#spinner oneshot

[imagineanime2022]

My Hero Characters W/ S/O Like Black Widow

Mr Compress X Fem!Reader, Spinner X Reader, Fatgum X Reader, Eraserhead X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: I got the perfect idea for you? Mr. Compress, Spinner, Fatgum, Aizawa, dating Black Widow the shield agent?

Warning: Talk of not being able to have kids (Mr compress), general trauma

Mr Compress

🔮 No one knows how Compress had ever managed to get your attention but it was a story that you both kept to yourself, something that was yours 🔮 You are probably the reason behind the success that he had outside of the LoV. They honestly had no doubt about that. 🔮 He liked that sass that you’d often give back to anyone who challenges you, he’d often sit back and let you take care of it. 🔮 Will be there for you when you need him to, anything that you want to talk about, he’ll listen always.

You sat in the room provided for you and Compress, you had spent the whole day getting to know the people that you would be working with and most of them were what you expected, everyone except for Toga. The young girl had latched onto your side, probably because you were the only other female in the group. The act itself was harmless but given the life that you had lived it reminded you of something that you couldn’t have.

Compress had noticed that you were missing the moment that you disappeared from sight, heave you a moment after all you could have just gone to the bathroom, when you didn’t reappear he decided that he was going to look for you. It didn’t take long to find you in the bedroom “are you okay love?” He asked. “I’m fine.” You answered. “Then what are you doing hiding in here?” He asked as he closed the door, slipping off his mask and the fabric underneath, allowing you to see his face. “No I just, it’s Toga.” You answered. “The young girl?” He asked. “What did she do?” “It was nothing that she did, it just reminded me of something that was taken from me.” You answered. “Taken from you?” He asked. “You remember when I said that the people that made me this way, took some things from me, things that I could never get back?” You asked. “Yes.” He answered as he crawled onto the bed after kicking off his shoes sitting behind you, where he wrapped his arms around your waist as he listened. “One of the things that they took from me was my womb.” You answered hands lacing with his over your stomach “I will never have a child at least not of my own and I saw that girl, when she said that her family did nothing to help her, I just…” You trailed off and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before resting his chin on it, fingers tightening around yours. “Why don’t you help her then, she seems to like you, she’s a delightful young lady.” He answered, you looked at him over your shoulder. “Take her under your wing and see what happens. At least if something ever happens to me then I know that you had someone else.” “Nothing is going to happen to you.” You insisted and he shrugged. “I’m sure with you around that is true.” He answered. “And we’ll make everyone regret ever taking anything from you on the way to our happy ending.”

Spinner

🦎 You were the one that taught Spinner how to use his abilities to aid him in a fight, your stealth instincts were on point and he’d trust you over anyone else. 🦎 When he decided to join the league of villains he offered you a chance to go with him, of course you said yes. He worried that you would end up killing someone before the mission starts. 🦎 You became the information gatherer, you were good at disguising yourself and blending in with the crowd, you got everything that you needed with no one ever knowing that you were there. 🦎 And the people who did know never lived long enough to tell anyone about it.

You were quick on your feet as you moved around the destroyed Mafia base, the heroes had been guarding it so well or so they thought. Shigaraki had asked you to get any information still left there that related to the bullets that he had taken from them. You didn’t think that there would be anything left but if there was even one more computer you could extract information from it.

You easily snuck through the corridors dodging the night guards and into the ruined building, it didn’t take long to find a room with a computer in it, it looked like one they had marked for removal but it hadn’t been done yet. “How is it going?” Spinner’s voice sounded through the ear piece. “No spotted yet, found a computer that they haven’t moved yet, looks like they want to though, so there might be something on this one.” You explained lowly as you put the memory stick in, you didn’t need the screen, the memory stick had a programme on ti that would take everything the computer had to offer but that did mean that you would have to go through all the information and pick out what Shigaraki would want to hear about, so even after you get out of here you’d have some work to do. “Good then you can get out of there.” Spinner urged and you hummed eyes moving to the corridor, there was movement outside, the room had no door but it was pitch black in the room, you were careful with your steps as you slowly moved around him as he checked the room, you got behind him, your arm wrapped around his neck cutting off his airways while taking the walkie from his pocket to stop him from calling anyone else, noting the soft beep telling you that the extraction was finished. You dropped the body to the floor when he stopped fighting you and grabbed the memory stick before getting the same way you had gotten in.

You met Spinner at the car where he had been waiting for you, you both made tracks ditching the car before heading back to the hideout, you had been working for hours when Spinner brought you food and water for the long night ahead “anything good?” He asked, leaning down behind you. “Nothing yet, just normal stuff at the moment, but there is something behind a lot of passwords and security so maybe that’s what we’re looking for.” You answered, pressing a kiss to his cheek “thanks for the food and water.” “No problem.” He answered, a small blush on his cheeks. “You should get some rest, you don’t need to stay up too.” You said softly, he looked at you for a second before shaking his head. “I’m not tired.” He denied as he sat in the chair next to you. “You're too sweet for this world.” You informed him, he just looked away from you mumbling something you couldn’t hear under his breath. It was only 15 minutes later that he was asleep in the chair, you moved him over to the sofa where he would be a little more comfortable, you could not be happier with the partner that you had found.

Fatgum

🍭 Fatgum was completely different to anyone that you had ever met before, kind and encouraging, he seemed to see something in you, something that you definitely didn’t see. 🍭 You didn’t believe that you could be a hero, so he kept you close and show you that you could be a hero despite your past. 🍭 It took a long time for you to stop responding to physical touch negatively, he understood completely after a life where physical touch was used as punishment or training he was surprised that you didn’t have more of a reaction. 🍭 Slow and steady wins the race for him, he never forces you into anything and he makes sure that you have a safe space to explore everything and make new opinions about the world you are now a part of.

Fatgum hadn’t heard you come into the room but that was nothing new, you were light on your feet always had been, you glanced over his shoulder to see that he was sorting out paperwork. Perfect. You had been feeling like you needed to be closer to him and hoped that he was doing something stationary so that you could just climb on his lap and stay there for a few hours. “You alright Darling?” He asked. “Mm.” You hum, not sure how to ask him for what you wanted, it was his home office so you didn’t have to worry about someone seeing you, you stood there for a moment before walking forward worming your way under his arm he moved them so that you could get into position easier dropping the pen he was using his hands moving to your body. “You wanna sit with me until I finish?” He asked. “Yeah… Is that okay?” You asked. “‘Course it is sweetheart.” He answered “You're okay though right?” “Hmm.” You hummed, he had always encouraged you to tell him what you were feeling so he could understand where you were at. “I just wanted to be with you, close to you.” “You should have said something sooner, I always want to be close to you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he leaned back moving you to a more comfortable position across his lap, he was in his slimmer form so he had less surface area to work with, you rested your head on his shoulder pressing your face to his neck to hide your eyes. “This is good.” You mumbled. “I’ll only be a couple more hours, after that we can go lay down, how does that sound?” You asked. “Great.” You mumbled softly slipping into relaxation easily.

Eraserhead

🐛 Aizawa had worked hard with you, when he had found you on the mission to take down the smudging ring. You had refused to talk to anyone but him and that was where the relationship started. 🐛 When you were well enough you started helping others, you became one of the most loved heroes using everything that they had taught you to help others. 🐛 You and Aizawa were dangerous on stealth missions, you were usually the ones called when information was needed or a job needed doing quietly. 🐛 When Aizawa got 1A, you expected to spend less time with him but instead with all of the villain attacks and the danger that followed the class meant that you spent more time together in the dorms than you ever had before.

You sat on the sofa in the room that they had given you in the dorm with the kids, you were waiting for Aizawa to do his last sweep of the dorms to make sure that all the kids were in their rooms and everyone was okay.

Your mind travelled back through everything that had happened since Aizawa had saved you, everything that he had helped you through, everything that you gained just from him helping you through your recovery. When he saved you, you didn’t even know what it meant to want something for yourself, or to deal with something outside of violence.

Your attention was drawn back to the present recognising Aizawa crouched in front of you “there you are, you back with me?” He asked. “How long have you been back?” You asked. “A couple of minutes later, I came back and you were crying.” He answered “what were you thinking about?” “Just everything that’s happened, I didn’t even realise that I was crying.” You frowned as you lifted your hands to your face wiping away the tears that were still on your cheeks. “Your okay?” He asked, you knew what he was asking, checking in to make sure that there was nothing that you needed physically, emotionally or material. “I’m okay.” You answered, throwing your arms out, he leaned forward accepting your affection and then lifting you easily from your place on the couch heading towards your bedroom. “Come on, let's get some rest.” He said softly as he took you to bed. “Yeah okay.” You nodded.

Request Here!!

[insomniamamma]

Forever's Gonna Start Tonight: Joel Miller X F! Neurodivergent!reader

A/N: hey, you all remember how Spinner was supposed to be a one-shot? LMAO. I am incapable of one shots. I started this around last Valentine's Day and felt too intimidated to finish it. I guess most of the fandom wanted to take Joel to the big dance. So I shelved it for a bit, and then, while struggling with another WIP, I revisited this and found that I still really liked it. And you know what? Fuck it. Two cakes.

Warnings: A smidge of angst. A bit of awkwardness. Mentions of crappy people in Spinner's past. Spinner is neurodivergent. This is a direct sequel to this fic, so you should probably read that one first. Dancing. Very soft kisses. Spinner is meant to be a reader inset, but she's right on the line between RC and OC.

Ellie’s already up and  gone when Joel comes downstairs, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Of all the teenage orphans he could’ve ended up with he’s stuck with one who has no concept of sleeping in on a Sunday.  A mug of herb tea waits for him on the table with a saucer placed over top of it to keep it warm, and he feels himself smile, Ellie looking after him in her way, a curled scrap of paper pinned by the mug, marked with her laborious printing. Joel frowns. Ellie likes to leave him little notes when she makes it out of the house before him. Usually a shitty pun. Ellie collects puns the way a crow goes after shiny things. He cradles the mug in his hands for a moment before making his eyes focus on the note. 

Valentine’s in two days. Ask her to the dance you pussy. Joel groans. Her. You. He’s been thinking of you. More than he expected to. Paired up with you on patrol and the weather went to shit. Bad luck and punky wood that wouldn’t do much more than smolder in the stove. Your hands were so damn cold. He knew from the moment you’d finally stopped shivering and relaxed against him and started snoring into his neck that you’d become a problem. The same way Tess was a problem, Ellie is a problem. Tommy is a problem. And now there’s you. He has to remind himself sometimes that he’s safe, that Jackson is safe, that he and Tommy and Ellie are safe here. And now you are counted into that worried toll.   

He’s been thinking of you. The way your eyes will flick up and hold his before darting away. Your eyes turn away but then you smile, just a little. a soft dimpling of your cheek, like the two of you have a secret. And you do, he thinks, that night curled together, your freezing hands cradled in his, zipped your sleeping bags together like a couple of kids on a camping trip, the feel of you going lax against him, your face, your cold nose tucked into his neck, curled his arm around you and you burrowed in closer. A thread of tenderness strung between you.

 Walked you home after he found you in the square. He knows you’re not brave, but you were brave that night, even though you shook as he pulled you up from the bandstand steps, walked you home, your arm hooked through his like he’s some old time gentleman but it made you smile even if you wouldn’t quite look at him.   This is me, your porch light flickering slightly, power from the dam isn’t always consistent, there’s so much to do, so much maintenance, so many things left to rot, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but you surge forward and hug him, arms banded tight around him, feel him stiffen and then his arms come up around you, tucks you tight against him, cups the back of your head and draws you close, nestles you into the column of his neck, feels you relax in to his hold.   “Thank you,” you breathed against him, allowed yourself to be held and then withdrew, caught your cold hands in his and squeezed.  “Anytime, honey,”  Your eyes didn’t quite meet his, but your cheek curved in a smile and then you closed the door between you. 

 He thinks about the two times he’s held you, the two times you’ve relaxed into his arms, but you still can’t meet his eyes. You might never meet his eyes. Joel decides he’s okay with that. The soft arc of your smile is enough.

 He settles beside you, bowl in hand, venison chili and cornbread. Your eyes flick up to him and you nod, acknowledge his presence and then go back to eating, the cornbread is nice and grainy and sweet, the chili is thin but warm and decently spicy, more potatoes and sunchokes, tough beans than venison, this is the deep of winter and things are lean, find yourself daydreaming about Olive Garden of all places, the soup and breadsticks, so much food that you always had to take some home and you feel a nudge at your elbow. Joel says nothing but slides you a bit of paper folded into a compact triangle, and you feel yourself smile, glance at Joel and he’s busy sopping up his chili with his cornbread, looks nonchalant but you can feel the bounce of his leg beneath the table, tuck some cornbread into your mouth and chew, unfold the complication of paper, yellowed with printed blue lines, ripped out of some notebook.  Will you come to the Valentine’s Dance with me? Yes. No.  The implication being that you circle your choice and hand your answer back to him. You pull a nubbin of charcoal out of your pocket and draw a circle around the “Yes”. Hold the fiddly bit of paper in your palms, not sure how to turn it back into it’s triangle shape, so you press it into orderly thirds and slide it back to him. Steal little glances at him as he reads your answer. His leg stops bouncing under the table, and when you look at him, he’s smiling.   “See you Saturday, Spinner, Joel murmurs. And you think you hear the smile in his voice but your are never sure.

 

Saturday. Saturday. Shit fire and save the matches. You said yes. You circled yes on that stupid note, like a stupid high school kid. Your experience of dancing is limited to court dances on the Ren Faire circuit with a dash of square dance and reels. You’re not sure how to act, you’re not sure what to wear. Do you have to dress fancy? Do you have to paint up your face? You have no idea what to expect so you do what you always do when some social expectation evades you.  You go and ask Maria. Bring the tiny pair of socks you’ve been working on, still not entirely pleased with the final color, more brown than yellow, still working through different mordants. You wish they’d managed to snag a display of Rit from that Walmart, but nobody thought it was important.   “Spill it,” says Maria, knows you well enough to know when something’s bothering you.  “I don’t like the color, the mordants—“  “I know all about the mordants. C’mon. Spill.”  “Joel asked me to the dance.”  “And you said yes.”   “I said yes.”  “So what’s the problem?”  “What if he’s messing with me—“ Maria laughs but then rests her hands lightly on your upper arms, a touch that means grounding, that means truth, something you would not tolerate from anyone but her.   “Do you know that man to have a sense of humor? Other than those terrible puns he saves up for Ellie?”  “Guess not. It’s just--“ You’re not sure how to word it, did plenty of dancing at Ren Faire, carefully proscribed steps and agreed upon roles, danced at your wedding reception with your ex mouthing the steps into your ear so you didn’t fuck it up, semi-formal dance in the seventh grade your mom fixed your hair and put you in a powder pink dress with a sailor collar and you’d spent the whole evening the darkest part of the gym you could find, waiting for it to be over.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, do I need a dress because—“  “It’s not prom, says Maria, No one’s gonna be fancy. Except Tim.” You feel yourself smile. Tim with his his button down shirts and fussy little bowties, tall, whip skinny and twice the age of God. No one quite knows how he made it through the outbreak, but he knows how to make explosives so no one is in a real hurry to ask.   “Tim’ll probably show up in a three piece suit.”  “Wear something with no holes and you’ll be fine.” You frown and Maria grins at you.  “That’s not exactly helpful.”  “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

 Through the next couple of days, Joel is there like he always is, a steady, unobtrusive presence, the two of you side by side over the deep sink in the caff, dish duty but you don’t mind. Soap and scrub and pass them along to Joel who rinses and sets them in the racks to dry.   “Joel?”  “Hmm?”  “I can’t dance.” He huffs laughter.  “I’ve seen you dance.” And you feel heat rising in your face, ears going hot. Someone had played the Chieftains on the juke in the Bison (hang out there more often now that you know Joel is there) and the bit of step-dancing you’d picked up on the Ren Faire circuit had come out.  “Not like normal people do.” Scrub the dishes and hand them off to him. Normal people, you hear him mutter, hold out a bowl for him to rinse and rack but he doesn’t take it.   “I could show you,” says Joel, “You know, so you’re not worried about it.”  “I’m not worried,” you say.  “Yes you are,” he says, wipes his wet hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, “Come here.” You wipe your soapy hands on your pants and stand facing him, lip bit in a frown, he holds up his hand like he means for you to give him a high five. “Give me your hand.”  Lay your palm against his and he laces his fingers through yours. “Put your other hand on my shoulder.”    “Like this?”  “Yep. I’m gonna put my hand on your hip,” he says, “That okay, Spinner?”  “Sure,” and he rests his hand on you, not gripping, not grabbing, starts swaying, foot to foot, back and forth and you mirror him, warm weight of his hand, gentle pressure that swings you around.  “That’s it? There’s no steps?”   “No steps,” says Joel. “Just like dancin at prom.”   “Never went to prom.”  “Really?” You shrug.  “We played Shadowrun instead.”  

 You settle on the wrap skirt, sewn from an old cotton bedsheet. Dyed yellow with a dusty box of Rit you found on the top shelf of a cabinet in the house they gave you. Didn’t turn out as bright as you wanted, but it’s still a nice yellow, like softened butter on a plate, and you like the patterns that the knotted twine made. Pair it with a rust colored v-neck, looted from the Walmart around the time you arrived in Jackson. You know it won’t hold up so you rarely wear it, but it looks nice with the skirt and clings to your curves in a way that isn’t entirely horrible, longies underneath your skirt because February in Jackson is fucking cold. 

 The caff looks different set up for the dance, long tables with their legs folded up, stacked against on wall, folding chairs around the perimeter, paper and fabric hearts hung from the rafters, all hung with old Christmas lights, cast your eyes around and worry, you’ve been stood up before, it wouldn’t exactly surprise you, and then you find him, tucked back by the DJ, cobbled together equipment from the high school’s AV club, too-rah loo-rah too-rah loo-ray-aay— he sees you and smiles, dimples sunk into his scruffy cheeks, stands and hurries to you, takes your hands in his.   “Wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”  “I wasn’t sure either.” Runs his thumbs over your knuckles. He’s beautiful in the low, shifting light, disco ball with a third of the little mirrors missing, little blots of light passing over the walls, catching the silver threaded through his hair-and Everything I do start’s playing, that goofy song from Robin Hood movie, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to talk about how ridiculously inaccurate the movie is, Kevin Costner’s accent was so bad, his hands folded warm around yours.  “Wanna dance?”  “Yeah. Okay.” And you let him lead you onto the floor, his hand laced with yours, your hand on his shoulder, just like you did by the deep-sink, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching anywhere beside where your hands rest, and in hand and his hand on the swell of your hip, the two of you turn and turn, Joel doesn’t push. He doesn’t dig his fingers in, just sways you side to side in a slow circle. It’s nice in the anonymous murk, he doesn’t try to dip you or change the pattern, Bryan Addams fades into Cindy Lauper, time after time, and he pulls you closer always liked this song, he murmurs into your hair and you nod, tuck your face into the join of his neck and shoulder unthinking, and then you stiffen, this is where he will push back, drag you back to arm’s length, and maybe ask you what the fuck you think you’re doing, but instead he breathes out a contented sigh and you turn and turn and tun in the broken light, his pulse thrumming beneath your ear, if you’re lost and you look then you will find me, and for a moment the world isn’t broken, and then Time After Time Fades out and the fucking Chicken Dance comes on.  “You wanna—“  “Absolutely not.”  “You don’t know the chicken dance?”  “Of course I know the chicken dance. I fucking hate it.”   “Let’s sit this one out then—“ and then Tommy enters like a meteor, grabs Joel by the arm   “C’mon man it’s the Chicken Dance!”  Joel shoots you a beleaguered see what I have to put up with look and lets his brother haul him onto the floor. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, but he knows all the moves, the contrast of his grim expression and the shimmy of his hips as he wiggles his imaginary chicken tail is too much for you and you laugh bright and bold, the loud bray your parents said was unladylike, your ex said made you sound like a donkey, and for a second that old fear spikes, but no one’s looking at you, no one notices. Joel glances your way and smiles before his brother grabs his hands and swings him in a delirious apple hooch fueled arc while the accordion does it’s thing.   The music changes again and Joel extricates himself and plops down in the folding chair next to you.   “No Macarena?”  “Gotta draw the line somewhere, Spinner.” 

 A string of fast songs plays and the kids take over the floor momentarily, some recognize and some you don’t, Joel rests his hand on your knee and you lay yours over his, sit back and let them have their fun, sip strong apple hooch out of pitted plastic tumblers, burns a little going down, but makes you warm inside. You lean against him and his hand leaves your knee, arm comes up around your shoulder.   “Is this what prom was like?” Joel frowns.   “The music’s kinda the same,” he says, “But everyone was dressed up all fancy. There was lots of drama. Lots of people crying about who asked who and who dumped who.”  “Sounds stupid.”  “Yeah, I guess it was. All that shit seemed so important and now—“  “We didn’t know.” Your eyes hold his, deep wells in the dim shifting light, even though it makes you want to squirm, too many times told look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, too many times told to stop staring, stop being weird, “Joel. We didn’t know.” He turns from you and stares out over the floor, nods his head, and you wonder if you’ve said it wrong, but his arm is still draped warm over your shoulder, looks troubled, but then the lights drop and a few familiar piano notes sound and the kids scatter into the dark, confused—turn around every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never comin round turn around  “Oooh this is a good one—“  “C’mon, Spinner, let’s dance.” The floor fills with couples, mostly harried survivors like you and Joel, the folks of Jackson old enough to have danced to this song in stuffy school gyms hung with crepe paper streamers and balloons, Love’s Baby soft and Darkkar Noir and flop sweat.  Maria and Tommy sway with their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed, Ellie dances theatrically, mouthing the lyrics like a cartoon opera singer to the delight of a cluster of sugared up kids who’ve formed a loose ring around her. The configuration has shifted, both your arms draped around his neck, his hands on your hips, the pretense of space between you forgotten, some murky memory of the your middle school English teacher reminding people to save room for Jesus when you danced, had no idea what that meant at the time, but now you have some idea, Joel warm and strong and flush against you, gentle susurration of his breath in your hair, warm beat of his pulse beneath your ear.   “Joel?”  “Hmm?”  “You remember this video for this song?”  “There was football players or somethin. People with glowing eyes.”  “And Ninjas. Don’t forget the ninjas. I think there was an angel too.”  “And a guy in a fencing mask,” says Joel, “I think?”   “You’re right! Glitter poured out of it when he lifted it up!”    “Then she was just some professor all along, like she dreamed the whole thing.”  “Just a dream.” You whisper against his neck and he holds you all the tighter.

 Eventually the lights come up. Happy Valentine’s Day! Ez’s voice booms through the mic and you wince, for those of us lucky in love it is time to take that noble sentiment elsewhere—  god, I hate that guy.   — For those on clean up duty now is your time to shine. Everyone else needs to skedaddle. I will now play some skedaddlin music. And true to his word, that shit techno cover of Cotton Eye Joe starts playing at migraine levels, stagger out into the frigid night, clear and still and biting cold, got a bit more tipsy than you intended. Cider for when the seasons turn, applejack for the dead of winter, but Joel is right beside, hand hovered just over your hip in case you falter.   He’s walked you home enough times that it’s not a question any more. You don’t have to. I know. Got nowhere else to be, Spinner.   “This is me,” you say, you always say, faint flicker of your porch light. Power from the dam is not always the most steady. So many things left to rot, so many things to fix.  “I know,” he says, like always, You hug him, squeeze your arms around him tight.  “Thank y—“  “Stop that, Spinner. You don’t have to thank me for loving you-“  “You love me.” You draw back from him. It comes out as a statement and not a question, and here’s where he will retract, will back pedal,  say he didn’t mean it, it was the applejack doing the talking, the applejack and the music from when you were both young and none of this had happened yet.  “Yeah, I do.” And when you hook your eyes to his, they are wide and deep and dark with worry, and you can’t look at him, gaze slides to the curve of his shoulder, the shape of him against the starshot sky, so much brighter now that everything is over. His hands find yours and, his thumbs brush back and forth over your knuckles. And you have so many questions, since when? That freezing night on the trail? Before? After? Why?   “For real?” Is the question that comes out, and you hate how small you sound, how your voice wavers. Squeezes your hands in his.  “For real.”  “Since that night?”  “I think so. I don’t know. Holdin you, it felt right. Feels right. Shit. I’m real bad at this-“ You laugh, breath plumed out like dragon smoke,   “Me too.”  “Tommy used to make fun of me. Said I could never tell when girls were tryin to flirt with me.”  “I can’t flirt to save my life. Never could. None of that ever made sense to me.”  “Good thing I didn’t try some crappy pick up line, huh?”  “Very good thing. There was this one guy in high school he started walking around me like this—“ You drop Joel’s hands and start orbiting him, watch that lovely smile crawl it’s way up his cheek.  “—and when I asked him what the fuck he was doing he said, I’m part wolf, baby, we always circle our prey.”   Joel guffaws, his eyes screwed up in crinkled crescents, rests a desperate hand on your shoulder as he doubles over— “That is. The dumbest. Goddam thing I have ever heard in my life—“  “I didn’t know whether to laugh at him or punch him. So I just kind of stared at him. And he went away.”  “I bet he did.  Look, Spinner, I didn’t mean to blurt it right out like I did but I do mean it. You don’t—“ He swipes his hand over the back of his neck, “If you don’t feel the same m’not gonna push. Shit, I’m sorry-“ You reach for him unthinking and cradle his stubbly cheeks in your palms. His eyes are big and wide and shining, he’s scared, you think, at least as scared as you are, and the words aren’t coming. In a movie you’d have some perfect come-back, something you could say that would make all the things roiling in your mind seem clear and concise. In a movie there’d be a declaration, something that would roll out of you and the music would swell, but now there’s only Joel’s warm, dark eyes and the yellow thrum of your porch light and the brittle chill in the air. You can’t say. You can’t make what you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, resolve into words, so you kiss him instead, press your lips to his and he kisses back, mirrors you, warm, calloused palms cradle your face.   

Not sure if it’s you or him who deepens the kiss, mingled breath and gentle touches, soft meeting of lips and tongues and hands, feels fevered and rushed and right,  he tastes like applejack and when you break for air he rests his forehead against yours.   “Wow.” He breathes against your lips.  “Yeah.” Leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying together, a bit like dancing together in the caff, no disco ball just the bright and brittle sky, a million pin-point stars stitched through the black.   “You can come in if you—“  “We both been drinkin”  “You don’t want—“  “I do, but I wanna do this right,” draws the backs of his fingers down the curve of your cheek, “I want to love you the right way, honey. We’ve got time.” You wrap your arms around him and tuck your face against his neck where it feels safe, cups the back of your head in his warm palm, cradles you close.  “Does this mean we’re going steady? Do people still say that? Going steady?” Joel chuckles, and you feel it, low rumble of laughter transmitted from his chest to yours, threading beneath the beat of his pulse in your ear.   “Yeah. I think we are.”

[frickingnerd]

Villain Masterlist

Tomura Shigaraki

gamer boyfriend shigaraki - headcanons

blinded by jealousy - oneshot

dating tomura shigaraki - headcanons

patching up shigaraki after a battle - headcanons

yandere shigaraki crushing on his neighbour - headcanons

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

family feud - drabble

dating dabi / touya todoroki - headcanons

patching up touya todoroki - headcanons

dabi with a s/o who has a healing quirk - headcanons

dabi comforting you after a break up - headcanons

dabi with a s/o who's sensitive to loud noises - headcanons

touya's childhood best friend dating natsuo - headcanons

dabi crushing on a hero - headcanons

friends with benefits hawks & dabi - headcanons

Jin Bubaigawara / Twice

romance isn't dead (yet) - oneshot

Shuichi Iguchi / Spinner

dating spinner / shuichi iguchi - headcanons

having your first fight with spinner - headcanons

Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress

breaking up with mr. compress - headcanons

Himiko Toga

dating himiko toga - headcanons

himiko with a s/o who likes her smile - headcanons

Oboro Shirakumo / Kurogiri

memories of who we used to be - oneshot

Kai Chisaki / Overhaul

call me your favorite, call me the worst - oneshot

Kaina Tsutsumi / Lady Nagant

poly relationship with mirko & lady nagant - headcanons

Akaguro Chizome/Stain

yandere stain - headcanons

stain meeting a shapeshifter - headcanons

[adel-memes]

I want to write something about Vio & Blue or Blue & Shadow or all three but I don't know what 😩

[foggylikemyvision]

Hiiii! If you still write for shera could you maybe write a young micah x reader?

Whatever plot you want

Its okay if you dont want to

Byeee

hi yes of course! requests are always open!!

sorry if its not too good, ive never written for micah (or she ra in general)

you didn't really specify anything so i just kinda went with "How you meet?" with a lot of extra, unnecessary angst

have a great day!!

Everyone knew about Micah, the prodigy that Light Spinner had taken an interest in. You, too, took an interest in him. Anyone with more than a thought in their head could see why. He was pretty, smart, cute, kind, not to mention talented. The ‘Dream Guy’ in everyone’s eyes. You couldn’t help but dig into the rumors. Gossip was juicy, after all.

Maybe you shouldn’t have dug.

The gossip was a little too juicy. The thought that Light Spinner, one of the most renowned sorcerers, was teaching him forbidden magic? Well, who could resist? Bumping into him in the hallway, you got his number. Which, on its own, is shocking. Cute guy? School prodigy? That actually gave you his number? The first ones really are shining their light down on you.

Well, you fell hard. A little too hard! Eventually, even the thought of him alone got you all blushy and bashful! Gosh the things you would do to him… wait, sorry, let’s keep it PG. You became acquaintances, and then buddies, and then friends, and then study partners, and then, well, you thought you’d get further. You guess not. You didn’t mean to follow him that day at the lab, swear! You just wanted to talk to him, and before you knew it you were following him!

You, uh. Guess the rumors were true. Light spinner was, shockingly, actually teaching him forbidden magic. So, you snitched. What else would you have done? You love Micah, you really do, but that crosses the line. Firstly, if you weren’t allowed to learn forbidden magic, then he wasn’t either!!

Luckily, your friendship didn’t suffer after that. He never found out, and Light Spinner- now renamed Shadow Weaver- was exiled. Well, you never liked her anyways. She always picked on you during classes.

One night, when you were lying awake at night, you had an epitome. You were in love with Micah. You thought it was just a crush, but would you really do all this for a silly crush? When you were walking through the halls, something caught your eye. Was that- Micah? What was he doing here, his classes ended hours ago! Who is-

Oh.

He just kissed her. He.. doesn’t like you back. You could feel your heart break, the roses in your bag seemed to wilt. Maybe, uh.

Maybe it’s for the best.

-

youre welcome for the angst!! :))

[kanrachan483]

Pillangóház (Dabi x Reader) (on Wattpad)

Főszereplő hölgyünk az éjszaka egy nemes pillangója. A többi hasonló sorsú lánnyal együtt szórakoztatják vendégeiket, a Pillangóház nevezetű piroslámpás épületben esténként. Hősnőnk életében már sok férfi megfordult, de munkáján kívül nem fordított rájuk nagyobb figyelmet. Azt gondolta már nem lepheti meg senki. Közömbös mosolyát magára öltve, ül le újabb és újabb vendégek mellé minden este, azonban a sors összehozza egy olyan férfival, aki felkelti érdeklődését nehéz természetével. Vajon ez a férfi kiérdemli a lány teljes figyelmét? Vagy ő is a feledés homályába merül?

Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia) sztoriját Dabi múltjával kapcsolatban érintjük!

A történet +18-as részeket tartalmaz, ha érzékeny vagy az ilyesmire kérlek ne olvasd!

Jó szórakozást!

Kép forrása: https://twitter.com/a___0___i___7/status/1646144522609389571

Történet:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/352139353-pillang%C3%B3h%C3%A1z-dabi-x-reader?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=KanraChan483&wp_originator=dmAECRunUAX7s1mN1ArOwZOgryNT3T9lpTshd8NWPXyao0Y1Ecv4xOyuGcBtpbAbwOi%2Bola6osR95wVEgtpLdw5QVYgy5CxkF%2B8C0f6vee%2Bi35M4YtHv64hiWUwZhiJ4

[d1s1ntegrated]

Imagine Shigaraki with shy bookworm reader, who just hides her face blushes behind a book when she feels like he’s nearby?🤭

bookworm (nsfw)

shigaraki x shy!reader oneshot

summary: shigaraki catches you reading a verrryyyy dirty novella, and makes those chapters feel real.

btw this wasnt proofread, sorry if there are some minor mistakes!

cw: dirty talk, p/v, rough sex, overstimulation, corruption kink, slight breeding kink?, oral (fem rec), groping, shiggy is a hugeeee perv, mean shiggy, shy reader, missionary, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, minimal use of y/n, degradation, slight book abuse (sorry! but its for the plot)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"what are you doing?" shigaraki's voice cuts through the paragraph you were halfway through, causing you to jump. you slide your bookmark slowly between the pages.

"just reading" you answer him softly, and he scoffs.

"tch, again?" he rolls his eyes, "are you gonna do anything else today?"

you shake your head, reopening to the page you left off on. "probably not. it just got good" you retort, and refocus your eyes onto the dramatic scene. you look up at him over the top of the book- he's perched up on the arm of the old couch, picking at the already-ripped hangnails on his calloused hands. you watch him secretly for a few seconds before you plant your nose back into the book again, sighing contentedly. he suddenly interrupts you again by sliding down the arm and plopping down onto the worn seat. he audibly sighs and groans, and you tilt your head at him.

"is something wrong, shigaraki?" you ask innocently, and he huffs.

"tch. no. i'll leave you be" he slinks off the couch and heads over to the bar. you watch as he runs his slender fingers through his baby blue hair, and smile to yourself. he throws himself onto a barstool dramatically and you giggle lightly, but catch yourself.

"you know" he starts from across the room, "if you spent half as much time with the league as you do reading, you might actually learn something useful" he says matter-of-factly, and you bite your lip, fighting the urge to say something back.

its not that you weren't involved with the leagues missions- you were their perfect alibi. a small bookshop owner who just so happened to settle into the wrong part of town. it wasn't your fault the league found you useful, and it certainly wasn't your fault that their bribe was far too good to pass up. keep the shop, and you, out of chaos's way, and they use your place as not only a hideout, but a resource for information.

over the past few months playing pretend with them, you actually grew comfortable with the villains. toga came to the shop regularly with magne to read every trashy romance novel and gossip with you about boys. kurogiri would pop in and out on the premise of "needing information per tomura's request", and twice and spinner both enjoyed the comic section from time to time. you didn't see much of dabi, but when you did, he'd flit through the horror section, then secretly the romance section, ultimately to leave without a word, with a few books tucked under his coat. you acted like you didn't notice, because after a week or so, they'd return to their spots on the shelves. the only one you didn't see regularly was shigaraki.

shigaraki avoided seeing you as much as possible, and you subconsciously did the same. he liked to stay in his secluded hideaway, left to his own devices (literally, his devices. aka his PC). but when you started living at their base because your lease ended, and you didn't have the money to renew it AND keep the bookshop running (undercover work is hard, y'know!), you realized fast why exactly you didn't like coming face to face with tomura.

not only was he kind of an asshole, not to mention competitive, with a sharp and venomous tongue, he was so, so hot. his scars decorated his face like little strokes of paint on a canvas. his angular nose and carmine eyes were placed so perfectly on his pale skin. his thin lips dragging upwards into a predatory grin whenever he spoke of all things horrid. withal, the little birthmark just below those lips, that you found yourself fantasizing about kissing from time to time. just to see what it'd be like, of course. pure curiosity, nothing more. overall, the man was a picture-perfect portrait of your worst nightmare antagonist from the books you loved so much.

you weren't afraid of him per se, but you damn sure were intimidated. so you kept your head low, and your voice down around him. you were typically the quiet type, but something about him made you silent. as if one wrong word would cause him to turn and grip you tightly with all five fingers, turning you to nothing more than a fleeting memory.

he got off on your timidity. he looked at you like a helpless bunny, and he was the big scary wolf. you'd never admit it, but you got off on it equally the same. so when he'd approach you, you'd shove your face further into the pages of your book, as if getting closer to the words would save you from his vermillion gaze.

"i'm sorry, shigaraki. i just figured the further i stay away from the league's...well, anything, it would be safer for us overall." you masterfully answer him as to not provoke him. he stands from his seat and cracks his knuckles, dragging out his next reply.

"that doesn't mean you have to be completely oblivious to the world around you." he slowly approaches the back of the couch, and you feel yourself heat up at the proximity. he leans over the couch slightly to get closer, and you instinctively raise the book to cover everything up to your eyes. you blink at him and he smirks.

"what are you reading, anyways?" he snatches the book from your hands with three fingers and flips through it, eyes widening at the passage he lands on. he raises his eyebrows and you sink into yourself, covering your face with the sleeves of your oversized jumper.

"please," you croak out, "can i have it back?". your pleading sends a devilish smile to creep onto his face, and he shoves the book back into your hands.

"i didn't know our perfect little y/n was so, so filthy" he draws your name out with a teasing tone.

your face flushes and he chuckles.

"and here i thought you were the spitting image of innocence. seems as though i thought wrong for once" his face is inches from yours, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch. you can smell the combination of redbull and musky cologne on him, he's so close. you inhale sharply, breath hitching in your chest as he saunters around, swinging himself back over onto the unoccupied seat of the couch.

you don't answer as he asks another tantalizing question, causing him to lean over onto your legs, repeating it.

"i said," he raises his eyes to meet yours, "why'd you turn so quiet all of a sudden?"

you shake your head and look up at him, hovering over you.

"i'm always quiet..." you reply shakily, and he laughs.

"you're so pitiful, y/n, you know that?" he snakes a hand up to your thigh, drumming four fingers against the exposed skin under your shorts.

you nod and try to ignore him best as possible by reopening the book. this makes him even bolder, as he pinches your thigh, between thumb and forefinger, causing you to gasp out from behind the novel.

"don't act like i didn't see what you were reading there, slut." his voice is lower now, and his words slice through the core of your stomach and send pangs of heat through you. you giggle nervously as he creeps further, covering your very obvious desire with chapter 32 of your now clearly smutty book. he chuckles and drags his fingers under your sweater, tucking his ring finger down as not to hurt you. he trails up, underneath the hem of your bra, and forcefully pinches at one of your already-puffy nipples. you stifle a moan as you feel your core liquify, and he groans at the contact of your soft flesh on his cold, rough fingers. he pushes himself on top of you, your legs automatically spreading open for him as he drives his still-clothed hips down to meet yours. the friction alone drives you both wild, and he growls.

"you ever read any books where the villain gets the girl?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. you don't answer, but peer at him over the top of the book again and nod.

"is this one of them?" he flicks the back of the book and you jump, but nod again.

he hums passionately at your reaction and answer. then, without warning, he grips onto the hem of your shorts with all five fingers, sending them off of you into a pile of dust. your eyes widen, and you frown slightly. at least they were old, and already kind of ready to be replaced. he laughs and undoes the button of his jeans, yanking his pants and boxers down with them. you watch as his cock springs free, taken aback by the sheer size of it. it's not huge, but it's lengthy still, with a pretty dusty rose tint to the tip. it glistens with precum already, and he strokes it with three fingers as he watches you squirm, body clearly acting faster than your mind.

he grinds his dick down between your legs, brushing against the soft cotton of your underwear. he exhales sharply at the contact, and you bite your lip, feeling your wetness pressed against the material.

he pushed the seam of your panties to the side and dips a slender finger inside of you, and you gasp. he curls it, massaging one of your spots before promptly removing the finger and placing it into his mouth, sucking your essence off his finger with a slick pop, moaning.

"fuck, you taste better than i expected" he grumbles, and you whimper out a "hmm?"

"i don't know why i expected you to taste like paper or somethin'" he snickers and lowers his head down to your heat, licking your clit lazily. you moan out loud this time, with breathy little pants as his tongue dips into you. where he learned this, you're unsure, but his devouring sends your head back against the arm of the couch, unable to stifle your desperation anymore. he shoves a finger back inside while his mouth licks and nips at your swollen clit, and you feel yourself cresting towards orgasm. your eyes flutter shut as the tension inside of you builds, further and further, driving you insane. you whimper at his rapid movements, and the tight strings inside of you snap suddenly, sending white-hot currents to ripple through you. you clench tightly around his finger and he laps up your cum greedily, groaning at your collapse.

"i'm gonna show you why it's so important to pay attention to the outside world, baby" he whispers in your ear as he positions his cock to your opening. you nod and he presses the tip in slowly, emitting a small gasp from the both of you. he shudders as he slips it in, feeling you already clenched around his length.

he yanks the book from your hands, uncovering your face. he tosses the book to the floor and wraps four fingers around your neck gently.

"need you to pay attention to me baby, those words aren't gonna fuck you like i will" he thrusts into you hard, disallowing you to adjust fully. he pulls out and you breathe deeply, but he doesn't wait. he shoves it back in forcefully, the tip smacking against your cervix. you groan out in a mix of pleasure and pain, and he tightens the grasp on your neck slightly.

"look so good like this, slut, taking the big villains cock like this" he grumbles out into your ear, and you melt into a pool of desire. his words are enough to send you, but you hold back, craving more of him. he begins rutting into you rhythmically, slamming into your core with soft "slaps". he brings his hand off your neck to grab your face, pressing his cracked lips to yours. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you taste yourself, sending a shiver down your spine. his moans tangle with yours as he picks up speed, and you feel as he sequentially grinds against your clit, the soft hair creating friction on your sensitive spot. you whimper at the contact and he bites on your lower lip.

"tell me how much you like this, filthy whore. tell me how badly you want my vile seed inside of you." he growls against your lips and you shiver again.

"i, shigaraki, please, i need it" you stutter out, and he groans.

"you're so pathetic. you want me to ruin you, huh?" he ends the question with a hard thrust, a shockwave of pain coursing through you. you nod and he continues, "what a depraved thing you are. you sit in front of me every fucking day and tease me, you know that?" he snarls.

"yes, i'm sorry, shigaraki, i'm sorry for being so filthy" you cry out, and he sends a swift slap to your thigh.

"don't apologize. i don't need an apology. i want to hear you beg." he sneers.

"please, shigaraki, please" you follow his orders dutifully, and he smiles wide.

"please what, wicked baby?" he thrusts into you hard and fast, his breathing staggering.

"please, let me cum, please, i need it, i need you to break me" you admit with tears rolling down your cheeks. he growls again and smacks your thigh again, digging four fingers into the pliable flesh again.

"break you? oh no, slut. i'm going to make it so that even the gods will turn their backs to you. you're mine, and by that, you're just as sick as i am now" he snaps, his voice a raspy and heavy breath. you clench tightly around him, his cock stretching you painfully still as you feel every ounce of purity in you dissipate. your moans and cries permeate the air with a sharpness that the whole city could hear, and you shatter forcefully around him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer as your hips buck up, riding up to the intensity of the orgasm with a rushed mantra of "fucks, please's, and yes's." your own voice shocks you as the peak hits you, causing you to shout his name out with offensive indulgence.

"fuck, tomu, oh fuckfuckfuck, tomura" his name spills from your lips like honey, and he fractures inside of you at the sound. he pushes himself as deep as he can, hissing as he spills inside of you. the heat seeps through your entire body, feeling the stickiness coating your walls deeply. he twitches inside of you as he crashes down from his own orgasm, and sucks in air sharply as he pulls out slowly. the pain immediately hits you, choking a sharp cry out of you.

he hovers over you still, nipping at your neck. you sob out from overstimulation as he pumps his cum inside you more with a finger again for a few seconds before pulling it out.

"had to make sure it was really in there" he whispers, and you huff weakly.

"so?" he asks quietly, growling next to your ear, "was it comparable to your shitty book?" he teases. you nod and glance at the book strewn on the floor.

"better than." your voice is strained from the screaming, and he chuckles. you reach down and grab the title off the floor, shoving it into his hands, and on instinct he grabs hold of it with only a few fingers. you shake your head and motion with your hands.

"get rid of it." you say dismissively, and he gives you a confused look.

"it was only a placeholder for you anyways" you shrug, and with a snicker, he wraps his hands fully around the book as it crumbles to dust in his hands.

"does this mean you're done with the reading?" he asks snarkily, and you shake your head.

"no, it just means i'm done trying to compare you to a few chapters."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

eeeenjoy! i went kinda hard with this one ngl. i lowkey really wanted a reason to write a little out of my usual loser!shiggy style, and something took over me for this.

thank you as always for the request <3

[cemeteryangel725]

Control, a Good Omens Of Fire and Falcons oneshot by CemeteryAngel725

I was SO SO thrilled to be paired with @bea-n-art for the @goodomensafterdark Spring Fling Kink Sling! We were assigned orgasm control and latex, so here's a smutty little peek into the married life of fire spinner Crowley and falconer Aziraphale. You can also catch Bean's amazing art on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/beatenossart! And make sure to click through to the fic to see the full-length version of this art - it is so hot that Tumblr wouldn't let me post it!

Rated E (obviously), 2,142 words

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

They’re back!

After a dismal opening weekend at their local Renaissance Faire, Crowley asks Aziraphale for some help with letting it all go. Aziraphale gives it to him in the best way he knows how.

Excerpt (slightly edited because this fic is filthy):

Crowley shuffled forward and laid his cheek on Aziraphale’s thigh, bracketed by his husband’s knees, nestled against his warm bulk. Aziraphale reached out to stroke his hair, brushing the scarlet strands behind his ear before rubbing a broad hand under his aching jaw. Crowley’s body was clamoring for some sort of relief, but he ignored it, content to breathe in Aziraphale’s scent, one hand wrapped around his ankle.

Aziraphale only let them rest for a moment. “Up here now, my love. I want you on my lap.”

[r2d2lover]

The Truth Slips

Paring: Fred Weasley X Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Shameless smut without plot. Loss of virginity. Prevalence of a drinking game.

Summary: request: “i wanted to request a fred oneshot where reader is shy/bashful and a virgin and fred's his usually cocky self but sorta fuckboy-eee and yanoo they do the dirty… my guilty pleasure”

My guilty pleasure as well. Fuckboy Fred is my creme de la creme. uncanon fun silly Fred one shot.

Part 2

You nervously watch the bottle in the middle spin around. And around. And around. Until it jolted with a stop on you.

Your glance hesitates as it trails up to meet the bottle’s spinner, who’s green eyes light up with glee.

“This is gonna be so good,” Fred Weasley exclaimed with a wicked smile. He leaned back on his elbows, waiting for your next move. Gulping nervously, you reach towards him wondering how a post-Quidditch party turned into a scene from your nightmares.

Everyone who decided to partake in the game whoops and hollers as you finally reach in the middle of the circle and claim your shot glass of the clear liquid. George had suggested that the house play “Veritaserum Roulette” with a stolen bottle of the potion. While preparing N.E.W.T-level potions was a grueling task, the fun came in seeing who was able to snag a bottle from the professor’s watchful eye to share amongst the house. You decided not to inspect your shot glass and threw the liquid back down your throat, then set the shot glass upside down on the ground like you saw in the Muggle movies. You immediately felt your face get hot but you knew it wouldn’t be because you ingested any serum, rather it was the pressure of having all the 7th year Gryffindor staring you down with intense concentration.

“S-someone has to ask a question,” You stuttered, picking the shot glass back up to fidget with it. Initially when the game was introduced, it was simply truth or dare. You could’ve easily backed out if that. Now, you couldn’t stop anything that was to come out of your mouth if you chose the glass with Veritaserum. You hoped that the two questions chosen for you would spare you any embarrassment.

“Do you fancy anyone at this moment?” Angelina leaned forward, taking her hands off of Fred. She was laying herself across Fred all night, non-discreetly showing off the fact that she was his latest… “conquest” as you overheard one of his friends call the girls that swooned over the redhead. Fred shot to popularity after bringing the Gryffindor Quidditch to back to back championships and it only inflated his ego more so than it already was. Despite his poor reputation, you couldn’t deny that the girls dreaming about Fred were warranted in their pursuit. Fred and George didn’t become the star Beaters without a rigorous workout regiment that hardened their muscles and broadened their shoulders. Their rugged appearances paired with their reliable and goofy personalities made them unstoppable.

Fred also happened to be your first friend at Hogwarts, finding you crying after a particularly embarrassing flying class during your first year. He sat with you and assured you that it wasn’t a show of your skills but the result of faulty school broomsticks. From that day, Fred guided you on flying while you tutored him in Potions.

All this time later, you didn’t need flying lessons anymore, but Fred still needed Potions help. You would never admit it, but your favorite part of the week was sitting in the library with Fred absolutely engrossed in homework. You would steal glances as he nipped the end of his quill in deep thought or when he would push his falling hair out of his face. Fred’s worst trait was his lack of spatial awareness and he’d always lean in too close while you explained the more difficult concepts to him. He was always chewing a sharp minty gum and smelled of a piney cologne that reminded you of Christmas. It distracted you often and made you turn beet red when he noticed the change in your diction. This would only make Fred lean in closer, inquiring about your odd behavior. All this time, you fought off any feelings you could have developed because you were realistic. You weren’t the Quidditch player, social butterfly types that Fred dated. Angelina was a prime example. Speaking of her, your desperate attempt to avoid answering her question was null and void when you felt as if you were being puppeted to speak.

“I do,” You squeaked out. Your hands flung to your mouth, but the attempt was feeble. Everyone quickly muttered amongst themselves to figure out the next question to ask you. At this moment, you felt like a criminal on trial. The easy next question was “who?” but the chatter alluded to a deeper question. It surely appalled everyone that you had a crush. You largely avoided the dating scene despite the relentless attempts from Oliver Wood. You thought Oliver was sweet and went on a singular date with him last year, but he was only focused on Quidditch. Much like Fred.

“Who is it? Is it Oliver? If it isn’t, who?” A younger Gryffindor blurred out in excitement and you felt the same puppet feeling in your gut and as you began to answer, Fred reached over and clamped his hand on your mouth. Your face was burning so hot at this moment you were sure you were sweating.

“Hey! We can only ask one more questions. We gotta make them good. Don’t answer those,” Fred instructed, removing his hand from your face. He brushed a piece of hair that fell out of place back behind your ear, making your stomach flip. This was such a ridiculous feeling. “Did you ever bed Oliver?”

“No? N..no!” You raised your eyebrows at Fred, appalled he would ask such a question. Once you opened your mouth, more words flowed out like a broken faucet. “I’ve never bedded anyone. Oliver was always on the Quidditch Pitch and it isn’t exactly the sexiest place in the castle.”

Your statement made the room laugh, which only increased your self consciousness. You shrugged and admitted you weren’t embarrassed at the fact for never having done anything with Oliver or any man. You were already covering your face with both hands, definitely sweating at this point. The group decided to refill on butterbeer, leaving you to seal your mouth shut with a cup of water. Fred stayed next to you, his green eyes filling with a mischievous glint.

“Has the Veritaserum worn off?” Fred asked, tilting his head up to look at you. He kept unwavering eye contact that made your mind go blank.

“Not yet,” You answered, still under the influence of the potion. Hopefully Fred wouldn’t press any further or that it would wear off before then.

“Ah… So, while I have you here, you really never slept with Oliver?” Fred leaned in closer, a smirk forming across your face. You shook your head and reaffirmed what he already knew. “Why not? And don’t give me the Quidditch answer.”

“I was waiting for the right person,” You said lamely, unable to fight the potion’s effect. Fred lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve never fantasized?” Fred blocked you from grabbing a cup of water that would render you voiceless.

“Not about Oliver. Wh-why are you asking?” You fought your thoughts hard to answer Fred’s question as vaguely as possible.

“Hey, I thought I was asking the questions here. I just wanted to know what makes the timid girl that tutors me in Potions tick,” Fred moved so close to you that you could clearly smell his cologne. Luckily, his statement wasn’t laced with a question and the potion took no effect, allowing you to shake your head shyly.

“So you said not Oliver, so who do you think about?” Fred figured out how to narrow his question and before you could stop, your mouth betrayed you.

“Us,” You said, feeling like you broke the dam. Fred’s eyes grew wide, but his body language didn’t change. You were waiting for him to recoil out of instinct or turn red. But he continued to look at you coolly, turning a cup of butterbeer in his hands. Your heart jumped to your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your flight instinct kicked in, but before you could flee from the conversation, Fred grabbed your arm and forced you back down.

“What do you think about us?” Fred’s eyes darkened with an excitement you’ve never seen before. Arousal. You could only take a big gulp before your dirty fantasies about the boy you tutored that you kept locked away spilled out of your mouth for the world to hear.

“I think about you sliding a hand up my skirt in the library. Telling me to be quiet. I want to kiss you until I can’t feel my lips. I want to see you without a shirt on. I think about you pulling my hair back to look at you while you f-“ Your mortification overtook your entire body and you collapsed before you could finish your sentence with a yelp. Fred took a hold of you before you could hit the wall, making sure to take a long look at you. His face still had the cocky smile that you’d grown to love. His strong arm that was wrapped supportively around your waist and got tighter as he tried to figure out his next question. Your squirming didn’t help and you had no choice but to be stuck in his investigation.

“Are you thinking about it right now?” Fred’s eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips and if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, you would’ve had half the mind to kiss him.

“Yes,” You practically slurred, unable to calm down from the situation unfolding before you. Fred ran a comforting hand up and down your back, soothing your nerves only slightly.

“Do you want to go up to my room to show me some of these fantasies?” Fred said blatantly. Of course you did and of course you let him know.

“Yes but,” You took a large inhale trying to ease your racing heart. “But what about Angelina?”

“I don’t want her. I want you,” Fred said definitively, sending a chill down your back. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you into anything just because you don’t have control of your thoughts right now.”

“I want you, Fred,” You said with a confidence that surprised even you. The words were genuine, the feeling of being puppeted by your mouth was gone. As you focused on Fred’s words and realized what he was proposing, you felt a simmering heat between your thighs and that you had been rubbing your thighs together to cause a reliving friction between them. But the clarity brought another realization. “You… you don’t even like me. I’m. I’m not going to be one of your conquests or whatever.”

“Gods, really are clueless are you?” Fred laughed at your out-of-character quip. He used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “Did you really think I was spending all this time in the library thinking about Potions? Why the hell would I take N.E.W.T-level Potions if I was bad at it? I just had to pretend enough for you to keep studying with me.”

Fred’s confession stunned you silent. Without second thought, you wrapped your arms around Fred’s neck and leaned forward to meet his lips with yours. He gave an amused noise, kissing you back gladly. The kiss was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You were fulfilling a need you didn’t know you had, pressing deeper and deeper into the redhead’s mouth. Fred skillfully nipped at your bottom lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you moaned at the unfamiliar feeling. You were a little intimidated by his knowledge and your lack thereof, but the hand he was rubbing on your waist made you forget about anything besides him. He started to move a hand towards your chest and smirked wildly when you whimpered because he pulled away.

“My room. Now,” Fred said breathlessly, practically dragging you up the stairs. He hastily cast a locking and silencing charm before pushing you on the bed. Fred hovered over you, obviously delighted by your misshapen appearance. He had you pinned to the bed with one leg between your thigh and his arms at either side of your head.

The burning in your stomach only grew and Fred continued to kiss you, tasting every bit of you. He snaked a hand up your shirt, palming you through the fabric of your bra. When you least suspected it, he pulled the fabric down, pinching your firmed nipple in between his forefinger and thumb. The sensation made you moan loudly into his kisses and buck your hips up on his thigh.

“That’s a good girl,” Fred purred, continuing to flex his fingers around your breast. “Stop me if you want at any moment.”

“Take off your clothes,” Your voice was so whiny with need that you hardly recognized it. Fred only chuckled and moved his hand away from your chest to start removing your clothes instead of his. You batted his hand away and ran your fingers down his broad chest. You slowly undid his buttons, shaking from nervousness and exhilaration. Every button revealed more of his tanned muscular body that made your mouth watered. Fred continued supporting himself over you, enjoying your desperation.

When you finally managed to shed his shirt, you could barely focus. Your eyes trailed down his chest to the trail of hair on his stomach that pointed directly to the tension in his pants.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” You admitted to Fred, tangling your hands in his hair nervously.

“It’s okay. I think it’s time for me to teach you something to thank you for the last few years,” Fred said cockily, amazing you at how he stayed the same while you were falling apart under his touch. He quickly removed your clothes, tossing them somewhere in the middle of the room.

You felt vulnerable laying there in only your underwear, but Fred dragged his Quidditch-calloused hands down your body as he planted reassuring kisses on your mouth. His mouth followed his hand down until his lips were biting at the sensitive skin of your neck and his hand was rubbing circles on the soft skin of your inner thigh. You moved your hips down to meet his hand pleadingly and he took pity on you.

Fred moved his hands up to feel your arousal, circling his finger just around the bundle of nerves that begged to be touched. He knew exactly what he was doing and held your hips down with his free hand when you let out a whining groan. After teasing you, Fred slipped your underwear to the side, dragging his middle finger up your slick.

“Just how long have you been fantasizing about me?” Fred joked, breathing in as you moaned. He was barely making any movements and he had you reacting like this. Fred dragged his finger back and forth a few times before slowly pressing his middle finger into you, making sure to look up at you in order to spot any discomfort. You squirmed a little at the feeling, but once Fred started curling his finger, your body relaxed around the pleasure.

“More,” Your head sunk into Fred’s bed as your body grew accustomed to the feeling. Fred audibly smirked as he slipped his ring finger in as well, kissing you deeply. You realized his pants were still on and his fingers were speeding up from impatience. You reached down tenderly, running your fingers gently over the tent in his pants. He let out an airy breath before breaking the kiss to look at you.

“Feel it,” Fred encouraged you. His working fingers paused as he directed your hand with his free hand to his pants. Fred placed his hands on top of yours, simulating a squeeze. You copied his movement, earning a low groan from him. “Fuck… I need you right now.”

You shed your undergarments as Fred fumbled with his belt, too overtaken with lust to focus on unclipping the buckle. He finally released the leather binding and dropped his pants quickly, letting his cock fall as well. You watched with big eyes and Fred took your hand again to wrap it around his base.

“Just like that,” Fred praised as you moved your hand up and down. The friction was uncomfortable for you, so you pulled your hand back to lick a stripe up your palm and return it to his cock. The action made Fred roll his eyes back into his head and let his head drop as you continued to pump your hand up and down. “You’re so good, baby.”

Fred’s praise only made you want him more and the wanting in between your thighs got to be unbearable. As Fred was closing his eyes in bliss, you sneakily reached a hand down towards your folds to mimic his earlier actions in an attempt to ease the pressure. Fred felt you moving and quickly opened his eyes, catching you in the act. He tsked and removed your hand, pinning it by your head.

“Impatient are we, love?” Fred chuckled, sending vibrations through your stomach.

“Please,” You begged. “I want to feel you.”

Fred was impatient as you were and shifted his weight back to line himself up with your entrance. You were filled with such an excitement and nervousness that you subdued by reaching up for a kiss. Fred dragged the head of his cock against your slick folds, almost as if he was waiting for permissions.

“Fred. Fuck me,” You drawled, dizzy from anticipation. Fred let out a string of curses, then entered with a slow thrust. You let out a cry at the satisfying pain of feeling your walls stretch around Fred. He checked in again with you to make sure you were comfortable and you gave him a kiss on the cheek for assurance.

“You feel so amazing,” You slurred, eyes shutting from the pleasure. Fred slowly rolled his hips against yours, intertwining his hands with yours. He still had your hand pinned against your head and he was starting to lean forward, delivering soft grunts to your ear.

“You’re so… tight,” Fred mused aloud. You bucked your hips up to meet the friction the penetration was creating and Fred took that as a sign to go faster. He picked up his rhythm that made you sing a chorus of moans that melted into his name. Fred let curses fall out of his mouth and he picked up the speed of his thrusts, fully fucking you into the bed. Your cries only encouraged him.

Fred planted his lips on yours, creating a messy and heavy kiss that dripped with want. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging whenever he would move to a certain spot that made your vision blur. A knotted feeling built up in your stomach like you never felt before.

“Fred… I- I’m-'' Fred understood what you were trying to get at and dropped a hand to your clit, rubbing soft circles that only tightened your stomach. With a cry, you broke from his interlocked hand and wrapped your arms around him as you nipped at his shoulder from the immense wave that washed over you. Fred laughed with such confidence it brought you back to life as he slowed down his thrusts.

“I’m almost there. Do you want me to keep going?” Fred panted, brushing a hair out of your face and kissing you on the forehead.

“Yes, please,” You relaxed back, feeling absolutely crazed. Fred dropped his head again and you reached up to trail kisses down his neck. “You fuck me so well, Fred.”

Your praise sent Fred over the edge and he unsheathed himself with a groan, spilling himself on your stomach. Fred collapsed beside you with a heave, then moved quickly to help clean you off. He climbed back into bed with you, pulling you close with a kiss.

“Telling the truth pays off, huh?”

“That, or Potions class.”

[biggestxsimps]

So Close, Yet So Far

A/N: This is a male villain Y/N x Hero Izuku Midoriya oneshot. There's a bit of flirting occasionally and mentions of killing and deaths.

"So close. But so far." Y/N's voice rang throughout the field.

Somehow, Izuku had found himself in this situation with his ex boyfriend. It was something he never thought would occur. Y/N, out of all people. Becoming a villain and taking the leagues side? Who would have thought.

"Why? Why would you do this?" he asked, his fist clenched tightly as he watched the other taunt him from afar.

Y/N had bumped into Izuku on the way to another mission, but for now, the mission could wait. He wanted to tease him and taunt him a little bit, see how much progress the hero's made since they last met. "Do what? I haven't done anything. It's fun tagging along. Causing trouble, stirring up Spinner and Muscular for no reason at all. The rush of adrenaline that I feel everytime we're on the run. It's truly amazing..." he announced.

Izuku continued looking at Y/N, keeping his eyes on him at all times, making sure he didn't do anything behind his back. It was a fight or flight instinct, He didn't know whether to stay or to leave. Something inside of him wanted to go, but his gut was telling him to stay. He knew Y/N definitely wasn't as sane as what he used to be. Just by looking at him, and their previous conversation just before he had left. "What? You left cause this is more fun? Can you even hear yourself! Don't you understand you're either going to get killed or be sent to jail for the rest of your life? This isn't a joke Y/N. You've still got time to turn yourself around."

Y/N rose a brow, chuckling softly as he crossed his arms, hovering slightly over the ground. "This lifestyle is just more...thrilling. The thrill of being on the verge of death sends such chills down my spine.." he sighed softly, tilting his head back. "I love you Izuku, I really do. But no villain or hero could ever be seen with each other. But again...the risk is something I'm willing to take.." he smirked, shaking his head a bit as he deactivated his quirk, lowering onto the ground.

Izuku sucked in a breath, noticing one of Kurogiri's portals spawning. Y/N looked behind himself, sighing softly and looking at Izuku. "Looks like this is my signal to be heading off now! It was lovely seeing you again Izuku, please..We should go out sometime again." he spoke in a flirtatious tone, smiling slightly as he blew a kiss before he walked into the portal, the mist shutting behind him.

Izuku watched as Y/N left, his cheeks heating up slightly as he clenched his fist slightly tightly, grumbling softly to himself as he walked away, Y/N on his mind.

- Written by Owner 2

[imagineanime2022]

League Of Villains With An S/O Like Marceline The Vampire Queen

Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader, Spinner X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: I’m thinking the LOV (Dabi, Spinner and Shigaraki) with a girlfriend, who has a vampire quirk like Marceline, the vampire queen (from Adventure Time) she has a bass guitar in a shape of an axe, she’s a great singer, she can fly, and she only drinks the color red (or eat the color)

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 You were introduced to Shigaraki when you were young and as you started to develop your quirk became his protector. 🤚 He’d often find that his hand rested on your neck, two fingers over the bite marks in your neck. He matched skin tones with someone… Even if they were a vampire. 🤚 Indifferent to the guitar really, he often thinks that it gets in the way on more stealthy missions but he liked that you were able to fight without it, and found more joy in watching you punch someone across the room. 🤚 Sometimes people didn’t see you until it was too late, you might be the last thing they see after disrespecting Shigaraki or injuring him in some way.

No one could see you, you had been sitting on the bar behind Shigaraki, your legs dangling down behind him as he leant against your shins looking at the new recruits, Dabi and Toga. You were watching them carefully, your guitar rested behind the bar close enough to grab if you needed it, they talked but you noticed the movement of Dabi before Shigaraki did, you grabbed the guitar from behind the bar swinging it around stopping just short of Dabi’s neck “be careful now.” You warned, you held the forearm of your free arm resting on top of Shigaraki’s head and you rested your chin on your own arm. “Are you sure that you need him?” “We need them all unfortunately.” Shigaraki answered “Plus as annoying as he is, I believe he’s going to be useful.” “He does seem like the most capable of a lot.” You shrugged. “Mmm.” He hummed “you can drop the axe.” You sat up as you pulled back the axe, it rested on your shoulder as you slumped forward. “What?” Shigaraki mumbled as he looked at you posture. “I don’t trust him.” You answered as Dabi smirked at you, eyes easily moving over you seemingly assessing you. “So who’s the bodyguard?” Dabi asked. “None of your business.” Shigaraki answered as he turned his back to them, the conversation over as he rested the handheld console that he was playing on your thighs, as you played with his hair and Kurogiri showed the new arrivals to the rooms they could use if they wanted.

Dabi

🔥 Dabi met you before he ended up in the league, he actually went looking for you after hearing about you through the thugs that he was beating to a pulp. 🔥 Dabi then watched you like an absolute creeper for a couple of weeks, gathering information and trying to figure out just what your quirk was. 🔥 He definitely liked your style, the way you dressed, carried yourself and spoke to other people. 🔥 He approached you when he got all the information that he could from watching you.

You were sitting on the roof of the building watching people go by, there were a number of different objects next to you that had been drained of their colour, Dabi didn’t think that it was sunny enough to warrant the hat that you had decided to wear “thought vampires couldn’t sit in the sun.” He finally said, you glanced back at him, eyes moving over him for a second before going back to the people milling around under you. “Vampires can sit in the sun as long as we’re protected from direct sunlight.” You answered. “You’ve been watching me, what do you want?” “You knew?” He asked. “Thought you were sneaky?” You asked. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me.” “Yeah?” He asked, he stepped forward and you leaned back resting on your hands. “I wouldn’t get too close, you know that guitar isn’t just a fashion statement.” You warned him. “I know.” He nodded “I’ve seen you use it, impressive.” He continued forward until he was sitting on the ledge next to you. “What do you want?” You asked. “You seem bored.” He mumbled. “I’m bored of you dodging the question, what do you want?” You asked. “I want to offer you a prospect.” He answered. “Uh huh.” You grunted. “I want to take down someone and you could help me.” He answered. “Who?” You asked. “What?” He asked. “Who do you want to take down?” You asked. “Endeavour.” He answered. “Now that is a challenge.” You smirked, your fangs flashing in the sun. “You’d better tell me how you plan to do this and I’ll decide whether I join you.”

Spinner

🦎 Spinner was very good at withholding judgement until he'd met someone or seen someone in action which is why he never judged you for your supposed vampire attributes. 🦎 He honestly thinks the guitar is pretty cool, an instrument that doubles as weapons, and always loves when people question whether it’s a real weapon or not. 🦎 On that note Spinner never gets tired of you singing, whether you're just singing to yourself or singing for the rest of the gang (Magni and Toga are often the ones that make requests). 🦎 Your ability to go from a warm presence to a threatening entity, was honestly amazing to him.

Spinner had lost track of you a while back, you had been split up during the ambush by Redestros men, he had seen evidence of you being around considering there were objects that were primary red that had lost their colour, if you were drinking during battle you were having you use your abilities in excessive amounts. Spinner should have been paying more attention when the hulking weight smashed into his side, he recognised the grunts, it was you in your larger bat form. “You need a hand?” He asked. “I mean if you're not too busy.” You shrugged as he looked behind you at the group that had followed the larger man, he noted that you were changing back to your humanoid form and bass guitar thrown over your shoulder. “Are you hungry, do you need anything?” He asked. “No there was enough around here to get what I needed now, I just really want these guys to go away.” You answered, swinging the axe end of the base cutting the closest man’s head clean off. “Wow.” He mumbled eyes widening and cheeks heating, if his skin wasn’t green you would have seen a blush. “You okay?” You asked a smirk taking over your face as you dodged a hit from one of others, Spinner napped out of it throwing a dagger landing it straight in his heart. “I’m fine.” He mumbled as you giggled, killing yet another one of them before moving over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come on let’s finish this, find the boss and get this over with so we can get back to doing nothing.” You ordered. “Sure thing.” He chuckled, cutting down another attacker.

Request Here!!

[kookslastbutton]

high tide ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: Due to Taehyung's job as a cruise ship Captain, you are constantly miles away from each other. Weekly phonecalls help and this one gets a little nasty and a lot sweet.

Pairing: cruise ship captain!taehyung x fem!reader (feat. Yeontan)

AU/genre: PWP, fluff, smut, tiny angst, established relationship, aged-up, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: dom!taehyung, slight brat!reader, phone s*x, f*ngering, handj*b, mutual m*sturbation, taehyung calls oc sl*t once, some d*rty talk, mentions of v*berator, crying, missing each other, + taehyung has a special suprise for oc vv sweet

Now Playing: Beautiful, Versace on the Floor, Photograph…

A/N: wrote this on a whim after I saw Taehyung in that white captian outfit. Took a slightly different direction than planned but i like it. Hope you do too! 💞

“Two more days baby,” he says through the phone, loosening the tie from around his neck. “Then I’ll be home.”

“I miss you.” You nearly whine the words but who could blame you? Taehyung’s been at sea for 10 weeks straight. You’ve been calling as much as you can but they’re never as long as you’d like. Between the ship, the crew, and countless other responsibilities to keep track of, plus sleeping when he can–which never amounted to more than six hours a night, your boyfriend had a tight schedule.

Of course, he wouldn’t be able to talk to you for more than fifteen minutes a few nights a week.

You expected it.

“Someone wants to say hi.” You glance beside you, and a pair of beady dark eyes stare up at you. You’re boyfriend’s dog rests his head on your lap. “Say hi to daddy Yeontan.” You hold your phone near him.

“Yeontan,” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles. “Yeontan, are you behaving for mommy?” Yeontan quirks his head, unsure of the sudden noise. “Yeontan,” he tries again, this time making light kissing sounds.

At that, Yeontan lets out a yip, then another. You roll your eyes hearing Taehyung chuckle. “Good boy.”

Yeontan lets another yip and sits up on high alert. You bring a hand down to stroke his fur, calming him before you bring the phone up to your ear. “I think you got him too excited. He thinks you’re coming back tonight.”

“Well, you did use the D word.” Taehyung plays with the small box next to him. The sharp flipping and snapping of the lid cracks through the speaker.

“What are you doing?” You’re unable to ignore the sound. It’s harsh on your ear. “Are you doing something?”

Taehyung sets the box down instantly. You hear it squeak against a glass surface. “Sorry,” he coos. “It’s just an empty box that held cufflinks the crew surprised me with the other day. Messing around with it has become a habit I’ve developed recently.”

You hum. “Like a fidget spinner?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies. He smiles at the dainty box. “Something like that.”

“Oh, well that was nice of them to get you. Though I’m not shocked. You’ve been taking good care of them over the last seven years.”

Taehyung hears your words but falls silent. He whips his head towards his nightstand, viewing the photo of him and you in a burgundy-red picture frame. It was a gorgeous day out. Taehyung had just gotten promoted to captain and you were right by his side, arms around his waist with that knock-out smile he loves so much.

You’ve been together for eight years now and eight magnificent years they’ve been. Fancy dinners, late-night movies, going to the jazz, along with a handful of quarrels soon followed by make-up sex–you’ve done it all. And while neither of you could fathom being without the other, eight years have quickly turned into eight minutes with the amount of time the seas called him.

He hasn’t told you but every time he boarded the ship, watching your form get smaller and smaller, he felt gut-wrenching guilt settle in the pit of his stomach.

Taehyung didn’t want you waiting and yet he knew you were. Every ten weeks, he’d go to sea and then return for ten weeks. The worst part was that even when he was home, it was like a countdown until the process repeated itself.

Yes, you were constantly in limbo, waiting for the next step.

He hated it.

“Hey are you still with me?” It’s your stark voice that shakes Taehyung back into the conversation. He blinks away from the framed photo, clutching his phone.

“I’m still here,” he replies. “Listen __, I want you to know that in a couple of days, I’ll have something for you…to make up for all our lost time.”

“Hmm, is that so…” Your voice lowers, a sultry undertone with it. “Can I know what it is, Captain?”

Taehyung clears his throat thickly, palms feeling a tad sweaty and pants tight. “No, no you can’t,” he murmurs. “You’ll find out when you’re supposed to.”

“Two days is too long. Tell me now and maybe I’ll give you something in return unless you wanna risk it.”

Taehyung smirks, aware of your taunting. “Stick your fingers anywhere near your sopping cunt and that’s all you’ll be getting for a week.”

“Being that it’s the only thing I have gotten for the last ten weeks, fine by me,” you counter. “Oh, except for that pretty pink vibrator I got the other day. Does wonders for the female body.”

“Fucking brat.” Taehyung grips his thigh, struggling to repulse images of your sprawled-out body on your shared bed, broken moans leaving your lips. He hasn’t touched your soft skin or felt the burn of your fingers on his skull for weeks.

Somehow you’ve been perfectly satisfied though, which isn’t necessarily a huge problem due to his absence, but he’d rather not be reminded. Especially when it’s coming from a toy that likely couldn’t make you scream as loud as he could. “When I get home, that damn vibrator is the first to go. So enjoy yourself for a couple more days because it isn’t going to last.“

“Uh huh, uh huh.” You feign disinterest. “Same threats as usual. The sea has made you so dull and boring.”

“Yeah, think so? Well go ahead then slut. Make yourself come any way you’d like right now.” Taehyung waits for you to own up to your shit but you hesitate. “What’s the matter? Wanna take it all back?”

“Taehyung…I was just–”

“Uh uh,” he interrupts. “It’s far too late for any of that. You made a statement and you made me horny. So you know what we’re gonna do?” He reaches down his pants, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist. The sound of metal clangs against each other, before you hear a zipper gliding down.

“I swear Taehyung, if you make me listen to you jerk off right now I’m hanging up and not calling back.”

“Oh and I believe you so much,” he snickers, pushing his pants down enough to take his erect cock in hand. Taehyung has a massive cock so the push was generous, let’s say. “I think you want me to get off for you don’t you?”

His deep, thick voice rings through your entire body. Arousal slowly pooling between your thighs. It’s been a good six weeks since you and Taehyung last did anything like this. He’d either have to go to bed or your phone call would typically cut out before you got the chance.

Taehyung spits on his hands before taking his length in his palm. “Answer me,” he says but you’re too preoccupied with picturing his beautifully sleek fingers gripping his big, hard cock so tight it makes you drool. All you reply with is a weak ‘uh’.

His groans are hot and rough as he starts a steady pace. You ask if he’ll turn his camera on and make this a video call instead but he only laughs wickedly in response. “You think this is for you sweetheart? For your pleasure?” His breaths quicken, cock leaking precum you bet. If only you could be there. “Well it’s not,” he quips with a broken grunt.

“Please, Tae.” You lean your head back on the headboard, closing your eyes. A hand slips up your bare thigh and slips under your shirt to settle on your abdomen.

“Oh god–fuck!” Taehyung cusses loudly and your knuckles tense. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he curses again. When you draw the same hand down your core and straight to your wet center, you let out a satisfied moan. Taehyung doesn’t miss it, however.

“No, no–no, I don’t want,” he struggles to form the simple words, not stopping his ruthless movements. “Shit–“

You bite your lip and stuff two fingers inside, curling them as far as you can. It shoots spikes of pleasure up your spine and your hips buck up in response. “Taehyung, I wish I could see you. I wish I could be there.” Wetness pricks the corner of your eyes as you push into yourself and thumb your clit. Your thoughts are consumed by your boyfriend doing nearly the exact same hundreds of miles away. “I miss you so much Tae,” you gasp.

Taehyungs sweating bullets. His hair has gotten messy, a few strands stick to his forehead. He’s inches away from his high and he’s so pissed that you’re touching yourself when this was supposed to be him punishing you or some shit but he can’t stop either of you from continuing.

“God I miss you too baby. I miss seeing your gorgeous face and making you laugh. Your laugh is so goddamn pretty. I miss waking up beside you, my arms wrapped around you as I think to myself how lucky I am to have you with me for so long. And I really fucking wish it was your hands getting me off instead of my own. I’m so sorry I’m away so much and for so long.”

“Don’t apolo–apologize.” You add another finger, hot liquid coating them and already running down your thighs. “I understand your job is important to you. We’ll see each other soon and I’ll have you back to myself.”

“No, baby listen to me. Was gonna tell you in person but I’m stepping down. Fuck I’m there!” Taehyung releases on himself, his cum dripping down the length of his cock.

"What?" Pleasure washes over you as you release soon after, hands sticky and out of breath. "You're doing what?"

"Jimin's gonna be the new captain sweetheart. I can't keep going away every two to three months. I'm gone for half the year and I just cant keep doing it. I'll get a job closer to home somewhere. I just wanna be with you. I wanna..." Taehyung pauses. "__, I wanted this to be all romantic and grand but I don't think I can wait. That box I told you that were cufflinks the crew gave me? I lied. It's a ring. I bought it in Toulouse, France for you because I wanna stay with you as long as possible—"

"Oh my God oh my god Taehyung...." More tears cover your cheeks. You didn't think the day would come.

"Eight years is long enough isn't it? What do you say?" Taehyung's voice is shaky. He glances at the tiny box again, the one with your ring it. He doesnt reach for it because, well you know. But he can't wait to put it on your finger if you say what he hopes you will.

"Mhm, yes yes I'll marry you! Fuck you make me so happy." You really, really can't wait to see Taehyung in two days—he's your fiancee now.

"You dont know how happy you make me __. And when I see you in two day, I'm doing this again just so you know. The way I planned."

You smile through the phone, overwhelmed with emotions. "You don't have to. This was more than enough. And you don't have to quit being a captain really, its what you've wanted for so long."

"I want something different now," Taehyung says. "We deserve this __. Something new and not from miles away where we only communicate over the phone. Plus, now that you're my fiancee....soon bride and all—"

"Okay slow down tiger," you drawl, sneaky suspicion in your tone. "No babies for the first year or two, at least."

Taehyung fakes a loud sigh. "If my fiancee insists. No TaeTae juniors, yet."

"Hey! They'll also be mine, thank you very much!" You pound the bed with your fist. Taehyung laughs wholeheartedly.

"Okay, ours," he replies. "By the way, thank you for tonight. It was really hot, you were really hot."

"Back at you, Captain."

You giggle to yourself, thoughts wandering— you're getting married. Who are you telling first? The wedding planner duh!

A/N: uhm idk why but writing this couple gave me different feelings than usual...anyway Lmk your thoughts otherwise thanks for reading lovlies 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: Don’t know how this college will show up on tumblr, so let’s see. This is an old, old idea that I got one day after I drew all over my arm in eyeliner when I was in class. It was actually really pretty, and thus the idea for this was born. Due to my ADHD it’s hard to focus in class, and because of that I need some sort of stimulation to make my brain think. This was written with an attention disorder in mind for the reader.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Location: Marvel > Natasha Romanoff > Oneshots

Warnings: None, just a small drabble with fluff

Words: 900ish

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“We need to move in from this direction instead and then we can carry them out.” Bucky voiced from his place against the wall. 

I didn’t bother to follow the conversation, as this was the fourth time that they’ve been over editing the plan even when the first plan was perfect. 

I inwardly groaned and leaned my head back, moving my arms and stretching. Enjoying the feel of my back popping. The debate about how we were to get in was still going, and I ended up digging through my jacket pockets. Damn, I had a fidget in here this morning…

Still tuning everyone out, I found an eyeliner pen. Wait, wasn’t I looking for that yesterday?

You have got to be kidding me. I was. My habit, or rather, unconscious habit of losing things wasn’t fun. I misplaced things often enough to where I kept trackers on several items I used daily. Everyone idolizes having an attention disorder until you realize just how fucking shitty it is.

Seriously, I can’t get through the day without misplacing something. Or caffeine. Both. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ears as I pulled the cap off the pen. It was one of the oil-based ones, which meant it was easy to clean off of skin. Laying my hand on the table I started sketching some bones on my fingers, then moved to my hand. Keeping tabs on the conversation, I finished my hand and moved to my arm. Instead of bones I just drew swirls, some small stars, and honestly whatever came to mind. I did the same with my other hand, albeit a bit messier because it wasn’t my dominant hand that was doing the drawing.

“We’re done with this for now. Let’s go over this tomorrow.” Steve said as he clapped his hands together, and shut off the screen. I glanced up only to meet Natasha’s eyes. As soon as she caught my gaze she smiled. I smiled back at her.

Everyone in the tower knew I had an attention disorder, and if just given my fidgets I would be fine. It turns out both of the scientists and I share that in common, and more often than not we were inventing some sort of new fidget toy. Of course, after the lighter-knife-spinner combination, we were a bit limited on our creations. Still, we got along great.

Everyone slowly got up and headed out to wherever they would be going, and I pulled out my phone and earbuds. Donning my jacket and tugging my phone in a pocket, I started my music and headed out, headless of Natasha calling after me.

I got to my floor and immediately shoved my shoes and socks off, along with my jacket and pants. I was bored enough that the thought of doodling over my legs sounded entertaining enough that I discarded my pants as well, kicking them over the back of the couch and flopping down onto it. I grabbed the remote and started from where I left off of (Favorite show) and went back to work. Eventually my feet were covered, and I moved up to my calves, then my knees, and soon enough my entire legs were covered. I drew up my arms as best I could, and fixed my hands. 

“So, this was the result?” Natasha’s voice scared the shit out of me, causing a huge streak of eyeliner to mess up my doodles on my arms. I turned towards her, mouth open in shock. She huffed a laugh and went around the couch, sitting down next to me.

She held out her hand. “May I?” She asked. I handed her the pencil and she gently took my arm, and continued my drawing up my arm and onto my shoulder, before lightly drawing them on my neck, and eventually my cheek. 

“These are really pretty...have you considered getting these tattooed?” She asked me as she switched sides and started working on my other arm. 

“I have, but I also realized that I’d want them different as soon as I saw them.” I replied. 

“That makes sense. You typically don’t like things to be permanent, they always need to be changing.” 

“Yeah, some permanent things. Such as tattoos, furniture, clothes. I change those often. But people however...they’re always changing.” 

“Ah, so in relationships you wouldn’t be deterred if someone wanted something permanent with you?” She questioned, tracing the pencil up my neck and onto my cheek, leaning closer to me. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I prefer that type of stability in my life.” I whispered as she leaned closer to me. 

“Do you want something permanent?” 

“I do.” I leaned closer and closed the gap between us.

[sourpatchys]

Hi! My name is Sour, I’m so glad you found my little piece of the internet, I’m honored to have you!

I like to write goofy little stories for my favorite characters in my free time, you can find more about me here!

I absolutely love when other people in this wonderful community give me ideas based on their own preferences! If you’re one of those wonderful people please take a look at my guidelines <3

You make the world a better place and I’m so glad you’re here!

❤️=fluff

❤️‍🔥=smut

💔=angst

—

Ongoing series

Lost connection (on hiatus) — Daryl Dixon

The Past, The Present, And the Future (slow updates) — Tomura Shigaraki

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing You Ever Did and Let Me Love You Anyways — Tomura Shigaraki

—

Daryl Dixon

Masterlist

Including Oneshots and Headcannons

—

Logan/Wolverine

Tea prompts ❤️

Girl dad ❤️

—

Tomura Shigaraki

Thorns'N Roses 4.5k words ❤️❤️‍🔥

Life in Carnet 2.2k words ❤️

Petals 870 words 💔

—

Tomura Shigaraki headcannons

My Personal Headcannons ❤️

Headcannons ❤️❤️‍🔥

Random things

Tea prompts ❤️

Surgery❤️

Soft yandere

—

Tomura Shigaraki Drabbles

Selfish

Jealousy

—

Spinner MHA

Headcannons❤️

Surgery❤️

—

Dabi MHA

Headcannons

Surgery❤️

—

Multi-Fandom

Period cramps❤️

Hate

[sophsiaaa]

closet

ONESHOT

pairing: tomura shigaraki x fem reader

summary: “Just one party,” they said, “It’ll be fun.” Fun was what now had you standing in the dark, barely three feet of room between you and Tenko Shimura, the guy you hated most.

or Tenko and reader get roped into playing seven minutes in heaven and have hate sex.

notes: College AU. Just an old ao3 oneshot I wrote that I'm crossposting here.

chapter contains: explicit smut

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

You weren’t one for playing these types of games – locked in a closet with a boy you didn’t know or didn’t like, forced to awkwardly swap spit while the real party carried on beyond the closed-door. Seven Minutes in Heaven was an overrated game anyway. Stupid. Childish. Nobody actually played it. 

Or so you thought.  

The party was pretty big. Happened at the end of every semester. Some off-campus thing at one student or another’s house. Most students at the college knew about it since a few members of the recreation club went advertising at orientation, handing out flyers that listed parties and pub crawls throughout the semester, including this one.  

You’d never been before, despite being in your second year. Parties, especially ones that left STDs and ODs in their wake, typically weren’t your thing. Sure, you liked to socialise and let loose every now and then, but the recreation club had a reputation, and you didn’t need to get mixed up in their shit when you had exams crammed down your throat. 

And yet, it was the end of semester, exams were done, and your friends had talked you into it for the night. The house was alive with people, drinkings sloshing over red cups and clinking in bottles, music punding through the walls, dark lights washing everything in red. It was nice. Or at least, it had started out that way.

“Just one party,” your friends said, “It’ll be fun.”  

Fun was what now had you standing in the dark, barely three feet of room between you and Tenko Shimura, the guy you hated most.  

—

Tenko had no idea why he’d agreed to come to this stupid party.  

Spinner, the idiot , had talked him into it. He’d claimed they needed to get out and meet more people.  

“No offence Tenko,” he said on game last night, “but I figured I’d have more than one friend by the time I was in second year.”  

Tenko scoffed. “As if I care. What, you think you’ll find friends at some idiot’s house party?"  

Silence stretched between them over the headset, punctuated only by shots from enemy players, before Spinner said, “Your girlfriend’s going.”  

It took him a minute to figure out who he was talking about before Tenko shouted down the mic, “She’s not my fucking girlfriend!”  

Spinner’s laughter followed by friendly fire was how Tenko remembered that conversation ending, but at some point, he guessed he’d agreed to go to the party. It had started with him in a foul mood, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans, hoodie up and antisocial despite the clearly loose mood. But slowly, the ordeal improved. Spinner found them some drinks and they mostly ended up talking to some other comp sci majors and a few engineering students about games. He oddly found that he didn’t hate making friends, especially when his blood was burning with the kick of alcohol.  

That was until he wound up in a big circle with a bunch of strangers. He could’ve just left. Got up and gone home. But the drinks made everything a bit blurred and just sitting down as the world spun around him felt too nice. Spinner was still with him, he was sure, saying something about girls, when Tenko noticed you sit down in the circle too.  

Your friend dragged you down beside her and kept your arm looped through hers. You looked a little too sober – no flush to your cheeks, no messy hair. He hated that about you. Hated your uptight posture, your perfect grades, and too-good-for-him attitude.  

He’d met you last year in a shared class – some core unit for all first years. You were paired together for an assignment and at first glance he knew he hated you. You, with your put together outfits and made-up face, always looking at him like his ragged clothes and ugly scars weren’t good enough. You, who constantly texted about the assignment, dragging him out of bed so you could complain about his ideas.  

And Tenko knew you hated him too. Hated the way he spoke to you like you were nothing but a nagging bitch, hated how he could keep up with you when it came to academics. He was sure you hated him for tanking the assignment on purpose, just because he wanted to piss you off. Ever since that first semester, you’d shot him every dirty look, whispered every obscenity when he passed you, even once cutting the line in front of him at the college café, turning back with a self-satisfied smile.  

He hated you. 

So, when your narrowed eyes met his across the circle, he sat up a little straighter and shot you the most arrogant, bitter smirk he could muster. This was gonna be good.  

“Okay!” A blonde girl at the center of the circle clapped her hands together and the talking died down. “The game is Seven Minutes in Heaven. I spin this bottle twice-” She held up an empty glass beer bottle, giving it a twirl as she placed it beneath her foot. “-and the two people it lands on go into that locked closet to do whatever they want.”  

The circle erupted into a chorus of noise. Some drunken cheers, other groans. A few people got up and left and a few came to sit down.  

“Kissing?” another girl asked.  

“Or whatever.” The blonde grinned wickedly.  

“Hurry up and start already,” said a guy with what looked to be burns and piercings.  

“Like he’s getting any,” Tenko whispered to Spinner.  

“Like we are,” Spinner said back. His cheeks were a little pink, and he looked like he’d just walked out of a washing machine, queasy and bracing the floor.  

Tenko barked a laugh. “Shit, you’re actually nervous about this dumb game?”  

“Aren’t you?”  

He shrugged. “Not like it matters.”  

The blonde girl bent over and spun the bottle. Round and round, it went. A dizzy glass pointer, ready to snatch good students and turn them into closet-fucked social pariahs.

It landed on you.  

Tenko’s face lit up with genuine happiness. His grin was sharp, malicious. Your face paled, leaving you with a sickly look that he was sure meant you were regretting being sober right about now. It was too good. He couldn’t fucking believe it. A girl like you getting fucked in a closet, brought low to the level of those she looked down on.

He was too engrossed in his sick glee to even notice when the bottle spun again and landed squarely on him. 

—

The circle erupted into a circus oooo’s and giggles all around as the guy you hated most was made the glass bottle’s second victim. Tenko didn’t even seem to realise until his friend – Spinner, you thought his name was – elbowed him in the ribs. His carmine eyes darted to the center, then, wide as bottomless pools, up to you. You swore his adams apple bobbed.  

Everything from there moved too quickly. Your friend had to literally drag you from your seat. You weren’t sure who, or even if Tenko was dragged. But seconds later you were locked in together.  

The closet was dark, night-black save the small yellow light seeping in through the bottom crack of the door. As your eyes adjusted, you realised it had been emptied of whatever it used to store and was now three-square feet of carpet and bare walls.  

You were pressed against the door. Tenko leaned on the wall across from you, almost stiff with his hands shoved into his pockets. He refused to meet your gaze. 

The still silence pulled taut between you, rife with months of hate and resentment.  

“Why are you here?” you eventually asked.  

Tenko stared at the floor, black hair falling into his face. “Why the hell do you care?”  

“Because I didn’t take you for the friendly type.”  

He raised a brow and took you in – short dress, pushed-up cleavage, exposed clavicle. “Ha, I didn’t take you for the slutty type.”  

Your eyes became daggers, onces you wished to poke him with, though you doubted he could see them in this dark. He was so frustrating. Such a fucking asshole. And for no reason. You’d never done anything to him. Were always nice during your assignment. He was just a sour, bitter man.  

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathed, turning around to jiggle the handle. “Fuck. Locked in.”  

“Yeah, they said that.” 

Deep breaths. You reeled around at him, stepping forward. “Then what do you suggest, hmm? That we just sit here?”  

“It’s only seven minutes.” Tenko shrugged and you noticed the way his black hoodie barely moved. You swore it used to be baggier. 

“Yeah, but-” 

“What? Can’t keep your hands off me for seven minutes?” His face slipped into a sly grin, the jagged scar stretching over his lips.  

You wanted to yank his lips off. You wanted to punch him.  

You gave him a coy smile instead, folding your hands behind your back and leaning against the door again. “More concerned about how painful your blue balls will be by the time the seven minutes are up.”  

“You wish." He sneered at you. That was the look you were used to. "As if I’d want to fuck you.”  

“Aw, you’re nervous.” 

“Fuck you!” 

“So, you do wanna fuck me then?” You sighed condescendingly, unable to stop the built-up anger from spewing out. “I always knew it. A pathetic loser like you, that’s probably why you failed our assignment. Too caught up in virgin-daydreams about a girl actually touching you.”  

Tenko’s jaw literally dropped. His fingers bunched into fists in his pockets, and he stared slack at you, pupils shrunk in the red of his iris. Finally, you’d made him speechless. And it felt fucking good. 

Though not for long. He stepped forward, hands withdrawn from his pockets. There was no where to go but further against the door as he came right up into your face. Those angry red eyes bore into yours, nose an inch away as he stood over you. This close, you could count the lines of scars around his eyes. Your heart was beating out of your chest. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he finally said and there was a chuckle in his rocksalt-rasp voice that made your stomach drop. “I do want to fuck you. And since you keep talking about it, I'll give it to you.”  

Tenko pressed his lips to yours in a mockery of a kiss.  

Your back went flush against the door as his face bullied you against it. His lips cut a rough kiss, sharp with chapping. A broad hand found your sternum, holding you in place and you gasped. That was enough for him to push his tongue in too. It sent an unwelcome thrill up your spine, the wetness, the cloying taste and smell of drinks that clung to the walls of his mouth. Your teeth clinked together as he worked a brutal rhythm, licking into your mouth like he truly never had kissed a girl before, almost trying to swallow you whole.  

You bit his tongue and a metallic taste quickly flooded everything. Tenko pulled back, dots of slick blood coating his lips. He looked like he might truly kill you. Then, he laughed.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, spitting the blood onto the carpet.  

“Me? You kept saying I wanted to fuck you.” He wiped his sleeve. “Just giving you want you want – to be right.”  

“You’re fucking disgusting.”  

“Yeah?” He tipped his head, gaze now alight with something you didn’t want to put a name to. “That why I felt you shiver? You fucking liked it.” 

You pressed your lips together in silent fury. Your head was pounding. Your body was pounding. He... he... 

“Oh my god, you fucking did.” He huffed out a laugh. “Who would have thought, this whole time-” 

You shut him up with a hard shove to the chest. Tenko grunted as his back it the wall. “Shut up! I didn’t like it. You’re a terrible kisser.”  

He rolled his eyes. “Like you could do better.”  

“You don’t think I could?” 

“I know you couldn’t.”  

For a moment the two of you glared into each other's souls, bodies pulsing with hot anger. Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his hoodie. You smiled softly up at him. “Really?” you whispered as you inched closer. You hovered your soft lips above his. “You sure about that?”  

“Yeah...” His breathing hitched.

You hummed low in your throat, and caught up in the moment, lost of all reason, pressed your lips to his. This time, the kiss was soft. His lashes fluttered shut, and you caught the low whine that escaped his throat when you worked his mouth open, tongue gently melding with his. Tenko’s hands tentatively found your hips, which surprised you. Everything about this surprised you, but the more you kissed him, the more you felt like you didn’t want to stop.  

He gripped your hips a little tighter, drawing your body taut against his. Against your thigh, you felt his arousal, and it shocked you enough into drawing back, ready with an sarcastic retort. But Tenko seemed done with fighting. He flipped you around, baring down on you as he buried his face in the juncture of your neck, sucking marks into your skin.  

You gasped and panted beneath him, Unsure of what to do. Unsure of what you wanted to do. And when he pressed a thigh between your legs, you stopped thinking. “Fuck .” 

Tenko smirked against your skin. “Oh, you like that?”  

He rolled his thigh again, and this time yours clenched around it on instinct.  

“Stop that...”  

“Why? You clearly like it.” 

He did it again and again, steadily building a jerky rhythm that brushed your clothed clit each time. You rode against his thigh unconsciously as he laid kisses against the column of your throat. His hands clumsily found your breasts, groping with the eagerness of a man who’d never been this close to a woman before. He panted against your skin. “Fuck, these feel nice. Let me see.”  

“What?” you managed to get out through your haze.

You looked down and wished you hadn’t. Tenko’s pupils were so wide that black engulfed all red. His cheeks were flushed in the dark, scars etched out in pale lines across his sharp-featured face. He looked sinfully good, and his filthy mouth made him even better.  

“Let me see your pretty tits,” he said, pulling at the hem of your dress.  

He got it down in one swipe, your breasts spilling out from the fabric. You wished you’d worn a bra.  

His eyes shot down, followed by his mouth. He pressed the flat of his bloody tongue against a nipple, licking up to your collarbone like a truly desperate un-fucked man. His head bobbed back down and he sucked a nipple into his mouth, fingers latching onto the other hastily. Your head fell back so hard it hit the wall and left your whole body throbbing.  

“Tenko, we shouldn’t...”  

He groaned then, actually groaned with your tit in his mouth and pulled off with a pop, wet saliva hardening the nipple in the cold air. “Say my name again,” he said, both hands kneading your breasts as he kissed you hard. “Tell me you feel good. Say it.” 

It hit you then, just how lust-clouded he was. How addicted he seemed to you not only liking this but liking that he was doing it. You hated him, and he hated you, and yet right now you wanted nothing more than to give him that satisfaction.  

“I do like it.” You turned your face away, shame mingling with want. “I like it when you touch me.” 

Tenko looked at you like you’d just given him the moon, pressing his face into your shoulder again as he caught his breath and kept on with your breasts. You canted your hips forward, seeking the friction of his hardness pressed against you and he gasped, grinding his cock against you in little ruts. 

You decided that hating him could wait till tomorrow.   

“Touch me, Tenko,” you whispered, taking his hand and guiding it between your legs.  

He let you eagerly, pushing his long, spidery fingers beneath the fabric of your underwear and into the slickness of your folds.  

“You’re wet,” he said, sliding his fingers through them, catching on your clit with every torturous stroke. “Fuck, you’re actually wet.”  

He lowered himself to his knees, but you caught his sleeve, pulling him back up.  

“No time. Let’s just...”  

He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up and crowded you against the wall as he scrambled to unbutton his pants. You fingers met his and you helped each down his jeans, the waistband of his boxers, until his cock bobbed free. It was strained with need, long and weeping at the tip as you pumped it gently for him. His shoulders caved and he shuddered at your touch, blushing with each squeeze and stroke of your hand. 

"You're good at this," he said fucking into your hand and shutting his eyes, lost in the pleasure. "Feels so much better than-"

"Your own hand?" You ran your thumb over the slit and nipped his neck. 

"Shut up." 

"Make me."

"Oh, I fucking will." Tenko bared his teeth in a near-feral grin as he pushed your underwear aside. He slid his cock through the wetness of your cunt in a way that had you both sucking in breath. "Gonna break you." 

You hiked a leg up and around his hip drawing him close. “Then fucking do it."  

With that, Tenko pushed the head inside. He barreled over, the squeeze and tug you had on him left him looking dazed. He rested his forehead against yours, shaking as you clenched around his sensitive tip.  

“You’re so fucking tight... shit...” Through gasps he pushed all the way in. It stung, the stretch of him bullying his way inside, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning. When he bottomed out, he stilled, and you could feel his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck you feel so good,” he panted. “So warm. So perfect.”  

You tightened your leg around his hip, pressing your heel into the base of his spine. “Move.” 

He pulled back slowly, watching the way you gripped him as he slid out. Truly, you'd never seen a man more pussy-drunk than this. The thought that you'd done this to him, a man you hated so much, had lightning-pride shooting through you. Tenko slowly pushed back in, deeper than the first time. He fucked himself into you, each rut of his hips dragging his pubic bone against your clit. Your back dug into the wall he pinned you to, but you didn’t even care. He was panting into your mouth, eyes lidded with want. He was yours, in this closet, willing to do whatever you asked. 

“Have you ever... thought about doing this before?” you asked through his shallow thrusts. 

Tenko grunted, the sudden smack of his hips giving him away more than his fucked-out smile. “Have you?”  

You couldn’t help your own grin. “I asked first.” 

“Yes." His tongue met yours in a sloppy kiss as his thrusts grew erratic. He wouldn’t last long. He groaned into your mouth. “Wanted to bend you over a desk and... hah... fuck the attitude out of you ages ago.”  

You moaned, clenching tighter around him, and he pressed a hand across your mouth to keep you quiet. "Shh, don't want everyone knowing how bad you like this, do you?"

“Fuck you,” you spat, words muffled as he pressed his middle and index fingers into your mouth. You bit down on the fingers, tongue sucking around them as your teeth left indents in his pale skin.  

Tenko huffed a laugh and his hips stuttered. His hand snaked between you, rubbing messily at your clit. He wasn’t precise at all, but the friction was enough. Your tits bounced as he pressed deeper into you, your body growing taut as you approached the edge. "I'm so close. Wanna come inside. You want that?"

You tried to shake you head, but every time he fucked deeper into you, your eyes rolled back and you couldn't protest. This all felt too good. The forbiddeness of fucking someone you hate, the possibility of someone walking in, the soft pap of his balls slapping against your ass as his legs quivered beneath him. 

“You’re gonna come,” Tenko said. “Shit, I can feel it. Go on. Want to feel you come. Fucking do it.”  

And you did. He swallowed up your cry with a harsh kiss as your body throbbed with pleasure. The orgasm crashed into you like a fucking train, and Tenko wasn’t far behind.  

“Shit... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Three deep thrusts and he was spilling himself into you with a whimper. His cum shot out in warm, thick ropes, coating your insides as his face fell into your shoulder. 

He rested on you, in you, like that for what felt like a while, his release seeping out between you in trails down your thighs. Eventually he pulled out, tucking his soft cock away. You pulled your dress back into place, underwear catching the arousal leaking between your legs. Tenko, to your surprise, turned back to you, wiping the insides of your thighs with the inside of his hoodie sleeve. It was oddly sweet, if a little gross.

But when he pulled away, awkwardness clung to the both of you like a rain-soaked blanket. You both stood in the darkness catching your breaths. You'd crossed a line tonight that could never be uncrossed. You both hated each other. You’d both fucked each other in a dark closet. What now- 

“Sorry guys!” The door swung open, and you froze up, turning to see the blonde from earlier in the doorway. “Should have let you out ten minutes ago, but the cops turned up, so party’s over.” 

Ten minutes? Had it really been that long? Shit.  

She left and you and Tenko were left alone. You awkwardly stepped out of the closet, blinking in the light. Your friends were gone, as were most people. It was probably best if you two just went your separate ways and pretended this never happened-

Tenko grabbed your hand and shoved the other in his pocket. “Let's go,” was all he said as he held your hand and led you from the house. "I'm taking you to my dorm tonight."

And though you could’ve argued, pushed him away, gone back to hating him and gone home, you let him. 

[robotlesbianjavert]

what would you say are horikoshi's biggest strengths as a writer and what are his greatest weaknesses?

ooh that's a really good question that i've had to think a lot about. it's difficult cuz while i've read his tenko oneshot and the original my hero oneshot, i haven't read his other two multi-chapter works (oumagadoki zoo and barrage) (though i have seen the raw scans of his other oneshot shinka rhapsody thanks to @codenamesazanka). boku no hero academia is obviously his work i'm most familiar with, and it's difficult to use mostly that as a metric for his skills overall.

on the other hand, bnha lasts for so much longer than his other works and is also so much more recent, so it's the main work that has to show off how growth or lack thereof as a writer, as well as his biggest challenges due to how punishing the manga industry can be and how it would have forced him into situations he may not have experienced with his past works. so in a way, bnha kind of has to be judged a biiit separately from the rest?

anyways with those caveats aside. his greatest strength is always and forever his art, which in manga is at least half of the writing. he has this special little touch with physicality and emotion that like. it's hard to describe how exactly it's different from other artists, who are also often great with physicality and emotion! but horikoshi's art often has that extra bit of weight to it that really sells it to me.

like i've said previously, i also think that he does have a knack for character writing that shines best when he's working with complicated, rough around the edges characters who aren't straightforward goody-two-shoes. shigaraki and bakugou i've already said are great examples of this. endeavour can get more difficult to talk about in this context due to the baggage around him, but i'd maintain that a lot of the series best writing does go to him, shouto, and the rest of the todoroki plotline (although it struggled a bit at the end there). twice, while ultimately a really nice guy, is still a very complicated criminal who gets theeeeee best development in the series. obviously there's toga, normal cute girl of all time.

a lot of that extends to horikoshi's affection for his minor/side characters as well. while i don't think he always nails it with integrating them into the story (fucking shouji. also vigilantes honestly did parts of this better), he does obviously put a lot of thought into them even when he doesn't get to use it. this is part of why i adore spinner so much, because he's that very typical minor side character who could easily be written out but instead gets a fleshed out and evocative role of his own.

i also think that horikoshi has a really strong instinct and potential for great horror/horrific material. again, this is where shigaraki proves himself horikoshi's best character - everything from his initial character design with the hands, the hints and insinuations about his backstory dropped over the first and second acts, all culminating in the beautifully gruesome shimura family massacre that just hits every single fuckin time. i honestly think it's one of the greatest payoffs in the series, basically bar none. (i know people try to give that title to the dabi reveal, but i keep getting taken out by how abrupt that particular instance is) it's the horror moments that make his art especially shine, he comes up with great scenarios, and honestly when he mentioned wanting to try his hand at a horror work after bnha i'm like, all in.

but that kind of segues into my biggest criticism of his writing - he holds back. he gets meek, he doesn't go all in. he had some interview where he admitted that the yakuza arc took a lot out of him because of how dark it got,

this extends to the entire series, especially in how the third arc has shaken out. deku and all might are really big victims of this, where there is absolutely a lot of complex development and criticism you can do with the way their characters are set up, but the story backs down from that to go "well maybe they're just. too heroic sometimes. self-sacrificing. that's an issue right." the 'dark deku' arc is a joke because while deku does extend himself beyond his limits, he never gets to the point of causing real harm to himself and those around him before class 1a swoops in.

i also have my conspiracy theories about hawks and how the fallout of his murdering twice was soooooo weak, where i think the popularity of hawks and his status as a hero scared horikoshi off of doing anything more critical with him, instead feeding that overwrought backstory as a distraction and giving the whole "government sponsored murderer who is wracked with guilt and bitter about the hypocrisy" to nagant. who again he didn't go hard enough with because then deku would have like, something outside of shigaraki to actually deal with. and would have to question the society that he's protecting. whatever.

he's also been so half-assed with the critique and deconstruction of hero society that he's set up, only to hastily and clumsily reconstruct it because superheroes are too cool to reeeaaaaaally say anything about, and also hero society has too many parallels with real life modern society, which might be awkward to critique in a youth magazine meant to satisfy as broad an audience as possible.

and then there's the heteromorph arc. goddamn the heteromorph arc. if you follow me you've probably read this but @stillness-in-green's conclusive write up of heteromorph discrimination as it's been laid out throughout the story and how that arc failed, which i think really signifies either the ways that horikoshi doesn't dig as deep into the concepts he brings up as he should, or doesn't realize how deep he needs to go with them.

i don't know if part of the way that horikoshi holds back or lands on the most boring resolutions for some of the ideas the story brings up is in part due to not wanting to rock the boat culturally, if he doesn't want to accidentally turn readers away after he's worked so hard to get to where he is now as a mangaka, or if it's the workload wearing him down, but it leaves the story half-formed.

i also think his other greatest weakness, which is a brutal one for shonen, is that he kind of fucking sucks at interesting fight scenes. like how much stuff ends with deku giving a big punch. it is my honest and greatest opinion that it should have been iida fighting muscular and uraraka fighting stain either alongside or in place of deku - their characters just had so much more to gain there. but i can also imagine all the fanboys who only care about power stats sneering and asking what iida and uraraka could have possibly done, which i think really speaks to a lack of creative thought not just in the fanbase, but in the writer. horikoshi can spin up all these cool and unique powers, but struggles to do anything really engaging with them. given that shonen fight scenes double as big character moments, it leaves a lot to be desired. big punches can only be inspiring so many times.

anyways. there's probably a lot more i can say. but that involves retreating more of the story than i am willing to do so right now. so alas.