the time for sulking with your huge math test coming up. " Why are you avoiding me" he asked getting straight to the point. You knew it was coming but you were still kind of thrown off by it. Slightly rolling your eyes you say "I told you I've been -" he cuts you off, "Busy yeah yeah. Now what's actually going on, are you like mad at me or something what did I do? " he said getting a little sad at the thought of his best friend being mad at him for unknown reasons. "No, not at all I could never be mad at you bubs." you say feeling guilty. "So then what?" he says. He was getting impatient there was only so much time before you both had to go to class and he didn't know if he would get an opportunity to talk to you like this again any time soon. "Uhm- I'm giving you space because you said that you we're trying to get in to that volleyball program for your college application (idk if it's actually called that I just pulled that out of my ass lol) I didn't want to be a distraction." you said regretting telling him the truth. "You're not a distraction (M/N) I don't know why you thought that." he said getting closer. "Well didn't you bomb your test because of me..." you said like it was obvious. "What-... no. I bombed my test because I didn't study and I ended up falling asleep, but that was because I was binge watching assassination classroom with Noya. We gave up on studying so I wasn't prepared either way.

You were relieved. I mean you still were going to avoid him because you're like head over heals for this boy but still at least you know that him failing wasn't your fault. Well now we have to think of another excuse instead of you liking him, maybe you'll try out for a sport. Maybe swim that seemed like a good sport ran from 3:40- 6:00 then your schedule would be full and then Tanaka would leave you alone.

"So can we hang out today? You don't have anything to do." he says with a hopeful glint in his eye. You couldn't say no not while he was looking at you like that and you just cleared things up... kind of. "Yeah sure! Where do you want to go the movies maybe? I don't have any homework today." you say while thinking about how much you missed him. "Yeah sure and we can get food after!" Tanaka says jumping a little while you giggled at his movements. "Ok meet me outside after school we can drop off our bookbags at my house and then we'll go." he says while smiling with the faintest blush on his cheeks. "Ok see you after science.

••time skip>••

The school day was over and you were at your locker grabbing the things that you need to take home. You grabbed your things and walked out to the front of the school to meet up with Tanaka. You really didn't know how you were going to make it through this afternoon and probably evening with him. "(M/N)" you turned your head towards Tanaka and smiled. He really did make you happy. You hated that you couldn't be around him with out blushing, getting flustered, or over thinking. He was perfect. He really could do everything and flawlessly.

"Hey Tanaka!" you say while running up to him. "So where do you want to go? Still want to do the movies?" he asks looking at you. "Yeah sure I'm up up for the movies. You want to eat before or after?" you ask. "Uhm-... I don't really care we can do what you want to." he says rubbing the back of his neck. "Ok maybe we can eat before and then watch the movie. What do you want to watch?" you say kind of unsure about yourself. "Maybe we can go see (F/M)?" he asks while you guys turn down his street. "Oh yeah sure."

It had felt like so long since you both hung out. It was refreshing being with him again he was like a breath of fresh air for you after stressing about homework, grades, projects, and things like that- basically school as a whole- he was like reminder that everything was going to be ok and that its fine to take breaks (you tend to over work yourself). It was one of the reasons you liked him.

"Come on!" he says as he turns on to his lawn. You hum in acknowledgement as you follow him. "You can put your stuff in my room. Do you want or need anything before we go?" he asks opening his door and walking towards his closet. "No, thanks though." you say putting your bag down next to his bed. "Ok well I'm gonna change my shirt and grab a jacket." he says taking his shirt off and you blushing like a mad man. "Take one of my hoodies if you want I know how easily you get cold and how cold it can get in the movie theatres." he says looking for a new shirt. "Oh ok thanks dude." you say walking towards his closet and going through it finding one that you liked. "He should we pack a bag? Like with blankets and our own snacks and stuff." he says putting on his signature cologne and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah I think we should. I don't want to pay 20 dollars for 3 boxes of candy when I can get them for four at dollar tree." you say while finally finding a hoodie that you liked and putting it on.

You were going insane while packing the bag. every time you moved his hoodie scent made its way into your nose, you absolutely loved it. The nice smooth vanilla scent with hints of honey and mint it was paradise for you. You were seconds away from loosing it and squealing. I mean like you wouldn't because you would probably never be able to look at him again but still you get the point. He dumped a whole bunch of candy on the bed and said "there now we don't need to buy candy" while looking proud of himself. "Holy crap dude where'd you get this?!" his mom never let him eat a lot of candy so him having this much surprised you. "Secret stash. I've been saving it and buy it then not eating it. Specifically for occasions like this so I don't have to spend as much money.

You put the candy at the bottom of the bag then blankets, your chargers, and water bottles for the both of you. He walks up to the door and sticks his head out of it "SAEKO!!" you flinched slightly being caught off guard. "WHAT" you didn't even know she was home. "TAKE ME AND (M/N) TO THE MOVIES" he says sticking his head back in the room. "Are we sure that's the safest option?" you say feeling unsure about being in the same car as her while it's on and she's in the drivers seat. "I mean no it's not but like it'll be fine and plus would you really rather walk almost twenty minutes with this bag than let her drive us?" he says while zipping up the bag and and putting it on his arm. "Yes. Yes I would rather walk than be in a car with her driving have you seen her drive?" you say while laughing a bit. "Um no slandering my driving its immaculate." she says walking in. "Shawty bae... now you know that that's a damn lie." you say holding in laughter. "Well I think her driving is fine" Tanaka says grabbing you and Saeko's hand and walking out of his room into the kitchen to fill up the water bottle's.

Time skip

After telling Saeko thank for taking you too to the mall you both get out of the car and go inside. You still had time before the movie and were both really hungry you went to (F/R) waited for the waiters to take you to your seat. "So what are you gonna get?" Tanaka says finally breaking the silence. "Oh um I don't know maybe (F/F) still trying to decide." you say looking up at him from your phone putting it away from texting your (P/F) that you might bee home later than usual since it was already starting to get a little dark out. "Hello, I can take you to your table now" the waiter says as Tanaka goes to stand next to you an grab your hand. "Ok thank you." you say blush at the contact, it seemed like he was blushing but you brushed it off as the lighting of the restaurants lighting. You sit in your seat and say a quick thank you to the waiter as he handed you your menu. "Hi my name is Mafuyu and I'll be your waiter today, can I start you off with some drinks or do you need a minute?" the waiter says smiling and pulling out his notepad. "You can go first." Tanaka says putting his menu down with a small smile and a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Tanaka's POV

I'm going to confess to them tonight. I was suppose to a while back but I chickened out and then they started avoiding me so that made it harder, but I'm for sure going to do it tonight no matter what. I told Noya so he knows, he said that if they rejected me that he had ice cream, candy, and Attack on Titan ready for me to come over all I had to do was be there.

I think they like me back I could be wrong though they don't really talk about there emotions and stuff. But I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at reading them. They said yes to hanging out which I thought they were going to say no to but didn't which is good so phase one of the plan is complete. Next phase is to make them get that happy glow that they get when they're really happy and comfortable around someone. I really like when that happens they're like-...ok you know those super cute, calming and aesthetic cottage core videos on tiktok where they like wear the pretty dresses and the elf ears and are really pretty and they make you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside? Yeah that's what they're like but better.

The waiter guy is flirting with them you can tell. (M/N) probably just doesn't care or isn't thinking of it in that way. "-naka, Tanaka! Jeez dude you were like super zoned out, anyways what do you want to drink?" (M/N) says while giggling. "Oh sorry a loganberry will be fine." I'm literally so freaking embarrassed right now what the fuck.

"Would you like bread while you wait?" Mafuyu says looking up from his notepad. "Do you want bread" (M/N) asks looking down from the waiter to me. "Yeah we can get bread I don't really care" I say as I shrug my shoulders. "Ok then yea we'll get bread." (M/N) smiles at the waiter as he says that, god they're so pretty what the fuck. "Alrighty~... I'm gonna go get your drinks and bread and I'll be right back. "Ok thank you." (M/N) says going to look back at me. I look up from the table and see them blushing. I wonder if they think that Mafuyu guy is cute, maybe I mean he wasn't ugly he was pretty good looking and it did seem like he had a bit of muscle not a lot but enough to be able to throw a good punch. I notice (M/N) look up at me and "Thank you..." he said. What. "Why're you saying thank you" this really wasn't making sense I didn't even do anything for them to say thanks... well not that I know of. "For following me around and not letting me avoid you. I appreciate it, didn't know how much I missed you." I'm going to combust. Holy shat! They- He- I- HFRNJRSBRB!!! I probably look like a fire hydrant right now. "Oh- um you're welcome! It no big deal really I just missed you and didn't know what was going on hahah." I sound so awkward oh my god I'm embarrassing myself. Ok Noya said be fresh cut swag.

"Here are your drinks, bread, and butter. Are you ready to order or do you need a minute?" the waiters back I really don't like him. He keeps flirting with (M/N) and I mean like its not like (M/N) knows, and they would probably say no if he just asked like randomly and (M/N) isn't like prepared or anything or like doesn't know he's flirting with him. "-and what would you like to order sir?" I look up at the waiter, I mean if (M/N) did date him I could see why he's pretty cute and seems nice but that's also his job as a waiter so- "can I get a bacon cheese burger with a side of fries, Please." I smile at him as he writes my order down. "Is there anything else you'd like" Mafuyu asks looking in-between the both of us. "Yes, please instead of putting the pickles on the sandwich can you put them in a little container please. Oh- and can I get blue cheese with my burger. If it's not to much." I say. "Oh absolutely no problem, is that all?" he says writing in his notepad.

"Is that all?" Mafuyu says looking at (M/N). "No I don't want anything else, thank you though!" (M/N) says smiling and going to take a sip out of his drink. Mafuyu walks away putting his notepad in his pocket. "So what time does the movie start?" (M/N) says going to grab a biscuit and put butter on it. (sorry if you don't eat bread lol) "It starts at 9:30... it's 7:00 now so we should have enough time to walk around a little before the movies if you want." I say while eating my bread. "Ok." its kind of awkward right now... I'm just going to- "I'm washing me and clothes" I say while looking down. "To put a fucking story short I shoved a whole bag a jelly beans up my ass, an' it's 24 hours later an' I ain't find nun yet" He said looking up at me grinning widely. "You think those jelly beans ever come outta her ass?" I say looking back at him. "I don't know but I'm finna try and find out" (M/N) grabs his phone and sits there for like five minutes. "So- I can't find anything on it but I think she did...because she could like shat them out or like go to the doctors... I don't know- anyways...-" he says looking up from his phone.

Mafuyu comes up to the table asks if we want more bread and gives something to (M/N) smiles and walks away. "Oh my fucking god what fuck-... uhm... shit." (M/N) says with a panicked look on his face as he turns to I'm assuming look for Mafuyu. "What- what's wrong?!" I say worried. "Uhm- fuck-... he gave me his number! And I like someone!...What the fuck do I do with this?!" he says whispering a little. " I mean I don't fucking know give it back maybe...? You could always throw it away if you don't want to tell him." I say trying not to think about how I'm basically fuming at the fact that 1.) Mafuyu FUCKING hit on him!! 2.) he likes someone and I'm like 85% sure it's not me ugghhh. "Well obviously I can't do that, that's like mean! I'll just tell him- yeah it'll be fine just- tell him." he says starting to calm down and get blush a little. "Yeah and plus if he's a douche I can always fight him.." I say starting to feel a little better about the situation.

Time skip about 15 minutes

"Hello! Here is your (F/F) and here, is your burger with... the.. sides." he says sticking his tongue out looking determined. "Hey um thank you so much for the meal and stuff, but I'm... not interested so... take your number back." (M/N) says while slightly cringing and flinching when Mafuyu chuckles to himself. " oh my god no- please this is so embarrassing crap. Uhm I wasn't trying to flirt I just wanted to be your friend but didn't know how to ask shit- I should've put context- fuck-... I have a boyfriend.. plus I'm not a home wrecker I wouldn't try to ruin your date with your boyfriend please I feel so stupid. I'm sorry jesus christ I'm dumb." Oh- well it's fine... sorry haheh. And we aren't dating he's straight." (M/N) says smile getting smaller a bit. "Oh I'm so sorry jeez you both just were looking at each other like you were in love and he was holding your hand when you first walked in so I just assumed sorry-...! "Oh no it's fine we get it a lot anyways it's kind of funny to me.

Damn, that shit hurt. Yeah I'm totally going to tell him when the night's over because friend zoning dude really ?

After everything cleared up with Mafuyu we ate our food and left. We were walking around the mall going into different stores and getting things. "You want it?" Tanaka says noticing (M/N) looking at a vinyl by (F/S). "Oh umm yeah, but I don't have the money for it." you say looking down and going to look at different clothes. "Okay." he says going to look for new beanies. After walking around for about 15 minutes you both decided that you were ready to leave and start walking towards the movie theatre. You and Tanaka walked up to the cash register. Putting your things on the counter while the cashier scans your stuff. After the cashier finishes ringing your stuff up and Tanaka put his things down he did a awkward speed walk straight towards the section of vinyl's grabbed the one he was looking for and ran back.

"Sorry just had to grab one more thing." he says putting the vinyl you were telling him about earlier on the counter and pulling out his wallet. "No problem sir" the cashier says continuing to scan his things. Putting the clothes, vinyl's, and other random things in bags Tanaka grabs his bags off of the counter and bids a good day and farewell to the cashier, grabbing your hand and practically skipping out of the store. Getting on the escalader and rummaging in his bag he grabs the vinyl and pushes it towards you. "What?" you say confused on what to do with the 1931 edition of a CD. "Here. Take it. It's yours, you were saying how you wanted it but didn't have the money so... I got it for you. So take it." he says pushing the vinyl further towards you.

"You really shouldn't have. It was honestly no big deal like I would've been fine without it, I would've just bought it another time honestly-." you say rambling a bit. "Hey it's fine! I wanted to so don't worry about it too much." he says rubbing the back of his neck with a faint blush on cheeks. "Oh um ok... thanks then..!" you say looking at the floor while feeling your cheeks warm up. "Yeah it's no problem!" he says as you two step off of the escalator, walking towards the theatre.

While standing in line to get your tickets you say "which vinyl did you get?" Tanaka turns towards you while stepping forward and says "I got Tyler's flower boy and cherry bomb albums" hearing this your eyes light up and you reply with "dude we got to listen to them when you get home oh my god!" Tyler was one of the main reasons you and Tanaka were best friends. Well Tyler and the banana fish manga. (if you don't like tyler the creator then pick another artist this is just a head canon lol)

Flash Back

"Hey do you know where the manga section is?" you say walking up to the blond haired boy. You were new to the school and didn't know where anything was. The school was like a maze and everything seemed so far from each other. "Yeah, follow me!" the boy says practically skipping and running on his way there. The library was bigger than you thought it would be, your old schools library was nothing compared to this one. "So you like anime huh..." the tan skin boy says. "Yeah it's really cool." you say looking down the aisles for the yellow book with bold black letters.

"So what you looking for, I might be able to help you find it." he says walking closer next to you. "Oh no it's fine you don't have to!" you shaking your hands in front of you. "No really I want to plus your new your going to need help with stuff anyways!" he says in a semi hyper tone. "Okay well it's called banana fish and it has a yellow cover-" you say before getting cut off. "You sure that you want that book." he says looking at you with wide eyes. "Yeah, I got books 1 through 10 but I can't find the others." you say continuing to scan the shelves. "Well the books are over here... I don't know if they have 11 though it might be being used." he says walking to the next aisle as you follow him looking at all the other books they had. "Ummm yeah. Here!" he says holding books 11 and 12 in his hands shoving them towards you. "Oh thanks!... well I have to start heading to my next class so uhm... bye! Have a nice day!" you say walking towards the lady at the front desk to check out the books that you had been searching for, for what felt like like all of eternity.

"Hey, I can take you to your class if you'd like." the newly met male says while you both walk out of the library doors together. "Well I mean I wouldn't want you to be late because of me." you say continuing to walk. "Its fine and we're going in the same direction anyways- well I'm assuming." he says both of you turning the corner. "So what class do you have?" the blond hair male says turning his head towards you.

"Um I have chem." you say looking at your schedule to be sure. "Same! Which teacher?" he says smiling. "Oh I have Mr. McGill." you say hesitantly while checking your schedule once again. "I have him too, I can totally show you if you want." he says perking up a bit. "Yeah sure! Also, what's your name? I never got it." you say stopping in front of the classroom door and resting your hand on the handle. "Oh sorry heheh I'm Tanaka... and you are..." he says nodding his head your way. "I'm (M/N) nice to officially meet you, Tanaka." you say smiling. "Yeah, nice to meet you too." Tanaka says staring into your eyes.

Real Time

"-(/N)! (M/N)!... you zoned out there for a sec, come on." Tanaka says reaching for your hand and pulling you towards the doors that lead you to the lobby and the usher who's waiting to take peoples tickets. "Sorry, I just got lost in thought you explain as you look for (F/C) as Tanaka tried to decide on which ICEE flavour to get.

Walking up to the counter Tanaka asks "hey which flavour should I get?" replying you say "Well your going to get coca cola and cherry mix anyways so why ask?" "You know-... you're right. And why do I ask...? I do it every time we go to the movies." he says you both waiting for the woman in front of you to finish ordering her stuff. "I honestly don't know. But which should I get?" you say watching the lady leave letting Tanaka order for the both of you. Ordering your own food was never really for you.

After ordering snacks paying for them (obviously) and going to meet the usher so you can watch the movie, you both walk into the theatre noticing that there were very few people in the theatre. "You would think that that there would be more people considering its new." you say whispering to Tanaka while trying to find your seats. "Yeah but maybe we're just early." he says sitting in his seat and getting comfortable. "Dude... the previews are over now people just aren't watching the movie." you say going for the big container of popcorn. "I missed this... like hanging out with you like this." he says smiling at you. You becoming grateful that you both are in the dark at the feeling of your face heating up and a fierce blush going across your cheeks. (sorry if you're dark skin I know people can't really tell when you're blushing.)

The movie started and you were about 30 minutes into it. Getting some more popcorn you and Tanaka both reach in at the same feeling your hands caress one another. Blushing for what felt like the millionth time you grab the popcorn and shove it in your mouth. Tanaka blushes and mutters a quick sorry. "It's fine." you say grabbing your slushie and taking a sip.

After a while the movie got to the best part and that's when Tanaka decided to be a little bold.

Tanaka's Pov

I'm finally going to make a move. Then hopefully I can have more of a chance with (M/N). Deciding that now would be a good time to act on my idea I grab (M/N)'s hand in one swift movement and intertwining my fingers with theirs rubbing my thumb across the back side of their hand.

They seem a bit- "You okay? Do you want me to let your hand go?" I whispered in a questioning tone worried that they didn't like me holding his hand. "No you're fine. But can I have some of the Twizzlers and sweet tart ropes?" (M/N) whispered. "Yeah here." I state handing him the candy.

I think I might have a pretty good chance with him. But we've always had a touchy relationship so its hard to tell. I really hope that they do though. It would be so fucking embarrassing if I took all his kindness and touchiness the wrong way.

20 Minute Time Skip

Getting our garbage and heading towards the door as the movie plays the credits and closing song. Walking out of the theatre, missing the contact of (M/N)'s soft chubby/slender hands I go to grab (M/N)'s hand. Feeling a chill go up my spine while feeling my face progressively get warmer I ask "You want to spend the night? It's getting late." looking at him. "Yeah it is pretty late I tell my (P/F) that I'm staying the night."

Third Person POV

"They said okay." you say putting your phone in your pocket. "Okay, I texted Saeko and she said she's on her way. She's supposed to be no longer than 15 minutes away." he says checking his phone and going to sit on the bench waiting for the blond haired woman and you following in his footsteps. "Hey so can I talk to you about something..." the usually loud and hyper boy says you barley able to hear him. "Yeah sure what's up?" you say going to face him. "So um I'm Bisexual..." he says neevously playing with his thumbs and avoiding eye contact. "That's so cool dude! I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me!" you say a soft smile on your cheeks.

'Maybe I have more of a chance now... nah prolly not he's fucking whipped for Kiyoko' you think as Tanaka smiles giving you a hug and you doing the same to him. "Thanks dude." he says as his phone notifications goes off and reading the message saying that his older sister is outside waiting for you both. "Hai (M/N)! So how was the date~?" she says a huge smile on her face. "HUH- a date what no- he doesn't like me like that we're friends." you say giggling a bit feeling a slight pain in your chest. You really didn't want to be friends with him but as long as he's in your life you feel s though you'll be fine. "Saeko shut up and take us home." he says rolling his eyes playfully with a small smile as he grabs your hand, once again making you blush.

Arriving home and walking through the door you get a smell of fresh baked cookies. "What's that smell it smell so fucking good oh my god!" you say as you and Tanaka basically sprint into the kitchen. (On a Usain bolt type beat.) "Holy shit they smell so good." Tanaka says mouth watering and going to get a plate to put some on for you both. "Hey- nuh uh no- these aren't for you! Make your own I still have some cookie dough left use that." Saeko says snatching the plate from Tanaka and putting it back in the cabinet after slapping his hand away from the cookies.

"What you making them for cAoCh uKaI~" Tanaka says in a mocking tone. "As a matter of fact yes I did. I owe him and he told me to make him cookies." she says sticking her head up and crossing her arms. "Bleh! Saeko could you please not flirt with him he's my coach dude I thought we agreed people like that were off limits!" Tanaka says in a whiney type voice practically throwing a temper tantrum.

"Oh shut up it's just cookies and plus I'm the older one here so you can't tell me what to do!" Saeko says sticking her tongue out, Tanaka doing the same. "Come on (M/N) we're going up stairs. She's about to start fawning over him" Tanaka says fake gagging while you giggle making your way up the stairs.

After going up stairs you take a shower remembering you didn't have any clothes. "TANAKA~!" you yell opening the door to the bathroom and wrapping your towel around your body and walking towards his room. "Yeah?!" he says opening he door and peaking out of it. "Do you have any clothes?" you say grabbing your leave in conditioner and combing/picking out your hair. "Yeah just pick something out. Anyways I'm gonna go take a shower." he says grabbing his clothes towel and walking out the door.

Coming back in Tanaka flops on his bed scooting next to you resting his head on your shoulder. "What you watching?" he mumbles snuggling more into you. "Twitch." you say resting your head on his. "Oh. Who's that?" he says looking up at you. "Quackity and Corpse." you said. "Oh they're cool." he says. Silence filling the room.

"Hey can we talk?" Tanaka says sounding a bit to serious for your liking. "Uh yeah sure." you say taking your headphone out and sitting up facing him. "So we've been friends for a while now and we're like super close, obviously, and I really like being around you and spending time with you and stuff..." Tanaka says playing with his fingers and hesitating slightly. "Tanaka what's going on? You okay, you bouta like die or something." you say jokingly trying to lighten to mood.

"Okay wait no- so um-... I kind of like... you... romanitcally-" he says avoiding eye contact. "Huh?" you said thinking you miss heard him. "If you don't like me back that's fine. We can pretend I never said anything, I'll just get over it-" he said before you cut him off with a kiss on the cheek, practically looking like a rose. "Um I like you too." you say smiling at him. "Really" the short haired boy looks up at you practically glowing. "Yeah. You wan to go on a date?" you say gushing hard as ever. "Yes!!- I mean yeah sure..." he says scolding himself for not being cool. "Okay." you say smiling at yourself and going to lay back down trying to calm yourself.

"You want to watch something?" he says laying down next to you putting his head back to the spot it was at before. "Yeah... what you want to watch?" you say hugging him. "Wait so I found this girl on Youtube and I know you don't really watch content like hers but she cool as hell. Her Youtube name is liyah li." he says grabbing his remote and opening youtube.

After watching the recommended channel you both went down a rabbit hole watching her videos for a while, finally deciding that you wanted to go to sleep you both put on a random show him holding you in his chest kissing you on the nose and falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

#noyas.works #tanaka ryunosuke #tanaka x male reader #fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu fluff #haikyu fic #tanaka fluff #hq fluff #pre timeskip

83 notes · View notes