#this actually ended up being shorter than I thought it would be

[vyyper]

beating the heatwaves with childe (fluff, wc 0.8k)

ajax overheats easily.

you've noticed, when he unbuttons some of his jacket or rolls up his sleeves, even when it's nice out. good weather to you and most others is too hot to him. you guess it has to do from growing up in snezhnaya; him being used to cruel winters makes inviting summers too intense in their warmth. he complains on and on, stopping at stalls to get cool drinks or frozen treats, buying matching fans to beat the heat, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you take shelter from the sun under a canopy of trees.

in bitter winter, whisked away to his homeland as he drapes his coat over your shoulders and holds you close, sat on the porch of his childhood home as his siblings run in the snow. when the spring breeze hits your face, and you hold on to him to surpass the brief chill. he manages it just fine, but somehow with you it feels more pleasant. in the fall when the nights begin to get shorter, you're as bright as the remaining day, as hot as the sun. and now, even in the blazing heat, even when he's too hot, he needs you to warm that place in his chest, to feel the soft rush of being cherished.

if there's water nearby, he usually ends up dragging you to the beach, pulling you knee deep into the sea despite your complaints about being wet as you walk around after. but you're never serious, and he knows this— knows the way you always end up rolling up your pants, knows the way your lips curl into a faint smile, petals blossoming.

ajax knows you like he knows the back of his hand; he remembers the exact way you kiss all the freckles on it, with so much care as if you're mapping the stars themselves. he knows the exact way you'll laugh when he splashes at you, that you'll splash him back, the way you'll smile as you walk home while the sun sets, hand in hand. he'd rather admire you than the night sky, would rather bask in your warmth than the sun's.

he'd keep trying to feel your warmth even when it's too much.

"it's so hot," he whines, you locked against him as his face presses into your neck. you feel his words against your pulse, changing from the smile he had there not long ago. you roll your eyes at his whining, at how well his alias fits his attitude sometimes. this is of his own doing, after all.

"because you're holding me like you're clinging on for dear life during a heatwave," you murmur, and he shakes his head. “if you wanna cool down, move back a little.”

"ajax..." you begin, with that exasperated tone he's gotten from you multiple times today, like he usually does on days like these. you're not actually mad at him, he knows; your anger is a different blaze to him, a different kind of ache than the sickeningly sweet one he feels now.

"i am holding on for dear life!" he whines. "after all, how am i s'posed to go on if i can't have you in my arms? don't be ridiculous, sweetheart."

ajax will always listen to you, but this is one of those times he just can't. you might be warm, but he can't forsake that.

"whaat, what? am i in trouble?" he grins, and you scowl even further. his heart thuds a bit faster, choppy ocean waves. you're so cute, he thinks, and the thought only makes him grin wider, which in turn makes you frown deeper. he loves you, all of you, even when you frown, even when you're grumpy with him, even when your tone is stern.

"i want to go to bed, ajax. so move to cool down, or stay and stop complaining. let me sleep," you say, yawn punctuating the sentence. the same thudding of his heart again, same ocean waves. the sound makes him grin wider.

"you're so cute," he says, softly against your pulse.

it's thudding the way his is.

you pause, and he knows that you feel flustered. you pretend not to when you huff, but he felt the hesitation. “that's nice. now be quiet. i don't think you're gonna find how annoyed i'll be tomorrow if i don't get enough sleep very cute.”

"but you're wrong," his turn to huff this time. "you're always cute, don't you get it?"

"do you live to embarrass me?" you groan, squirming.

"perhaps," he laughs, adjusting you both as he retreats from your neck, your eyes meeting his. they're the ocean you waded in earlier, the clear and inviting summer sky. you could spend forever in them. "but you don't mind though, do you? you love me, after all. like i love you." ah. those last three words fall from his lips like a reverent prayer, one he recites daily, with determination to prove his words. he's got you there, disarming you in a way no other person is able to. he says this whenever he can. because he makes sure you hear just how much he admires you, and because he knows you'll always respond the same way.

"yeah, yeah. i love you too," you mumble, and kiss the top of his head.

your heartbeats slow as you drift off together, twin flames flickering steadily, softly.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I like to think that if human color had curly hair, he would give two sh1ts about defining it properly and just go around with a frizzy hair on normal days

MAYBE he would give more attention to it for important events, maybe, but I like to think about that

I really like to think that, as opposed to a human/humanized Killer’s long thick often straighter hair, Color would have a shorter, curlier type of hair—such as 3C hair.

And i definitely agree that he’d have very frizzy hair on most days. Not only because he’s a Sans at heart, but because he’s also chronically ill!

His depression on top of his chronic fatigue and chronic pain from his past bones fractures—having easily breakable, “brittle” bones—just can make even the “simplest” tasks so draining and difficult.

Not to mention—he spent like two decades in the Void, he’s kinda way out of practice in the whole self care department, and has to relearn while he recovers and rehabilitates. Redeveloping those habits that he fell out of, and remembering why they even matter.

Some days even the thought of trying to wash his hair or style it can be so damn exhausting, let alone actually doing it. On top of that, if it weren’t for having to share his life and body and mind and soul with six kids, he wouldn’t give two shits about any of that on his own.

His mind just immediately breaking it all down into every single step he has to do and planning it all out just makes it seem even more of a daunting task.

(And if you go with the idea of Color being narcoleptic, there’s also the matter of daytime sleepiness.)

Which is another way I feel Color feels he’s letting down the souls.

Not only is he “failing” to even do simple things, he can’t even style their hair, but he often needs Perseverance’s influence to make it through—and when he needs Vera’s influence, more often than not, they end up pushing it too far and need even longer to physically recover.

Which means even less energy and motivation to style their hair, to make it up all nice and pretty—with all the ribbons and bows that Color often sees during the rare moments when Patience allows itself to linger on the past.

The most Color can mentally and physically bring himself to do for the longest time in terms of style is cutting off lengths of their hair at a time any time it gets too long.

And that is because they have to, because their hair being too long is too triggering, even when watching the hair be thrown away into the trash or fall into the sink often leaves Color with a deep, aching feeling—a sense of profound sadness, loss.

And the impending sense of dread, at feeling that creeping sense of having failed again—of having let them all down, feeling Patience’s unspoken disappointment. Dreading the moment when Integrity informs him of how upset Ness is, how she had been asking for reassurance that she was still pretty, right?

And I was actually thinking that, maybe this yet another area where Epic and possibly also Delta help take care of Color and the souls.

Hair and hair styling isn’t really Delta’s thing or expertise, but that doesn’t mean wouldn’t be willing to learn how to properly wash and tend to 3c hair and wash Color’s hair for him when he’s too drained and exhausted to do it themself.

And Epic, a bit of a fashionista, he’d certainly be full of creative hairstyle ideas and accessories—and he both cares for his friend, and is good with kids.

Even if Color isn’t feeling up for styling or accessorizing their hair himself, but some of the kids do and Color wants to make them happy and comprise with them, he can always go to Epic for some ideas and help.

[cloudinterlude]

Do you have any headcanons about Steve, Tony, or Steve and Tony between AoU and CACW? Like, any ideas about Steve's relationships with Rhodey, Wanda, or Vision? Or how closely do you think Tony monitored/kept in touch with the Avengers 2.0 team while he was supposedly retired? Do you think Steve and Tony had many interactions during that time period?

This is actually such a good ask because I hardly ever...ponder about my headcanons? I usually don't fill in gaps with specific happenings because I'm much better at analysis of canon content, so this answer is going to be at least 50% brainstorming! Long post incoming! Also, sorry if this response takes forever to be posted...whoopsies.

All my SteveTony interpretations from that period of time are all depressing lol. I think it's the time they are simultaneously thinking about each other the most and growing apart the most (of course this is only rivaled by post-CACW SteveTony). It also sucks because I like to imagine that after CATWS, the Avengers are all living together for the first time up until AOU. But between AOU and CACW, Tony is wallowing and drowning in his guilt, fear and shame (which I believe is like, 90% the reason he takes the stances he does ) and Steve is literally a mess and a half. The thing is though, Steve is better at compartmentalizing and managing his horror show of a life (he literally has to be or he'd be dead, probably), so he is most likely coping better than Tony at this point. Just barely though. We'll touch on that later in the post if I remember.

Tony is in the trenches. Became depressed after he helped create a murder bot that decimated an already war torn country, piles of self-hatred stabbing his gut at every chance, no girlfriend, no team, no happiness, no JARVIS, no stability, no confidence, no dignity, no---You see the point. All he's thinking about is how the hell to fix all his mistakes that have come to light at once. I'm in the boat of thinking that CW literally could not have been prevented because of how deep in shit Tony is. I do however think CW could have ended up better if Tony and Steve were on better terms....or it would have been so, so much worse. I'd love to see someone write this (I might).

Anyways! I think Tony would have been doing a lot of pulling away from Steve during this time. I think Steve most likely reached out to Tony the few times he could, but he was met with an almost impenatrible wall that he didn't know how to scale. Steve is insanely busy at this time and in copious amounts of emotional turmoil - he only has spend - and seeing as Tony seems safe, I could see Steve redirecting his attention elsewhere after being rejected a few times too many and giving Tony space instead. I think it's pretty apparent that these two didn't interact much (or at least didn't have many deep conversations). I'm basing this off of how they reacted to each other in CW and how Steve didn't know Pepper and Tony broke up.

[This section is gonna be a especially clunky and worded oddly but WALK WITH ME PLEASE] I will say I like the idea of them having literally one (1) heart to heart within this time period. I think it would have had to be early on in order for it to not have a mentionable moment in CW. The conversation ultimately would have led to Tony and Steve understanding each other the way they do in CW. It would be about their "nightmares" in AOU. One thing that I find interesting actually, is how long it takes for Tony to...see Steve as a person? It's very apparent in Avengers 1, but in AOU as well. And it's actually my favorite thing when we see Tony try to push and poke at Steve to get a "human" or vulnerable reaction out of him. For example, the log scene. Where Tony eventually gets frustrated and implies that Steve didn't seem to torn up about whatever nightmare he got. This is 1) Tony fishing for vulnerability from Steve's coping mechanism of stoicism and 2) Tony is taking his anger out on Steve and it's acceptable enough to him because in his eyes, Steve is a stone fortress so it's not like it'll rankle him anyways. You see how this becomes a never-ending circle, yeah? Lol. Especially because Steve doesn't project his emotions in the same explosive way Tony does. To Tony, he seems self-assured, calm, almost too collected and this bothers Tony for reasons I can't elaborate on right now or I'll type too much. In short, it's a part of the Howard-Steve-Tony conflict. To Steve, he doesn't understand why Tony is being antagonistic towards him so he reacts the way he does instead of giving Tony what he wants.

Anyways, back to the conversation! I think they actually must reach a breakthrough with each other. Telling each other about their respective "visions" in AOU...Steve realizing how much responsibility and guilt Tony assigns himself, Tony realizing that Steve still feels displaced and isn't unaffected by the things that's happened to him....I even predict they talked about Howard a tiny bit. To me, in CW, I see a sense of understanding between them that simply isn't there in the previous movies. Yes, they are literally more divided than they have ever been, but I truly, and wholeheartedly believe that CW could have been so, so much worse. I think Steve could have been more pissed at Tony and Tony could have been more cold about everything if they didn't see each other as they are. They don't agree with each other, but they absolutely trust the intentions of the other. Tony straight up says (to Peter) that he knows that Steve is doing what he thinks is right. Steve almost folds and puts his trust in Tony during the signing scene and he wouldn't do that if he didn't have faith in Tony's intentions.

Now, all this said, I do not buy for a second that Tony was able to stay away and mind his "I'm retired" ass business during this time lol. He wasn't active, no, but did he show up to HQ a little more than he should have? Yes. Did he find ways to watch trainings and sparring in person (and on video)? Yes. Did he continue to build stuff for the Avengers (whether or not he actually gave his inventions for them to use)? Yes. Did he press Natasha for info surrounding the Avengers, HQ, Steve, ect? ABSOLUTELY. I think Tony and Natasha's closeness in CW is a direct product of Tony inquiring about everything he missed out on during his break and Natasha offering up all the info he wanted and more. She probably tried to convince him to come back once or twice.

Steve and Rhodes: Now, take my opinion on this dynamic with a grain of salt because Rhodey is a character that annoys me. Very surface level annoyance, but it's still there nonetheless. This isn't to say I think he's a bad character - he's actually one of the few MCU characters that is consistent and makes sense. Anyways, I never saw these two as close. I don't think they have the potential to become super close, nor do I think they are particularly interested in being close to each other. But there is a pretty solid level of mutual respect. I don't think Rhodey really...likes Steve for the same reasons Tony didn't like Steve. Mostly based off of misconceptions and reading Steve's disposition as egoism and coldness (I suspect that it's a little projection comes from seeing the Howard-Steve-Tony conflict from Tony growing up too but moving on). I think Steve is pretty neutral when it comes to Rhodey. He can sense the dislike, but it doesn't bother him because they aren't....close.

Steve and Vision: This is actually a really cute and heartwarming pair that I never thought about until now. I think Vision is fond of Steve. He became appreciative of him mostly through his own observations and through whatever Wanda tells him. I think there might have been times where Vision has seen Steve comfort Wanda and that could have pushed Vision to talk to Steve about his own concerns...maybe having to do with his personhood? I don't think they were close to each other, but I think that Vision definitely marked Steve in the "good" category of people he knows. On Steve's side, he's mostly bemused when it comes to Vision. It's confusion, apprehension and affection all at once. But maybe Vision also reminds him a teeny tiny bit of himself coming into the new century. Fumbling, unsure of new social cues, observing everything and attempting to mimic common behaviors. I'm sure Vision's behavior is endlessly endearing to Steve, but he doesn't know how to handle it all the time. They figure it out as they go. Very cute.

Steve and Wanda: I love them so much. Top 5 MCU dynamic that is never explored but is told through scraps and crumbs of dialogue that hint at the amount of time they've shared together and the amount of trust and care they've build between each other. Here's a take I haven't fully fleshed out yet: I think Steve's empathy and compassion for Wanda is literally endless. I think Wanda's faith and admiration for Steve is endless as well. I think these two are one of the most solid, locked in duos in the MCU. My evidence? Vibes. Just kidding, almost. But I think it's 1) their backgrounds, and 2) the progression of their relationship and 3) the types of characters they are. You know one of the main reasons Wanda trusts Steve? It's not only because he can see who she really is, it's not only because he empathizes with her pain - it's because he isn't afraid of her and her power. Instead, he's worried for her and how her lack of control over her abilities hurt her. He didn't take her in just so he could monitor and stop her from hurting other people - he took her in and continued to stick up for her because he genuinely, wholeheartedly cares. Wanda isn't one to be fooled by fake compassion. And she sees pure authenticity in Steve. Steve looks at Wanda and sees someone that was failed in the worse ways possible. Much like his own life, it's been hit after hit for Wanda - external circumstances that she couldn't control, so once she finally had a chance to take the reigns of her own destiny, she jumped at the opportunity. That line Steve says in AOU, "What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them in order to protect their country?" "We're not at war, Captain." "They are." From the jump, he went into that fight understanding Wanda's motivations and immediately related them to his own experience and desperation. This empathy for someone who is supposed to be their enemy - someone who is actively coming for their necks. The same empathy that so many people are throwing out the window when it comes to Wanda and her story. I'm one of the whackjobs that fully believes that Wanda would have allowed Steve to help her through WandaVision and MoM AND Steve would have still forgiven and trusted her afterwards. If Wanda came to Steve devastated that they showed her Vision's corpse, he would have stood beside her without question and shut it down (we already know that Steve sees Vision as an actual person considering Infinity War). Steve is has been her advocate and support since she's joined them. And it's often shown in subtle ways. He also doesn't allow people to pick on Wanda - not on his watch. Wanda does the same (as much as she can) for Steve and follows his lead.

Okay, I realized that that turned more into an analysis without many headcanons lol....Okay, some Wanda and Steve headcanons. Steve draws Wanda a lot - always in bright and positive settings to express how he sees her. I think he also makes an effort to be as invested in her powers as she is - to assure that she knows she doesn't have to manage it herself. I could imagine it actual blows Wanda's mind when Steve drags her to practice her magic on him. On one hand she's terrified because she doesn't want to hurt him, on the other hand, she's filled with warmth because he believes in her and is backing it up by putting his own wellbeing on the line. One more...sometimes Wanda pranks Steve with her powers. It's both an example of her progress and her just being silly (but it really shows how comfortable and safe she feels with him). So cute.

Whew! I think I covered everything. I looooooooove detailed and specific questions/prompts like this. Especially when it involves character I'm directly invested in! Thank you so much <3 If you want more elaboration on anything or if I missed something, feel free to hit me up again! <3

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Multiamory Month, Day Ten: Meet the family (Modern AU)

We've hit the double digit days now in @polyamships's Multiamory March -- and, in a break from tradition with these "prompt fic" challenges/collections, I've stuck with the same universe for two days in a row! Mostly because when I saw today's prompt, "Meet the family," I knew I wanted to do Victor and Alice meeting Smiler's parents, Matthew and Carol Alton --

But, uh, as it turns out, I only have two universes where Matt and Carol actually show up as Smiler's parents -- the Modern AU and Valicer In The Dark. And I'd actually already written VITD Victor and Alice meeting Matt and Carol as part of the last chapter of "A Murder Shared Is A Murder Thirded" (said last chapter is not actually UP at the time of posting, but still). So Modern AU it was! XD Anyway, here's the trio arriving at the door of Matt and Carol's place, with Victor and Alice about to make an interesting discovery about the pair...

(Oh, and for reference: Carol mentioning Victor getting a special dip with no artichokes is a reference to the original "Meet The Family" set of Not-Incorrect Quotes, where Victor revealed he's allergic to artichokes in response to Smiler texting their mum to make her artichoke dip. The allergy itself is a headcanon based off an old Corpse Bride storyboard. *thumbs up*)

--

“Smiler!”

“Hey, Mum! Dad!”

Victor stared as Smiler practically threw themselves at their parents, wrapping them in a hug that was eagerly reciprocated. Wow...you’d never get away with that in my family, he thought, biting his lip. Mother would consider it so lower-class to actually show affection to her only child, and Father would be more interested in making some terrible joke that wouldn’t land at all… His eyes went to Alice, watching the scene with a sad, nostalgic smile. Then again, at least I have parents, so maybe I shouldn’t complain.

Smiler pulled away from their folks after a moment, grinning to beat the band – though, admittedly, they did that on a regular basis anyway. “Great to see you guys again! I’m really looking forward to this!”

“It’s great to see you!” Smiler’s father – Matt, if Victor remembered correctly – agreed, smile as bright as his child’s. He promptly turned it on Victor and Alice, walking toward them with arm outstretched. “And it’s a delight to meet you two at last! Matthew Alton!”

“Victor Van Dort,” Victor said, taking his hand (and privately hoping his handshake was firm enough). “And this is Alice Liddell.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alice nodded, offering her own hand in turn.

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours,” Matt assured her, pumping both their arms. “Smiler’s told us so many wonderful things about you two!”

“Anyone who makes them so happy is more than welcome in our home!” Smiler’s mother – Carol, yes – added, coming to join her husband.

“I’m glad to hear–”

Victor blinked as he realized he had to look down rather farther than he’d though to meet Carol’s eyes. “That,” he finished lamely. What – she barely comes up to Matt’s shoulder! I haven’t met anyone so short since Lord Everglot! And that was back in Burtonsville, where I’m used to people being odd sizes! Does she think I’m looming? I hope not… He hunched down slightly, trying to reduce his six-foot-three by a few inches. “T-they’ve told us a lot of n-nice things about you too.”

“Yes – I’m rather looking forward to experiencing you in the flesh, not just secondhand,” Alice said, cool as a cucumber – though Victor spotted her eyes flicking between the pair.

“Oh, us too,” Carol said, beaming. She turned and waved them through the door. “Come on in – we’ve got plenty of nibbles! And don’t worry, Victor, I made a special dip for you. No artichokes, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Victor watched as she went inside with Smiler and Matt, then nudged Alice. “She’s in heels!”

“I noticed! Tall ones too!” Alice shook her head, then smiled at him. “Well – makes our height difference look normal, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose – at least they seem nice.” Victor took a steadying breath, then started in. “Let’s just hope this goes better than when I first met Victoria’s parents.”

[nekomuse]

Danny didn't think that falling through a natural portal would result in him stumbling upon a cult. Or that said cult currently was busy with "punishing" a small five year old child.

Really there was only one thing he could do and accidental kidnapping usually happened to him as the kidnapee not the kidnapper.

Well, there was a first time for everything. Taking the small child with him into the infinite realms may have been a panic reaction, and he may have accidentally summoned Frostbite to check over the boy.

Thankfully the kid, Damian he said his name was, was liminal and fine with healing in Danny's castle before Danny would bring him to his father. According to Damian his father didn't like the cult ("It's the league of assasins... not a cult.")

To be honest he was very much out of depth and so very confused when he had to find his way to the crime ridden city of Gotham and then somehow get the attention of the bat vigilante. Batman was tall and very much as scary as a ghost.

Damian looked out from under King Phantom's cloak of stars and galaxies and took in the person who was said to be his father.

"You are shorter than I thought..."

"Hn." Damian turned to look up at the being that had helped him heal and taken care of him for the last two months.

"I have decided. King Phantom shall be my father from now on!" Damian proceeded to hide back behind the being and into the spacious cloak.

"Uhm... I don't think that's how that works bud." King Phantom said, he was interrupted by laughter. Glancing past the being Damian saw Batman and Robin, as well as Nightwing, the last two were laughing while Batman looked slumped.

"I have decided King Phantom is my father, so he is!"

"This is gold!" Nightwing was now struggling to stand up straight.

"I... uh... I'm not sure what to do in this situation?" King Phantom said, Damian leaned forward a bit to glare at him.

"Take me back to your castle father!" Nightwing seemed to struggle with breathing, he was now wheezing.

Danny would like to say for the record that he wasn't prepared for these things! Somehow that strange situation ended with him in the batmobile on the way to the batcave so that Damian would hopefully want to stay with his actual father.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[mournthebird]

Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Mentions of past SA | Flashbacks of SA | Flashbacks of torture | Vulgar language | Hints to ED due to trauma

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Ты будешь голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сделаю лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[timotheechalametsrealgf]

BNHA BOYS REACTING TO YOU PUTING THEM ON YOUR HEAR ME OUT CAKE

feat: K. Bakugou , S. Todoroki , I. Midoriya, N.Monoma , S. Hitoshi

author note!: I haven’t seen this idea being done before so here is my take!

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

Katsuki spends at least 30 minutes on tiktok before going to sleep, so he definitely knows what a “hear me out cake” is.

Initially he laughed when he saw you holding a mini version of a Monoma on a stick “Of course only they would find him attractive” he rolled his eyes as you were explaining your thoughts to a disgusted Mina.

After the pinknets turn, you placed another figure down on the cake. This time it was one of UA top students, Katsuki Bakugou!

At that moment he felt betrayed, bamboozled and might i say offended.

“Why would i be here, i am conveniently attractive!” he shouted at himself. Did you really just assume that him being good looking is a quirky and unique idea!

He immediately called you. The minute you answered, he didn’t even give you time to question the sudden phone call, as he demanded you to take down the video. He then proceeded to yell at you for the next 20 minutes about how “selfish you were for thinking that only you found him attractive, or how he was not a “hear me out”. He then took another 10 minutes explaining how his good looks were a FACT and trying to prove his point by telling you than he benches twice your weight and so on.

At the end of the night you were forced if not HARASSED to take down the tiktok.

SHOTO TODOROKI

Shoto has no idea what a “hear me out cake” is. I doubt he would even have TikTok, so naturally he only found out about the video through Izuku’s fyp. So while the poor boy was scrolling through the app and watching the TikTok you made with Momo, Shoto was watching as well through his friends shoulder. At first he was much disinterested as he couldn’t quite understand why miniatures of his classmates were being placed on a cake by you and Momo.

His interest only piqued when you presented a mini version of him. “what does that mean?” he asked Midoriya who jumped not expected from his friend to have been watching this whole time. The shorter boy tried to explain the concept of “hear me out” but it was to no vail.

Todoroki just assumed that you thought he was ugly. So for the rest of the day he tried to move on, ignoring the sad feeling that shadowed him. His whole life people would praise him for his looks, but the one person whose opinion actually mattered to him…thought he was ugly?

Fortunately Deku was quick with explaining to you the whole situation and you didn’t waist time to confront Shoto.

His sad feelings had automatically vanished when you enlightened him that he wasn’t actually considered a “hear me out” since most people were akin to his looks, you just wanted to point out a different perspective of why you thought of him as attractive, not just because of his facial features.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Deku was mindlessly scrolling through TikTok when he fell upon a video of you and Ochaco doing the viral “hear me out cake”trend.

The boy was watching the video with much interest, him adding on to your explanations as well. For example when you added Tigress from Kung Fu Panda and you were quick to justify that she had an attractive aura,he also pointed out on her assertiveness.

Non the less, it was safe to say that when his name fell out of your mouth as a picture of him appeared on your hand he was a blushing mess.

Sure he was aware that his shy personality could be an ick for some people, but hearing from you that he was really underrated and that you found him very cute made him malfunction.

For the next few days he couldn’t look at you without blushing. He couldn’t even speak to you without messing up a word or two, but he was more than glad to find out that you were inspired by him. That’s why be wanted to be a hero! To motivate others to try their best, even when the odds are against them.

NEITO MONOMA

Ok let’s be real, Monoma definitely enjoys brain rot and he spends a lot of time on the app. He is always up to date with trends and new slang, so he is definitely aware of what a “hear me out cake is”.

Now, Neito also believes that out of all UA students, he definitely is one of the most attractive, if not THE most!

So rest assured that when he saw you pulling out that miniature version of him and heard you say “im suprised i haven’t seen anyone else point out his looks, he is sooo pretty” he quickly fled to the comments.

He was spamming insults like crazy. Mostly attacking your spacial awareness. “labeling me as a hear me out is crazy”, “get a reality check”, “how could you do this” What offended him more was the audacity to put him on the same cake as Bakugou Katsuki.

To him, it was like you had broken an unspoken rule. So he did what any sane person would do. He made his own version of a “hear me out cake” where he pulled out a bunch of pictures of you,only you.

Kendo who thought they were filming a normal tiktok covered her mouth in astonishment not even bothering to present her picks. “My pick is Y/n because im probably the only person who likes them” he began “another unique pick of mine is Y/n, who only I find attractive” “ and here we have someone new, someone fresh: y/n ladys and gentlemen!, who unfortunately only i recognize the beauty of”

HITOSHI SHINSO

Shinso isn’t really chronically online but i’m sure he has passed by the “hear me out cake” trend. So when he saw you pulling him out of your pocket he quickly understood what you were referring to.

Surprisingly, he was glad to see a person thinking of his quirk as interesting and full of potential. He smiled softly when you said “i could only dream of having a quirk as strong as his”.

It also didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you talked about his looks. How you referred to his eye bags as attractive and his purple hair as astonishingly beautiful. He even allowed himself to chuckle when you noted on his liking of cats, even calling him a “cat dad”.

After the video ended with a few more additions in the cake he found himself searching for your socials and pressing that “message” button.

With a bit of hesitation he texted you something along the lines of “So you like my hair huh?” but it only took him a minute to regret his decision, cringing with himself. He tried to delete the message but you were already typing back.

[darlingbabyboo]

--"what do you mean your dad doesn't like me?"

♡ Synopsis: you love your boyfriend more than anything in the world... it's too bad that your parents don't feel the same.

♡ Content: Kageyama, Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, Kenma, Suna, Atsumu. Black female reader! I don't believe that there's mentions of height but I'm writing this from my view and I'm pretty short so be wary...

♡ Notes: I actually don't remember writing this, I think I got possessed for a minute but that's okay <3. Hope y'all enjoy, it's been a minute since I wrote for Haikyuu

Kageyama

Case of a bad first meeting

Kageyama is an awkward boy okay, and there's nothing wrong with it but it kinda messes things up when your parents are introduced to him

You've been talking about your sweet caring boyfriend who loves to take care of you and supports you when things go wrong and your parents have high expectations because of how much you've been gassing him up

They follow you to one of his games, and they're very impressed by his volleyball abilities

When the game ends with Karasuno's win, they accept the interaction with Kageyama to go like this❤️🥰😊💖😘

Instead Kageyama just looks at you like 😐

And they're not the biggest fan of that

"Tobio, baby, you did so good!" You exclaim as he comes towards all of you. Your parents watch expectantly, waiting for the sour expression on his face to disappear at the sight of you. A smile, grin, laugh, something.

Instead, he nods at the compliment, and starts staring at the nonexistent spot on the floor.

They frown, that was not what they expected.

Your mother leans into your father, "I thought he would be..."

"Sweeter," Your father finishes for her. They watch the encounter with dismay. You continue to send a barrage of compliments to your boyfriend only for the other's stare at the floor to turn into a full blown glare.

"I need to go," He suddenly interrupts your ranting. They watch, hoping that he'll redeem himself with a short embrace, but he only nods at you, and offers your parents a small wave.

"Isn't he great!" You gush as you watch the setter walk back to his team.

Your parents frown, not at all.

Bonus

"Bakeyama! Their parents definitely hate you!"

"Shut up Boke!" He yells back at Hinata, rubbing his cheeks like he can erase the red from his face. He could barely look you in the eyes with you wearing his jersey. It was the first time you had ever done something like that and he reacted like an idiot!

"You're so stupid!" The shorter male giggles, "I have no idea how you got with someone!"

He snarls, "shut up shut up shut up!"

Tsukishima

Tsukishima's a great suckup, you'd think he'd be great around your parents

...no, just no

Your mama's smart and she knows a fakeass when she sees one

Tsukishima might act all nice but your mama says, 'he got the devil in his eyes' she's right lol

He can't do nothing without absolute disgust being targeted at him 😭😭😭

He could be offering to help with dinner

And she offers back a side eyes him with a scowl on her face

Tsukishima is doing his best pray for my mans 🙏🏾

"Oh, ma'am, I can help with-"

"Don't bother," your mother cuts off, holding her hand up to stop the blonde from continuing his offer, "I don't need your help." She spits out. As she leaves to the kitchen she starts muttering something about him under her breath. He can't pick it up, but he knows it's not anything good.

He gives you a desperate look, it's been like this all night. He did his best to put on a nice smile and dress the best- he begged (though he would never tell you that)- his mom to bake some pie so that he could bring it to dinner just so everything would be perfect when meeting your mom, but it was all for nothing. It was an understatement to say that she didn't like him.

She fucking hated him.

You give him a look as if to say, what can you do? You did your best to talk Kei up, but as soon as she saw him, she decided she didn't like him. You put your hand over his, resting on the table.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, feeling horrible that he had worked so hard for nothing.

"It's just- I wished she liked." He interlocks your hand and squeezes it anxiously, "I don't know what else I should do."

You open your mouth to try to comfort him, but-

"Baby get in the kitchen, your mama needs help!" In a voice that leaves no room for argument.

You wince, you know that you can't say no when your mom starts talking in that tone. You give Kei an apologetic look and his shoulders slump, burying his head in his hands.

Iwaizumi

Worst possible meeting of your boyfriend

Iwaizumi has a habit of hitting you (playfully)

Your dad just happen to catch you two when it looks like he's hitting you

He is traumatized and horrified

Shitting crying throwing up fr when your father starts to threaten to end his life if he come near you again

"Where's my favourite member of Aoba Johsai~" You sing, playfully poking his shoulder.

He puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him "right here babe."

You wriggle out of his grip, "you don't look like Oikawa to me."

He rolls his eyes, "fuck you." He knocks your head, not hard enough to bruise but enough to look threatening, he laughs at your flinch.

"Coward," He mocks.

You stick out your bottom lip and just as you open your mouth to respond-

"Fuck you say about my daughter."

He gasps when someone's hand grips his upper arm. The man's eyes are filled with pure rage, and his grip tightens so hard it's almost like he's trying to tear it out of his arm. He watches the man, and in a horrifying realization he sees that the man has your eyes.

It's your dad.

Shit.

"This is not what it looks like," He sputters out, in an attempt not to look like an abusive dickhead, "we just-"

"Shut up." The man grits out, and impossibly the grip on his arm tightens even more. "if I ever see you around my little girl again, I will fucking kill you."

"Dad-" You attempt to protest.

"No." Your dad interrupts your plea, "I told you to be careful around these trashy high schoolers- about getting yourself involved in these stupid boys." He shakes Iwaizumi like a ragdoll to further emphasize his point. "I never want to see you around him again."

You eyes go wide, "Dad, wha- that's not fair!"

Your father doesn't listen to your protests, harshly pushing away Iwaizumi and grabbing your hand. You fight against it for a bit but give up when your father won't let up. You turn around to face Iwaizumi, mouthing I'm sorry.

He just nods, and as soon as you're gone he places his fist against his forehead, wondering how he could have fucked things up so much.

Kenma

I love Kenma but he's not a conventional bf

Your dad wants you to be happy but at the same time he's looking at him and thinking, really, you couldn't do any better

He can barely hide the disgust when he's playing on his video games, slouched over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and heavy bags under his eyes

You're telling him that he's a highly valued member of his team and then he sees him get winded going up a the stairs

Okay sweetie 🤗🤗🤗

Kenma finds the hate as more of an annoyance than anything tbh

He doesn't sweat too much about it, the only reason he tries is because he doesn't like you being upset about the uneasiness between your parents and him

"Hey," He says, all he can get out before he practically collapses against you. It was a long game and all he wants to do is melt into your arms. "'s nice tha' you came." He keeps panting, just on the brink of passing out.

"Hey Kenny." You say, running a hand through his hair and pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead, "you were really good in this game."

He doesn't have the energy to thank you, all the air practically gone from his lungs, instead he nods and buries his face into your neck.

After a minute of you carding your hand through his hair you say the dreaded words, "my dad's expecting you to greet him..."

He groans, "will he accept a weak wave."

"Not at all."

He groans louder as he painfully removes himself from your gasp. he looks up to your dad, who is predictably glaring at him. He gives a weak smile and wills himself to go towards the man.

What he'll do for you.

Suna

YOUR DAD DOES NOT TRUST HIM

He does not like him around you at all and thinks his precious baby deserves to be around someone better

Your dad finds him a little too nonchalant for his taste and thinks that his baby needs to be around someone that spoils you

Suna is surprised when he's hit with the hatred bcs he didn't think he did anything???

"Rinnie, you did so good!" You exclaim, wrapping your arms around his neck, he in return wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Thanks," He responds, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He pulls away when he hears someone clear his throat. He looks at the other man, he looks like the spitting image of you. A smile creeps up his lips at how similar you look to your father.

He nods to him as a greeting.

Your father does not accept that.

"You too good for a handshake?" The man questions.

He opens his mouth, instinctively ready for a snappy remark, but he immediately closes it when your father glares. This is, apparently, no laughing matter, and he really doesn't feel like making things worse. Instead, he pulls his hand forward.

"Hey, I'm Suna Rintaro." He introduces.

"Hey." Your father mockingly echos (he exchanges a quick glance with you, did he do something? Why does the man already hate him), but he still accepts the handshake.

He winces when the older man squeezes, strong grip feeling like he's trying to tear his arm off. He drops his hand and puts it in his pocket, trying to shrug off the burning feel.

"Strong grip there Sir." He remarks, trying to make it come across light-hearted.

The other man doesn't show any positive reaction. "It's the grip of a man."

"Or a serial killer." He mutters. Apparently, not quiet enough, as you wince and the vein on your father's forehead bulges out in anger.

"We'll talk later, okay Rinnie." You say, offering an escape. He smiles, grateful for the opening. He'll take his escape while he still can.

"I'll see you later angel." He presses another kiss to your forehead and leaves, pretending he doesn't notice the glare of your father. That's something for another day.

Atsumu

Poor guy had no idea that your dad did not f with him 😭😭😭

He loves both your parents!

They gave birth to you and you're the greatest person ever!!! Of course he loves them

But apparently the hate is on sight with them

He starts to walk over and he starts scowling 😒

When you asked your dad why they didn't like Atsumu, he just clucked and said

'That blonde boy ain't right,' your dad muttered and offered NO OTHER INFO

"Hey princess, you like the match?" He smacks a kiss to your cheek and wraps a hand around your waist, "scored that last point for you."

"Just the last point?" You tease. "Were the other points for your other girlfriends."

"No other girls but you princess." He says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Your interrupted by your dad clearing his throat, very loudly.

You two break apart, and you offer your parents a sheepish glance.

"Are you going to introduce us honey?" Your mom says, with an odd look in her eyes that Atsumu can't decipher.

"Mom, dad, this is Miya Atsumu, the boy I've been talking about so much."

"It's a pleasure to meet you two." Atsumu says, giving his widest, kindest, toothiest grin.

Your mother gives him a weak smile back, while your father just watches him, like a predator looks at its prey before snapping its neck.

He waits for the two to respond, but they just keep staring.

After a few moments of nothing he coughs, "would you two like to join us for lunch- I'd like to celebrate my win with my favourite girl and her parents."

You giggle at that, but your parents show no reaction.

"It's getting awfully late for lunch." Your father says gruffly.

He laughs, "it's only 7."

Your father doesn't share his humour. He turns to you, "I don't want you out so late with some guy."

He bites his tongue at the last part, some guy? He's thinks you two have been together enough to be more than some guy.

"It's not even that late." You whine.

"The sun's about to set."

"It's only 7!" You reiterate, you turn to your mom, "Mama please!"

Your mom shakes her head, "I think you should listen to your father. It's getting late, and you should be careful who you share your company with." She gives a pointed glance to Atsumu.

It's like someone reached into his chest and ripped out his heart. He forces himself to smile, "ya'know, we don't need to celebrate today, I'll let ya get back home princess."

"But 'tsumu-" You attempt to protest.

"It's fine." He interrupts. He plays nonchalant and shrugs, "there are other days."

He grasps your hands and presses kisses to your knuckles. "I'll text you later, okay?"

You pout, but concede, "m'kay."

He offers a goodbye to your parents but they've turned their attention away, looking anywhere else but but at him. He swallows, he'll deal with that later.

[bunni-v1]

Pure Vanilla Sfw & Nsfw Headcanons

🍓These are shorter than SMC's, purely (hah) since there's less to say about nsfw headcanons. He's a really simple guy, alright? Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. I'll be working on the poly hc's soon and also some requests -- cookie run related and not. Love you all MWAH!

MDNI (Seriously I'll find you)

Tw: None?; Grammar errors

Info: Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader; Fluff; Angst (only a little); nsfw

-Pure Vanilla Cookie is a gentle soul. His hands are soft and kind to any and all he meets, and he does the most he can to keep the peace amongst those he holds dear. His calm demeanor makes him seem like the perfect candidate for a partner, but I’m gonna be 100% this guy has issues. 

-He has very real trauma from the Dark Flower War that keeps him up at night, despite how much he tries to hide it. Betrayal from one of his dearest friends also haunts him, despite things being… different now… it sticks with him as it would any normal cookie. He’s insecure to a level that a god-king should not be capable of, but he certainly feels that insecurity deeply. Oh, and he never got over White Lily Cookie.

-It’s also very likely that he wouldn’t deem himself ‘worthy’ of being loved in such a manner, especially after the situation with White Lily. He can’t save his friends, he can’t save his subjects, what would he do if he couldn’t save a lover? It would be better not to have his heart broken like that.

-Not to mention his experience with relationships is… sparse. Other than White Lily Cookie, he hasn’t really had much romantic experience – nor did he want to. His focus is often set elsewhere, and his humility can frequently get in the way of forming genuine connections with others.

-He’s so incredibly old now, he feels like his time has passed. Besides, any cookie who might proposition him is far younger, and while he respects them he wouldn’t want to get in the way of their opportunity to connect with someone who could be a better match.

-Not to mention he gets propositioned a lot. Many cookies like the idea of him, but few can actually handle how patient and gentle he really is. It doesn’t upset him, nor does he hold it against them, it’s just how the world seems to work out.

-Excuses, excuses, excuses with him. They’re never-ending.

-Then, of course, there was you. The sweet cookie you were, you had the patience of a saint. Any excuse he came up with, you seemed to find a way to prove him wrong. (You make him second guess if he really is patient, with how much you wait on him and work to prove him wrong).

-He isn’t testing you by any means when he pushes you away. Pure Vanilla Cookie really does believe you could do better than him. (Him! How could you do better than him!?) He’s trying to save you from himself, but the more steadfast you are the more he starts to fold and bend to what you like.

-It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy having you around, he quite prefers it when you’re by his side. You’re also so very pretty, he gazes at you when you aren’t looking more than he’d like to admit (his staff gives him quite the stink eye for this one). Your patience with him is admirable, and you make such an effort to get close to him. You’ve more than proven that you are serious about your confessions to him.

-After (literally) a thousand years, he decides just to try again. Leading you on was cruel, especially when he reciprocated your feelings, so he makes the effort of a confession – and great cookies above it was sweet.

-He brings you to his pagoda, a place you frequently spend sitting quietly next to him. He knows you’re fond of it, especially of the white lilies that bloom around it. You sit next to him as usual, staring off into the distance in thought while he watches you through his lashes. Your beauty is something he loves to behold, and he wonders if the kingdom would be alright if he did so for the next thousand years. Just like this, quiet and alone in the place you’ve both made your own.

-You laugh when you catch him staring, and his dough burns hot – both from the melodious sound and from being caught so shameless. He doesn’t let it linger too long, taking your hand in his with care he hadn’t shown you much yet. It’s a bit odd for him to suddenly be physical with you, but when he looks at you, and I mean looks at you, you understand what's happening.

-He tells you how he’s grown into his fondness for you, that he appreciates your patience with him and giving him a chance to think things over in himself before pushing him into a choice. He expresses what he loves about being around you and how he feels like himself when he is near your side. How he aches when you aren’t around, and that he worries for you all the time even though you’re more than safe in the walls of the kingdom.

-He goes on for so long that you have to cut him off and tell him you get the point, which just makes him laugh because that is something he likes about you. You never let him get too far ahead of himself or too deep in his head before you pull him back up for air.

-And, while you might’ve fallen first for his gentleness and his kindness, he falls leagues harder than you ever could. After his confession, he goes out of his way to have you around, and it’s not until nearly all of your things are within his room that he realizes maybe he got a little too deep a little too fast.

-Then you smile that smile and all his thoughts are washed away in favor of following after you on whatever adventure you had planned in the kingdom for the day.

-As a partner, believe it or not, Pure Vanilla Cookie is not physically affectionate so much as he is verbally affectionate. He prefers showing his love through words and acts of service. He will run himself ragged to make sure you won’t worry about anything. You’ll have to step in and stop him at times because he will go to the ends of earthbread for you.

-He’s so giving, always thinking of things he can do for you or gifts to get that would make you smile so widely at him. It’s something the other Ancients tease him relentlessly for, especially Golden Cheese and Hollyberry. 

-Though, they are all fond of you in their own way. It’s been a long time since Pure Vanilla has been so… contented with things. He finds pure joy in doting on you, and he feels secure having someone who loves him as he is. None of them can disapprove of you when you make him so happy.

-They tell you embarrassing stories of him when he was younger, not a hero or a god, but a regular cookie who tripped over his own two feet and made a fool of himself. They tell you plenty of embarrassing stories about him having earned his power too and believe that to be true, but the ones they seem most fond of are those before they rose to their current titles.

-Pure Vanilla always huffs and pouts, but doesn’t interject much more than that when he sees the wide grin on your face. Seeing you get along with his long-time friends is very important to him, so he’s glad they’ve taken a liking to you. 

-Even Dark Cacao Cookie seems to like you, humoring your little jokes and jabs as you give them. He feels as though he’s chosen the right cookie to love – though, he supposes you chose him and he just followed your lead like he always does.

-There is one tiny dilemma, though… White Lily Cookie. See, it’s not as though she is a threat to your relationship at all. She would never and could never interfere, even if she still held feelings for Pure Vanilla (if she ever did in the first place). Pure Vanilla is just a trainwreck of grief and regret surrounding her, his dearest friend.

-His love for you has never wavered, not once since he fell for you, but for a moment when he sees her, he’s terrified that it might. All of those feelings hit him at once, and he is again that reckless young cookie at the academy following her around like a lost puppy. She looks at him and his heart races, then it sinks to the pits of his stomach.

-How could he be so selfish to consider hurting you in such a way, for even a moment? He and White Lily Cookie were no longer the same as they were before their falling out, he knew that, and yet his past crept up on him like a monster in the shadows. It makes his stomach churn.

-But you lay a hand on his arm, and you give him this look like you know exactly what’s going on, and suddenly it’s all alright. You’re right here, and you’re all he needs. He knows that more than anyone else.

-That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting in your chest when you see the way he looks at her, but you know your Pure Vanilla. He would never do anything to hurt you, he was the kindest and most loving cookie you have ever had the privilege to share your life with.

-Now, with that established, we can divulge into him as your partner.

-As I mentioned he’s very giving, but he’s terrible and receiving gifts from you. He’s not used to it, and he may outright refuse to accept it, but if you push him he’ll give. He always loves what you give him anyway, even if it’s the smallest insignificant thing. It always gets displayed somewhere he can see it, or he makes a way to use it in his daily life.

-It takes him a while to be open with you. He feels his feelings and thoughts are a burden on you, so his worries usually go unspoken unless you notice them yourself. 

-If you notice something and point it out, he’ll tell you what's wrong. He wouldn’t want to lie to you and make you more worried about things. He downplays it a lot, though. It takes a lot of stubbornness on your part to get him to open up and admit when he’s feeling really bad.

-He does let you in little by little, and you get to see more of Pure Vanilla as he is beneath all the smiles and passivity.

-I also mentioned that he’s verbally affectionate over physically. He gives you so much praise it makes your head spin in circles. Everything you do is worth praising in his eyes, even silly little things like finding your way through the castle or grabbing yourself something special to eat one day.

-Constantly mentions how lucky he is to have you, his admiration truly knows no end. Ah, and he speaks of you all around the kingdom. Other cookies think you’re a literal saint thanks to him, and you’re treated with so much respect by those in the cookie kingdom.

-Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie all adore you, and get so very excited when you offer to go on an adventure with them. (Much to Pure Vanilla’s worry and dismay.) The way you interact with them makes Pure Vanilla’s chest ache at the sight. You’re so wonderful with children, he loves seeing the way you handle them with love and care. Makes him wonder what you might be like with children of your own… Ah, that’s not a trail of thought he should go down too far just yet. One day, though.

-As sweet and loving as he is, he’s fiercely protective of you. He’s lost quite a bit in his life, and he knows he will lose more, he’d like to prevent another loss if he can help it though. If you argue with him, it’s almost always about this.

-He doesn’t like you going to dangerous locations, he doesn’t like it when you leave his side for more than a day or so, and he certainly doesn’t approve of you putting yourself at risk for adventure. Usually, you settle this by just having him come with you, but sometimes even that isn’t enough for him.

-Regardless, the angriest you see him (other than the Shadow Milk incident lol), is when you are at risk. It’s easy to forget he’s very powerful, akin to a god, but he is. He is not afraid to use that power to protect you if he must. (It’s lowkey hot I’m ngl.)

-Now he’s not the type to go overboard with this kind of stuff, he’ll only do what he must to remove the threat if he has to. He is not afraid to be violent if he needs to be, though. Immediately after he will worry over you with such gentleness it will give you whiplash.

-He’s aware his outbursts of anger are uncommon and jarring from his usual demeanor, but he’s just a cookie after all. He loves you very much, and if he can keep you safe he will for as long as you live.

-Jealousy is rare from him, which is to be expected, but he does get jealous. Specifically when he sees you interacting with cookies in a way he can’t interact with you. Physical affection is usually what gets him upset.

-Not that he can’t be physically affectionate, but that he has a hard time being physical with anyone. It’s a difficult thing he struggles with, and while you’re understanding and loving, he can’t stop the rare annoyance bubbling up in his chest when he sees one of your friends touching you so casually.

-It’s the only time other cookies might get to see him frown around the kingdom, a displeased expression etched across his normally gentle features. It won’t fade until you return your attention to him and make him feel validated in his feelings.

-After these stints, it is common that he drags you (pulls you gently by your hand) back to his room and cuddles up to you in the quiet of his bedroom. He’ll whisper his worries at your insistence, and melt into your touch as you soothe him instead of scolding like most others would.

-Oh, and it’s very very bad when Shadow Milk Cookie is involved. Shadow Milk knows just how to get under his skin, and you are an easily accessible soft spot.

-Not only is Shadow Milk far more open in expressing himself than Pure Vanilla is, but he’s very physical with everything. While Shadow Milk may not see you as anything more than a doll to play with, it infuriates Pure Vanilla to see him touch you and flirt with you like you are his when you are Pure Vanilla’s. 

-He brings out that possessive side of Pure Vanilla that he represses as hard as he can. He doesn’t want to share you, though. Not with anyone and especially not Shadow Milk Cookie. You are his life partner, the person he loves more than anything in the world, that’s not something he’s ever had before and he doesn’t want anyone else to be able to feel what your love feels like. Allow him to be selfish just this once.

-I also have a belief that ancients have something similar to a beast bite, though it’s less common that any of them “mark” a partner. Pure Vanilla is the least likely to leave such a mark on you unless you seem insistent upon learning about it.

-Functionally it’s similar to the beast bite, but there is no need for biting in their case – they can if they’d like to, though. Instead, it’s just a magical seal that can be placed upon your dough that resembles their souljam. It connects the two of you physically and emotionally. 

-When Pure Vanilla misses you, it sends a wave of sadness through you. A longing that is not your own, but feels so familiar to your own that you could easily mistake it as such. His emotions always come in big waves that nearly drown you then quiet down again as soon as they come.

-Pure Vanilla, again, wouldn’t place one on you unless you really wanted it. If you did, though, he would place it right where your spine meets your neck. The little blue mark peeks over the tops of your shirts like a tease, reminding everyone who you are with.

-Just because he is kind doesn’t mean he can’t also be a little possessive of you. You’re wonderful, after all, he can’t risk any cookie thinking you’re available.

-Besides the blue looks stunning on your dough, if he says so himself. And he does.

-Now, onto the bedroom.

-To start I’ll say Pure Vanilla is deceptively innocent-looking. It’s easy to imagine he feels no urges or wants in a sexual sense, but that’s not true at all. He’s just good at repressing them. And he’s repressed them for years and years and years.

-His sexual experience is probably also low, but I can imagine he’s had sex previously with a cookie or two (maybe even White Lily, depending on the circumstances). The important thing is that he has experience, and he’s not as awkward about it as one might think.

-It’s very similar to how he falls in love with you, once he gets a taste he really can’t stop himself from falling further and further down.

-He’s very patient though, so he won’t initiate your first time together. He’d rather you decide that since he’s more than ready to do whatever you’d like. (He’d been thinking about it since three months in, but he didn’t want to move too fast so he just pretended nothing was wrong.)

-When you do decide you are ready, he is there waiting with open arms for you. He makes sure your first time together is all about what you want and focuses on making sure you feel good. He’s a people pleaser in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

-But, if he had to pick what he preferred, he’d probably admit to being a service top. He likes to make you feel good, and he wants to know everything that makes your body react to him. He treats it like a secret ancient knowledge that only he is privy to. 

-He likes to know you in every aspect of your life, the bedroom is no different. He takes his time always, preferring to go slow and steady rather than fast and rough. He’s a quick learner too, picking up your likes and dislikes with an ease that would make any student jealous. Within two, maybe three sessions he’s got you read like a book. It’s infuriating how easily he manages to get you to melt under his touch.

-If you want to top, he’ll oblige you, though you can tell he really prefers taking care of you over being taken care of. There’s just something so special about being allowed to have you like this. So soft and pliant beneath him. All the trust in the world rests on his shoulders, and he holds it like it is the most important thing in the world.

-And he is so, so giving during sex.

-He takes his time with you, starting with slow and deep kisses that trail down your neck. He worships you like a god, smothering your dough with his affections. Not an inch of you will be left untouched from his lips, burning your skin into his memories so he never forgets how it feels beneath his tongue.

-And he whispers such loving words of admiration, talking about how wonderful you are for him. Mumbling against you that you taste so sweet and that each noise you make sounds like a symphony to his ears. He encourages you to let go, allow him to love you as you are, and let him see all the most vulnerable sides of you because that is all he wants.

-When he tastes your juices he sighs like he is in heaven. His pleasure is only found in you, after all. Your taste is something he could easily fall into addiction for, just like every other part of you.

-You can be rough with him while he goes down on you if you’d like, he doesn’t mind at all. Grab and pull at his hair, grind yourself into his face, and squeeze him between your legs with all your might. They’re just signs he’s doing his job right, after all.

-Oh, he’s a huge proponent of eye contact. While he can’t quite see well all the time, he always has his eyes open and on you when he can help it. This is especially prevalent when he is inside you (or when you are inside him).

-He presses his forehead to yours and watches your face contort in pleasure, allowing you to do the same. It makes the act more intimate, and he feels so much more connected to you like this. Like he can really see you for who you are in these moments, and feel that love that burns for him in your gaze.

-Alongside this, he always holds your hand. Regardless of if he’s going down on you or if you’re riding him or anything he is adamant your hands remain interlocked. It’s another layer of connection that he uses as a means of expressing his love for you.

-If you can’t tell, he’s seriously into body worship. He loves every inch of you, and sex is the easiest way that he can express this to you.

-He uses sex as an extension of his affection for you, rather than something for fun or to stake claim. It’s another form of love to him, and you can feel this through the way he treats you with such gentleness during the whole act.

-I don’t believe he’s into much other than what I’ve listed above. He’s very vanilla (lol) and traditional about sex, preferring things to be simple, sweet, and loving. 

-He prefers to keep things in the bedroom, the idea of being caught makes him run hot, but you can convince him to try a few riskier places. Like the pagoda or in quiet rooms near other cookies, so long as the doors are locked and there’s no risk of interruption.

-He does not like being cared for during the deed, it makes him feel guilty that you’re caring for him when he would rather care for you. If you are insistent he’ll give in, but he makes it known he would prefer to be providing than being provided for.

[yoongelectric]

Drunk in love — LN4

~ believe when i say that you’ll know once you taste it

• part 2: blame it on the vodka

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the night where you and lando just wanted to forget about each other but ended up getting closer than ever

genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: curse words, jealousy, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex, breeding kink

notes: english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry ig there’s any mistakes. i might have gotten a little excited with the lenght of this fic, part 2 will be shorter

The music plays loudly within the walls of your room as you and your best friend get ready for the night. After hours and hours of trying to convince you, Olivia had finally made it, not that you weren't a party girl, in fact you adored it, the feeling of being drunk, the people, the dancing, the music, flirting with strangers, you used to spend the whole week looking forward to go to your favorite club but for months now all those good times have lost all meaning when all you can see is your best friend going from girl to girl every weekend without any type of remorse. And for months you’ve been trying to do the same thing to stop thinking about him, only achieving the opposite.

You can’t blame those girls, in fact, you understand them perfectly, not just because Lando is rich and famous, that's the least important thing really, but in any crowd he's always the first man you see, he's handsome, attractive, even magnetic, the kind of man no girl would ever say no to, and you were painfully aware of that, because of course, you were one of those girls who could never say no to him.

That's what bothers you the most, because no matter how many dates you go on, how many strangers you flirt or sleep with, how much time you go without seeing him or speaking to him, you always notice how they are not him, how they don't have his laugh, his eyes, his charisma, his charm, his way of hugging you, his way of making you forget everything and everyone, no matter how good they are in bed, none of them can make you feel the warmth that you feel when he simply holds your hand or rests his hand on your waist to help you walk through a room full of people, and it's already getting tiring to hope that at some point that's going to change.

While you finish applying the sluttiest red lipstick you have, and check that you are not missing anything in your purse, you look at your outfit in the mirror, a little black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, actually, if you are not careful you can flash anyone at any moment, you feel attractive, you know you look pretty, but you also know that neither this dress, nor the makeup you spent so much time on, nor your perfect hair will be enough for Lando to look at you the way you want.

Olivia seems to notice the sad expression on your face, "y/n don't make that face, if Lando is stupid enough to not make a move on you then he doesn't deserve you to spend another second thinking about him" she says handing me a shot of vodka that I swallow without hesitation

“Do you think I'm in love with him because I want to, Olivia? If it was up to me I would only see him as the friend he sees in me, that's what he wants, but it seems I can't.”

“if you want to believe that he sees you only as a friend then go on, i think he’s just a pussy” Olivia shouts from the door as I grab my keys and follow her.

-

Lando stared at his glass of whiskey, lost in thought, looking at the time on his watch from time to time thinking about when you would arrive, he was dying to see you, he didn't know if he was imagining it but he had this feeling that you’d been avoiding him all week, you didn't answer his messages, and if he called you, you quickly ended the conversation saying that you were busy, you had always been very bad at lying, who can be busy on a Saturday morning? He knew that his doubts would be solved at any moment and oh how he wished it was just his head fucking with him.

In the distance he saw a girl who he could have sworn was you, but after looking at her for a few seconds he slapped himself internally for having mistaken you for someone else, how could you be that girl? She doesn't have your grace, nor the light that seems to follow you everywhere making you look untouchable, the people around her don't turn around automatically and he doesn't feel that comfort in his heart when looking at her, but what's the point anyway? None of them make him feel anything like that, none of them are like you and he knows it.

He knows that you are the girl for him, he has known it since he won his first race and as soon as he crossed the finish line the first thing he thought was if you would be proud of him. He knows that he will probably love you all his life and that without you his destiny is to wait for someone to entertain him enough to not think about you all the time. He knows how sad that is and he's not sure if he can continue like this for much more, but he can't condemn you to what a relationship with him means, he barely has time for himself and how could he try to have a relationship with you if he can't give you all the time you deserve? How can he try to be with you if it means you have to be moving from one side of the world to the other all the time or not see him as often as he would like?

If everything was different he would have jumped right into your arms months ago, but you deserve much more than what he can give you.

Max's voice brings him out of his thoughts telling him something painfully true "so you’re already looking for a girl who looks like Y/N to spend the night?" How much more time can he spend trying to find you in another person? probably a lot less than he thinks.

-

He was hypnotized, watching you dance with your friends, running your hands over your body, laughing and looking so sexy, since you arrived he couldn't stop looking at you, a feeling between how bothered he was by that sinful dress that hugged your body in all the right places and the concern for the cold greeting he had received, he was gripping his glass tightly and using all his will not to grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he wanted to ask you the reason behind your actions, how were you able to stay away from him, when it felt impossible for him to do that.

It was then that he saw him, tall, with a bright smile, just the type of boy you've always liked, he approached you and spoke to you so carefree, calm, without the all the nerves Lando felt every time he had to get too close to you. He doesn't know what the boy said to you that made your laugh echo throughout all the VIP area but he was sure as hell it couldn't be that funny, how could your eyes shine like that looking at someone that two seconds ago you didn't know existed? how could you look at a stranger the way Lando had always wanted for you to look at him? oh how oblivious he was

As soon as he tried to get up to stop the situation, he felt the hand of the same girl he had seen earlier on his shoulder and as some type of divine signal it was then that he came to his senses. If he really loved you, he should let you live your own life.

Back to where you were, the nameless boy grinded against you while grabbing your hip and the two of you danced to the rhythm of the music, he was cute, sure, he was nice and funny, but in your drunken state your head seemed to betray you making you think about Lando over and over again, each song seemed to be talking about him, about you, about the two of you, and just when you were trying to get away from the boy it occurred to you to look at him, At this point you should be used to it, glass in hand, a girl on his lap, kissing so passionately it made you want to cry.

You were fucking sick of it, sick of the looks of pity from all your friends, of not being able to get mad at the girl, or Lando, you could only be mad at yourself for having these stupid feelings and not being able to settle for his friendship that at the end of the day was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you really don't know how or when but you were glued to a wall kissing the guy, he was grabbing your ass tightly and biting your lip while you were pulling his hair trying to understand the situation you found yourself in, with far too many drinks on you, the jealousy, shame and unreciprocated feelings you felt for your best friend, you decided to lose yourself in the touch of the boy you had just met.

When the girl moved away from him to take a breath he saw you, your hair messy, your dress rolled up and that son of a bitch's hands grabbing you just like he would like to do, he didn't even have the decency to take you somewhere more private, but again, who was he to get involved in what you were doing if he knew that he couldn't give you what you deserved anyway, so he grabbed the girl's face and continued kissing her, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, the weight of the girl on his lap made him wish it was you, Lando wanted you to grab his hair just like you did with the boy you were kissing, he knew he could make you feel much better than him, he would take you somewhere empty because only he should be the only one to see you this way, he would grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he would kiss you with so much feelings that you wouldn't doubt his love for you, the erection that grew underneath his pants made him imagine how good you would feel rubbing yourself on him and he was sure it would feel like heaven listening to you moaning his name when he went down to kiss your neck.

“fuck, y/n just like that, baby” he didn't expect that it was going to be your name the one that escaped his lips.

The look of confusion and shock from the girl who was sitting on his lap brought him back to reality, and he doesn't know if he was suddenly sober or if all the alcohol that was in his system hit him at once but his body, his mind and all his senses told him to look for y/n, so apologizing to the girl and getting her off of him, he began to look for his love.

He looked around but there was no sign of her, her friends were still dancing in the same place but she and the boy he had seen her with earlier had disappeared, he asked Max but he told him that he had lost sight of them ago. For a while, when he saw Olivia, he realized that if anyone could help him, it was her.

he got into the crowd of dancing girls trying to get her friend's attention, "Olivia, hey, where did y/n go?" He said when the girl finally saw him

"Lando, I think you should leave her alone, she's busy" your friend knew that today you just needed to forget about him.

"Did she leave with him? Just tell me if she's still here, please" Lando was desperate, he feared that if he didn't find you now he would never have the courage to confess his feelings to you again

Olivia finally gave up "she just told me she was going to his house, I don't think they're gone yet" she took a deep breath and added "she's trying to forget you, I know deep down you know that, don't do anything if you know you're gonna hurt her, Lando."

"Thank you, i promise i will not" he said before running to the club’s door

You don't know why you agreed to this, but you found yourself walking towards the car of the boy you just met today, do you really want this? you don't know, in your head you just think that maybe this is it, maybe he can make you forget about Lando, in fact, you should be happy, he is cute, hot, funny, attentive and respectful, why aren't you happy? And why do you feel so relieved when you feel a hand on your shoulder stopping you?

"y/n, please don't go with him" you turn around when you hear the familiar voice and you feel your stomach do a thousand flips when you see the person you've been thinking about all night.

You pause to look at him before speaking, he looks agitated, in a hurry even, as if he was going to run out of time, but even in that state he is the most attractive man you have ever seen, some buttons on his shirt are undone showing his chest, as if the slightly see-through fabric wasn't enough, his tanned skin glowing under the night lights and you don't understand why he has to come out of nowhere now to ruin anyone else for you.

"Lando, is everything okay?" Your voice denotes concern and Lando just wants to have you in his arms.

"lov- sorry, y/n" he corrected himself "don't go with him, I need to talk to you, please, I need you to give me a chance"

"what are you talking about?" Your words came out like a whisper, you had to be misunderstanding him, or not?

"Sorry mate, this isn't your fault, but I love her, she's the love of my life, I can't let her go."

Suddenly you remembered the boy who was there with you, you looked over your shoulder, you only saw confusion in his gaze and you felt sorry for how he had ended up in this situation just because of bad luck, you shared a look and the boy understood that he had to leave.

"Lando, if this is some kind of joke or you're just doing it because that girl rejected you, I want you to know that it's not funny."

Lando felt a pang of pain in his chest, what had he been doing wrong all this time for you to believe him capable of playing with you like that?

"this isn’t a joke, y/n, I'm tired of pretending that I don't just love you, baby." he said taking a few steps until he was right in front of you "I don't know what I did for you to not want to see me or talk to me, but let me fix it, even if you don't feel the same way, I need you to treat me like before, I miss you love"

"I was just trying to forget you, Lando" the tears began to fall down your face and you didn't know if you felt shame, joy, anger or relief, if he felt the same, why had he made you see him with all those girls before? Why hadn't he spoken sooner? Why hadn't you spoken sooner?

you felt his lips on yours, and for the second time that night you were kissing someone, but this time everything made sense, you could only think about lando, you were right where you wanted to be, you were aware of his touch in every place where his body made contact with yours and time seemed to have stopped, you were addicted to the feeling of finally having him all to yourself and you didn't want to stop even to take a breath or move to another place.

He felt the same way and with all his strength he moved away just enough to mumble "let's get out of here."

-

The car ride to your house felt like a fever dream, you wanted to talk to each other but you had so many ideas in your head that you didn't know what to say first, you wanted to touch each other but you didn't want to spend another minute without being in a place just for the you two, so all you did was share looks of love and happy giggles

You two were finally home and it seemed like you were glued to each other, the heat in the room was becoming more and more unbearable as you kissed, grabbed and caressed each other, thanks to muscle memory you managed to get to your room and Lando just pushed you to the bed before climbing into it straddling you

"So pretty, baby, I can't believe I finally have you" he said kissing your neck and lifting your dress asking permission to take it off.

You nodded silently and Lando wasted no time in removing the garment that covered your body. He began to run kisses and licks over your shoulders, collarbones, arms and stomach until he left you desperate and trembling beneath him. You knew he was enjoying it but you had waited so long for this that you couldn't stand him not touching you right where you wanted, losing your patience you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“nuh huh, that's my job, precious, let me enjoy you just the way I want” He said kissing, sucking and biting your neck, his words sending shivers to the wet areas of your skin.

"Lando, please, you're going to have plenty of time to enjoy me in every way you want, just fuck me already, I can't wait." As you spoke you couldn't help but arch your back when lando gently bit your collarbone making a moan escape your mouth.

you heard him laugh cockily "plenty of time? does that mean we're going on a second date?" and just when you thought about slapping him for his bad joke you felt him cup your pussy relieving half of the tension you felt.

He lived to please you and if you wanted to get to the point that's what he would do, he quickly got rid of your bra attacking one of your nipples with his tongue, circling the muscle over it before taking it all in his mouth, moaning softly into it, after a while he moved to your other nipple, repeating his actions, but paying attention to the previous one with his big, rough, veiny hands, you were a moaning mess, and every once in a while you had to remind yourself that this was really happening and it wasn't a product of your imagination.

"mmh Lando that feels so good, please don't stop" you said trying to reach his member to touch it over his clothes, but you instantly felt him pin your arms over your head

"not yet, y/n tonight is all about you, let me make you feel good" he said moving down to your hips leaving kisses right on the waistline of your panties

He stopped to look at the lace panties you were wearing, black and all see-through, they were sexy but at the same time elegant and Lando felt like he would faint right there.

"these are so pretty, it's a shame i have to take them off," he said, taking your underwear on each side and removing it in one go.

It was at that moment that he saw you naked for the first time, you looked so hot but also innocent, the look of desire and at the same time love in your eyes could not be compared to anything that Lando had seen before, and he couldn't believe he had been missing on this for so long.

He ran a hand over your wet center and hissed at the sensation.

"baby, please do something, I'm going crazy" you begged, pushing your hips against his hand, trying to get more friction.

"well, since you're in such a hurry, god, we have to work on your patience, love." Without warning, Lando put a finger inside your hole and at the same time went down to lick your clit, while leaving his finger still inside you, he licked your bundle of nerves from side to side, up and down and circling his tongue against you, the euphoria you felt at that moment didn’t allow you to speak, the only thing that came out of your mouth were desperate breaths and moans of his name repeatedly. Every time you dared to look between your legs and saw your friend's piercing eyes you felt yourself embarrassingly quick getting closer to the edge.

"Lando, I need more, please, I want to cum."

so you felt a second finger inside you, he began to move them at a soft and strong pace, curving them inside you in the most delicious way, it didn't take long for you to finish all over his mouth and fingers, with a scream of his name and pulling him against you by his hair, he continued sucking your clit until you pushed his head due to overstimulation.

“You taste so good, my love, please let me do it again” he said kissing your inner thighs trying to open your legs again.

"another time, babe, I want you to fuck me, I need to feel you" you said pulling him from his shirt, you were feeling a little self conscious as you noticed how he was fully dressed and you were naked in front of him, so you unbuttoned his pants begging him to take them off, he, always willing to please you, pulled them down at the same time with his boxers, letting his dick come out freely in front of your face.

None of all the dirty nights you spent thinking about him could prepare you for what was in front of your eyes, his member, the perfect length, thick and veiny, with his tip all wet, seemed to beg you to put it in your mouth.

And that’s what you did, kneeling on the bed in front of him, licking the tip vaguely and without wasting much time you started sucking on it. Lando grabbed your hair in a ponytail and allowed himself to enjoy the heat of your mouth.

You wanted to make him feel good, it was the only thing you could think at that moment, and when you looked up and saw his face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back and tasted his salty precum you could only moan in satisfaction, the entire moment made you so wet again and your hole clenched around nothing.

Against all his desire and will, Lando removed his dick from your mouth, it felt so good, but he needed to fuck you, he needed to feel your wet walls around him, so once again he pushed you on the bed and put your legs on his shoulders.

"Are you ready?" The question felt like a joke, you had been ready for months.

"yes, so ready, please fuck me"

You felt his member press against your pussy and the wetness made it so easy for him to slide in all at once.

Both of you moaned in unison as you felt that you were finally where you belong, Lando stayed still for a moment to let you get used to the size and to take a breathe so he wouldn’t cum on the spot.

When he saw your desperate face and felt how you pushed your hips against him, Lando began to fuck you without mercy, hand on your neck choking you just the way you like it, grunts and moans escaping from his mouth, turning you on more and more.

"baby, please, I'm so close, you fuck me so so good, I love your dick so much, please" you didn't know what you were saying, you just knew that you didn't want anyone but him.

Lando couldn't help but laugh at your state, but he wasn't much better than you, feeling his orgasm getting closer, he removed his hand from your neck and began to draw circles on your clit, his thrusts were erratic and the trembling in his legs let you know that he wasn't going to last much longer.

"land-o, baby, cum inside, I need you to fill me" and with those simple words the two of you climaxed at the same time, white dots filled your vision and you could swear it was the longest orgasm you’ve ever had, when you came back to your senses, your friend removed his member from your hole and turned your positions so that you were on top of him.

"We should clean up" you said, ignoring your tiredness, trying to be responsible.

"Let's stay like this for a while, I need to hug you, hold you close" despite his tired tone you could hear him talking to you with a smile.

A few minutes passed and just when Lando was about to fall asleep, your words brought him out of his state.

"You know we'll have to talk about this tomorrow, right?"

And just like that, he remembered each and every reason why he hadn't done this before.

[witchywithwhiskey]

how about ransom and “i mean, i got what i wanted, didn’t i?” 👀🫶🏼

can't resist a dare

pairing: best friend!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship, taking nude photos/sending nude photos, filming/recording/taking photos during sex, little bit of exhibitionism, come marking, come facial, light bdsm, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, friends to lovers, revenge on a mean/rude ex

word count: 4,300ish

a/n: whoops, this ended up being longer than i anticipated 😬 but i loved the premise i came up with too much to scrap it and try to write something shorter so here we go!! i just loved the idea of best friend!ransom being a petty perv and reader being just as much of a petty perv 🤭 anyway i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡♡

You never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale. 

The devastatingly handsome grandson of Harlan Thrombey had been your best friend since you were children running around his grandfather’s spooky old house while your families spent time together. Even though you were both grown adults, Ransom still knew how to push all your buttons, and he knew that if he dared you to do something, you’d do it. 

Which was how you’d ended up in the cramped bathroom on the first floor of the Thrombey mansion during Harlan’s May Day party, your body bent over at the waist and your arm contorted behind your back to take a photo of the tiny little thong you’d worn beneath your sundress. 

Ransom had dared you to take a photo of your ass and send it to your ex. You, of course, had risen to the challenge and accepted the dare. 

You hadn’t had nearly enough champagne to make you so reckless, but there was something about your oldest friend that brought out your competitive spirit. Ransom was the only one who could get you to do such things, but you enjoyed being pushed outside of your comfort zone. Plus, you knew your best friend wouldn’t make you do anything that would actually hurt you.

In fact, if you were honest with yourself, there was a part of you that was perversely pleased to be taking such an obscene photo of yourself while some of the richest families in Massachusetts milled around just outside the door. The thought of getting caught taking naughty pictures turned you on more than you wanted to admit, so you hurried up and took the photos. 

When you were done, you picked one you liked and sent it to your ex with a smirk on your face, thinking he should be so lucky as to see your ass one last time. 

Leaving the bathroom, you strutted through the party looking for Ransom, feeling smug about completing the dare. You caught his eye when you entered the library, and even across the room, you could see the amusement dancing in his crystal blue eyes. You made your way through the crowd with a pep in your step, but halfway through, your phone vibrated with a response from your ex.

You opened the text and wished you hadn’t.

Didn’t know you were such a desperate slut, but if you really need dick so bad, I guess I’ll let you ride mine, baby. I know you loved bouncing on it like a whore. 

Your expression twisted into a scowl, and you looked up at your best friend, who was suddenly in front of you. Hurt wrapped around your heart, a part of you feeling—perhaps unfairly—that Ransom should’ve known your ex would text something vile back to you. 

“I did your dare, are you happy now?” you hissed at your best friend, taking out all your hurt and anger on Ransom. You knew you were much more angry at yourself, and your ex, for his hurtful response, but your best friend was the safest target at the moment.

Annoyingly, Ransom looked unaffected by your fury, the satisfied smirk on his face never wavering even as you continued to glare at him. When he responded, his voice was a lazy drawl that reminded you he couldn’t have known the effect of his dare.

“I mean, I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a frustrated huff and opened your phone to the text message you’d gotten from your ex, turning the screen to your best friend so he could read it. “Is this what you wanted?” you sneered, knowing full well your best friend wouldn’t react kindly to what your ex had said. 

You were so determined to show Ransom what he’d done, you didn’t even consider the fact that you were also showing him the photo you’d sent. At least, not until his blue eyes went a little hazy and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.

“The dare didn’t include you showing me the photo,” Ransom drawled, his gaze flicking to yours, the look in his eyes making something hot squirm deep in your core. “But I can’t say I mind—you’ve got a gorgeous ass.” 

Heat rose in your face, and your expression twisted into one of impatient annoyance. “Look at the response, Ran,” you gritted out, trying not to let his compliment get to you. He was your best friend—he was probably just messing with you. But you were soon distracted from what Ransom had said when he finally looked at what your ex had replied.

A storm cloud settled over Ransom’s handsome features, his eyes narrowing into two slits and his mouth twisting into a furious scowl. You even thought you heard a low rumble, like a growl, emanate from your best friend’s chest beneath the din of the party around you. 

“Who does this little shit think he is?” Ransom fumed, grabbing your phone and clicking on the contact info. “Does this motherfucker think he can talk to you like this?” Your best friend’s gaze flicked to yours and something inside you warmed when you saw the righteous anger simmering in his eyes. “And where the fuck does he get off calling you baby?” 

Your mouth opened to answer him, but Ransom just shook his head in a way that quelled you. Instead, he grabbed your hand with his free one and began leading you through the party toward the back of the house. Your feet moved quickly to keep up with his longer strides, and he slowed a little so he didn’t hurt your arm as he tugged you into the backyard. Ransom walked briskly through the gate in the fence that separated the lawn from the forest. 

You knew the forest around the Thrombey mansion just as well as the house itself, with its trees and the occasional statues representing Harlan’s various mystery novels. You and Ransom had played in the forest plenty when you were children, and partied amongst the statues when you were in your teens and early twenties. It was the only place the two of you could have any privacy, and you had to assume that Ransom wanted seclusion to discuss what your ex had said.

At your favorite of the statues in the forest, Ransom pulled to a stop and rounded on you, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. You could tell he had a plan. 

“Do you wanna show your shithead ex what he’s missing?” 

Ransom’s smile was sharp as a knife and you couldn’t help but be distracted by your best friend’s handsomeness, just for a moment. His slicked-back brown hair gleamed in the spring sunshine that trickled down through the leafy trees above, and his broad shoulders filled out his henley so deliciously, you almost forgot the question he asked. 

But then his words broke through your distracted mind and the grin that spread across your face was practically devilish in your delight. “What do you have in mind?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stared up at your best friend with nothing but trust.

Ransom’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a second before he met yours again. “Get on your knees,” he said, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard before. It made heat pool deep in your core and you squirmed a little but didn’t hesitate to follow the order. 

The forest floor was blanketed in a soft carpet of dying leaves, even as new growth flourished around you, the sweet scent of spring filling your senses as you lowered yourself to your knees. Your eyes remained fixed on Ransom’s as your knees hit the soft ground, and though you knew the two of you were alone in the woods, it truly felt as though you were the only two people in the whole world.

You weren’t naive. You knew whatever your best friend had in mind to get back at your ex would be crossing one or two lines you’d never crossed with him before. But you trusted Ransom. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. And, truthfully, a part of you that you kept hidden and locked away so much of the time wanted to cross a line or two with your best friend. 

So you sat on your knees on the ground at Ransom’s feet and stared up at him with all the trust you had in him no doubt written all over your face. You watched as his eyes softened and his mouth curved at the edges into a gentle smile, his expression filled with affection. It was so different to the hard or smarmy mask he wore in public—and even around his family—that you relaxed even further, knowing he’d take care of you even as you got revenge on your ex.

“Stick your tongue out,” Ransom murmured, his voice low and soft and nearly blending in with the breeze rustling the trees above you. His hand reached out and his fingers stroked your cheek, his smile deepening when you nuzzled into his palm before doing as he said. “Good girl, now look at me like you wanna suck my cock.”

A bolt of heat shot through you, nearly making you shiver as warmth bloomed, feral and unbidden, within your body. Ransom’s command was certainly crossing a line, but it felt like permission, too. For the first time in a very long time, you let the feelings you’d hidden away come rushing to the surface. The force of them surprised you, and you found yourself leaning into the arousal that swirled through your body.

With your tongue already sticking out, you let yourself sink into the desire you felt to suck Ransom’s cock and let it show in the way you were posed. You arched your back to stick out your ass and push up your chest, giving your best friend a good view of your tits in your dress. Letting your eyes go heavy-lidded with arousal, you stared eagerly up at your best friend.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide and his lips parting as he let out a heavy breath. He looked transfixed by you, and if you weren’t sticking your tongue out, you would’ve smirked at his reaction to you.

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Ransom shook himself lightly and he held up your phone, swiping it open to the camera. You watched as he angled it the way he wanted, and waited patiently while he took a few pictures of you on your knees in front of him. 

When his eyes returned to your face, you relaxed your pose a little, expecting him to give you your phone so you could pick out a photo to send to your ex. Instead, Ransom gave you a considering look.

“Do you really wanna piss off your ex?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made butterflies stir in your belly even as more warmth trickled down between your thighs. A slow, evil grin spread across his handsome face that made your stomach flutter and your core clench. “Do you wanna show him what he’s missing?’

“Yes.” Your answer slipped from your lips before you really had a chance to think about it, but once it was out, you wouldn’t take it back. You trusted Ransom, you really wanted to get back at your ex, and, even more than that, you were desperately curious to see how far your best friend would take things. So you doubled down, giving him an evil smile of your own. “Yes, I do.”

Ransom’s grin turned a little smug as he looked at you with mischievous delight dancing in his eyes. The dappled light of the sunny spring day shifted across his face, and you sucked in a silent breath at just how handsome your best friend was. Your heart thumped in your chest, but you pushed the meaning behind that feeling aside and focused on the moment.

“Unzip my pants and pull my cock out,” Ransom murmured, his tone low and rough as gravel, sending a shiver down your spine.

Immediately, your eyes dropped to the front of your best friend’s slacks and you couldn’t help but notice the bulge there. A delighted smile curled the edges of your mouth. Ransom was just as turned on by you as you were by him. That knowledge gave you the courage you needed to do as he said. 

Your fingers fumbled excitedly with Ransom’s clothes as you pushed up his henley and undid the button and fly of his pants. You pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips, revealing the long length of his cock. It bounced free from his briefs and you sucked in a sharp gasp. He was so thick and long, your body clenched with the need to be filled just at the sight of your best friend’s cock.

Eagerly, you leaned forward, pressing your face to the underside of Ransom’s cock and inhaling the clean, musky scent of him. He smelled so good, you could feel your body react to your best friend’s cock, your pussy soaking your thong and making a mess of your thighs. Tilting your head back, you turned your heavy-lidded eyes up to Ransom, staring up at him while you nuzzled into his hard length.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ransom rasped, giving you an encouraging nod while his thumb tapped the screen of your phone, taking photos of you. “Look so pretty with my cock on your face, baby.”

A pleased smile curved your lips and your eyes closed as you savored the wonderful feeling of Ransom’s praise. It made your body warm even further, and you conveyed how happy it made you by pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Ransom’s cock. He rumbled an appreciative sound and when you looked up at him again, his eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen, his entire attention focused entirely on you.

You liked having Ransom’s attention and you didn’t wait for him to give you more instructions. Trailing your lips up the length of his cock, you pressed wet, suckling kisses to the velvety soft skin wrapped around the hardness beneath. You didn’t know which of you enjoyed it more—Ransom, with his face twisted into a look of pleasure and his chest heaving, or you, with your pussy dripping between your thighs. 

It seemed to take Ransom a moment to remember what he was supposed to be doing, that the point of you being on your knees was to record what you were doing to get back at your ex. He tapped the screen of your phone once, and when he spoke, there was something in his voice that made you think he was recording a video—a tenor of encouragement that made you want to perform.

“How d’you like my cock, baby?” he asked, a smirk clear on his face and in his tone. “Am I bigger than your ex?”

You wanted to grin and laugh—Ransom’s cock was much bigger than your ex’s. Instead, you curved your lips into your most vixenish smile and nuzzled into your best friend’s hardness like it was your most cherished stuffed animal. 

“I looove your cock, Ran,” you purred in a sultry voice, not having to try hard to show your appreciation for him. You pressed a kiss to his hard length and licked the underside of the head, wringing a grunt from your best friend. “You have such a big cock, daddy, way bigger than my ex—I don’t know how I’m gonna fit you in my tight little throat.” You batted your lashes up at the camera while you swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up your best friend’s precum. 

Ransom tapped your phone and moved it out of the way so he could look straight at you, raising one of his eyebrows in amusement. “‘Daddy’?” he asked, a delighted smirk curving his lips.

You stroked Ransom’s cock while you pulled back to answer. “My ex always wanted me to call him that, but it never felt right,” you said, making a face before you leaned forward again, wrapping your lips around the tip of your best friend’s cock and sucking on him lightly. Ransom grunted in pleasure.

“Keep going, baby, we’ll show that shithead what he’s never gonna have,” Ransom rasped, lifting your phone up again and tapping the screen while you took his cock deeper into your mouth. “Suck daddy’s cock, baby, be a good girl and show me how much you love my dick.”

You wanted to smile at Ransom’s filthy words, but instead you focused your attention entirely on his cock, bobbing your head on his hard length until the tip of him was pressing against the back of your throat. You’d never taken anyone as big as him, but you were determined to deep throat your best friend, so you relaxed your throat and pushed yourself. After a few tries, you took him all the way in, until his cock was bulging in your throat and your nose was pressed flat to his stomach.

“Oh fuck, jesus christ, baby,” Ransom shouted when you swallowed around him, your throat squeezing his hardness as you fought to keep him buried to the root in your mouth. Tears streamed down your face, and drool trickled down your chin, but you paid it no mind, focusing entirely on your best friend’s cock.

His big hand settled on the crown of your head, fingers flexing like he wanted to grab you and hold you down on his cock. Your pussy clenched at the thought, but Ransom seemed not to want to hurt you, so he simply bucked his hips a little, fucking your throat in short thrusts. 

“Shit, ‘m gonna come,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained in a way you’d never heard before. It made you squeeze your thighs together as more wetness flooded your already messy slit. “Baby, ‘m gonna come, holy fuck, your throat feels so fucking good, oh fuck.”

When his cock started to twitch, you pulled off and smiled sweetly up at your best friend. “Come on my face, Ran,” you panted, your voice breathy as you stared directly into Ransom’s darkened eyes. 

It took you a moment to realize Ransom’s hand holding your phone had dropped to his side, and the entirety of his focus was on you—just you. A pleased smile curled your lips while you pumped your best friend’s cock in your fist, squeezing the tip while he tossed his head back and let out a loud, pleasured groan.

Ransom came, muttering, “Baby, baby, baby,” under his breath, ropes of his come landing all over your face, joining the tears, spit and drool already coating your cheeks and chin. You opened your mouth, catching some of his spend on your tongue and humming happily at the musky taste of him. 

When Ransom tipped his head back up and opened his eyes to look at you, his mouth fell open in a helpless moan when he took in the state of you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes roving over your face hungrily, like he couldn’t get enough of seeing you with his come on your cheeks. “You look so pretty covered in my come, baby,” he murmured, warmth and affection in his tone as he stroked your jaw, one of the few places on your face that wasn’t messy.

You grinned up at your best friend, pleased at his praise, though that didn’t stop you from teasing him. “Why don’t you take a picture, daddy, it’ll last longer,” you sassed. But once the words were out, you realized how serious you were about the suggestion. When Ransom raised his eyebrows in question, you whispered, “Use your phone—if you want.”

Ransom didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants and angled it above your face. “Smile for me, baby,” he murmured softly, and you couldn’t help but follow the gentle command. He took a few photos of you, sitting on your knees in the forest, covered in his come. 

Once he was done, he stowed both your phones in his pocket and pulled his henley off over his head, leaving him in a simple white t-shirt. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he started using the soft cotton garment to clean your face. He was gentle, wiping the come from your face and then clearing away your ruined makeup. 

Somehow, it felt so much more intimate than sucking your best friend’s cock and all you could do was sit there, your heart pounding in your chest while you let Ransom take care of you. His gaze caught yours, and you saw his crystal blue eyes were swirling with just as much emotion as was filling your heart, and something seemed to pass between the two of you—an understanding that something had changed between you.

When he’d cleaned your face to the best of his ability, Ransom tucked his cock away then helped you to stand, supporting your weight while he brushed the dirt and leaves off your knees. You leaned heavily against his chest when he stood up, his arms looping easily around you and you shared another silent moment, both of you smiling and staring into each other’s eyes.

It was you who ended up breaking the moment, asking the question that was making you burn with curiosity. “Are we really going to send those pictures and videos to my ex?” you asked, watching your best friend’s face for his reaction. Truth be told, you still wanted to get back at your ex for what he’d said, but since Ransom’s cock was in them, he had a right to a say in it.

He seemed to be watching you just as carefully as you were watching him. “Do you want to?” he asked, his voice toneless. He was leaving it up to you.

An evil smile spread across your face, Ransom’s lips curving into a smirk in response. “Yeah,” you said brashly. “Let him see what he could’ve had.”

“Just as long as you tell him who’s dick you’re sucking,” Ransom murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your phone from his pocket to hand to you. “I want him to know you’re my girl now.”

At those possessive words, you looked up at your best friend in surprise, but Ransom only gave you a look like you should know better.

Ducking your head, you hid an exceptionally pleased smile as you turned in Ransom’s arms and leaned back against his broad chest so he could watch over your shoulder. Together, you picked out the best photos and videos to send to your ex.

Sorry! Sent that to the wrong person. These are just for you. Oh and Ransom says hi. 

You couldn’t help but giggle when your ex immediately started blowing up your phone, taking great pleasure in blocking him. When you were done, you handed your phone back to Ransom to hold for you, since your dress didn’t have pockets, and you turned in his arms again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you looked up at your best friend with a smile.

“So I’m your girl now, huh?” you asked, unable to let him get away with just a look for confirmation.

Ransom’s strong arms wound around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. “As if I’d be such a fool as to let anyone else have you,” he said, snorting to himself. “I’m not as stupid as your ex.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, laughing at the unamused look he shot you. 

But then Ransom silenced your laughter with a kiss, his mouth slanting to yours perfectly. All at once, you let the emotions you’d bottled up for so long flow free, and you clung to Ransom as you both deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth like he was staking a claim, and you answered him back with just as much fervor. 

It was less a first kiss and more a devouring of souls as the two of you made out in the woods of the Thrombey estate.

Finally, Ransom pulled away with a groan. “OK, here’s the plan,” he said with a huff, pressing his forehead to yours. His chest was heaving as he caught his breath, but he soldiered on. “We go back, tell everyone you have a headache and I’m gonna drive you home,” he said, pausing briefly to kiss you. “Then I take you back to my place and we don’t leave my bed for two days—maybe three.”

Laughing and nodding you pushed up on your tiptoes and kissed Ransom again. “Three, definitely three,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you again.

 Before he pulled away entirely, though, Ransom caught your eye and you knew from the mischief sparkling in the depths of his gaze that he had another dare for you. You grinned eagerly. 

“I dare you to take off your thong and go back to the party with your needy little cunt dripping down your thighs for me,” Ransom rumbled, his voice deliciously low and deep and making you want to jump him right there in the woods.

When Ransom raised an eyebrow in a challenging look, your pussy clenched at the filthy dare, your whole body warming as arousal flooded through you again. You didn’t know what expression your face was making, but it made Ransom grin and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“If you’re a good girl, daddy will give you a reward when we get to my place,” he murmured. 

But Ransom hadn’t needed to offer you an incentive.

After all, you never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

[codnriddlewhore]

Don't do this | a Tom Riddle oneshot

A/N: HII soo this is my first attempt at fics, dont hesitate to say anything, good or bad

k have fun :))

tags: professor tom riddle/professor reader, marriage, angst, horcruxes, sorry if i forget any

wc: 1,584

They've been together, inseparable for 3 years, married for 2 and a half. 

Tom saw her as an equal as much as someone like him could, she entranced his very being. They talked about subjects he was interested in, in a very objective and intelligent way and he was in awe when he realised he found a match, someone that could understand his fascinations and obsessions. She mostly didn't share them but she was open, he could ask her at 2 in the morning which one of the unforgivable 

curses she'd use to get information from someone and she'd genuinely give it some thought. 

Her fascinations lay more in the zoological department, muggle and magical. She spent hours in forests and jungles, the beings holding her attention for hours. Though, like Tom, she found it hard to open up to people and find like-minded individuals not just regarding creatures but life in general. When he asked to come with her on one of her shorter research-trips, she felt her body and sould levitate. Her greatest wish has always been to grow old with someone loving by her side, someone who she'd love back with her whole self.  Is it him? She hoped so and prayed every night.

He felt the same when she asked about his sketches and faveorite books. Tom Riddle, the usually selfish and greedy man, suddenly interested in the eccentric and always joyful zoology professor? He cursed himself for it, a good 5 months before talking to her for the first time. 

Now she is staying at his home in the country, a dark penthouse by the sea. To be specific, it is not as dark now, he found that she brought more light into it than any possible lamp. 

As dreamy as this may sound, but like in every married life, there's always small and petty arguments. Like now, her sitting in bed and reading, not giving him half an ounce of attention while he looked at her from the doorframe. 

He mentioned horcruxes and the sheer idea of immortality a few times, even on the day they met, but she simply laughed it off. Who would want to be soulles? It seemed absurd. 

But yesterday evening, when he explained that he wants to go through with his plan of doing so, she couldn't bare to give him more than a gulp and ignorance. He was being mean.

"Apologise, so we can spend at least the evening as a couple. It's cold to sleep without you in my arms." Tom meant it genuinely, but his tone was rough. He didn't understand her problem.

She simply kept on reading, like he didn't even exist. He groaned in annoyance and that did it. 

"I'm sorry, did my back damage your knife in any way? Do excuse me", he winced and didn't know if it was because of her closing her book shut loudly or her words. Probably the latter. 

"What do you mean?"

She exhaled in confusion. Did he actually not see the problem? 

"Tom. You outright told me that you want to split your soul from your body and divide it into 7 different parts. Oh and that you want to live forever. Do you not understand why I'm upset?"

"I'm going to be honest, no, I don't. I find you're being ridiculous, this is a marvelous discovery. "

"Well it is, which on the other hand doesn't mean you have to partake in it!" she says as she sits up straighter in the bed. 

He sees that and mirrors her reaction, standong up straight and putting his hands in the pockets of his pyjama pants. 

"Why not? It would help me be more focused on my work and goals and I wouldn't be occupied with unnecessary matters."

"Like me?" His wife didn't know if she regretted saying that, but it came out in the same second he ended his sentence.

Quiet.

"Don't do this. Of course not like you, you matter a huge deal. This would benefit me in every part of my life, I'd be the most powerful wozard that ever lived. There's been noone else more powerful than Death in the history of wizardry and it could be your husband, how are you not the least bit proud?"

"Proud!? You want me to be proud!? What else should I do, throw you a party and congratulate you on a life of pure damnation!?"

She was now standing approximately 1 horizontal man away from him, on a good way to become furious. 

"Damnation? I hope you mean admiration and being seen with respect, fear and devotion for the rest of time."

"Tommy?" She only called him that when she felt truly helpless or frustrated.

"Yes darling?"

Her voice went almost inaudible, "Where am I in that wonderful way of living you so dream of?"

"By my side." He was sure of that and knew he needed her in this. She'd be his queen in the whole thing.

She breaks into a series of scoffs, some distrustful and some humorous, she found the situation quite absurb. What were they even discussing? 

"I'll age! I'll age and be old and grey and wrinkly and youll still be thirty! It'll look ridiculous."

Was it embarrassing he hadn't thought of that? 

"There's plenty of spells to slow down aging." Stupid Riddle.

"Great Havens. If we put that aside, what about your soul? You'll be a shell of the man you truly are. How do you explain that?"

"What? Thats foolish, I'll be myself!"

"You'll be a soulless man! Only goal driven and shutting out everything else! We'll never again talk about life and the universe late at night, you'll never again appreciate me making you tea when you forget the time in your study and we'll never joke about the future and raising an army of baby wizards who we'll name after the imaginary friends we had as children. We'll never go to the city again and you'll never pick out a flower I adore and buy it behind my back to surprise me later although I'd always catch you and we'll never buy cheesy and ironic books for each other in that beautiful old book store we love. Now call me crazy and soft, but I happen to cherish these things."

It was hard to look him in the eyes during saying all that, but she needed to get her point across. She also despised herself for tearing up at this very moment, walking towards him with a pointed finger.

"Tommy, I swore to support and love you in everything you do, but- but taking the soul of the man I love from me-", she hesitated, wanting to stop her voice from breaking and breath from hitching.

He gulped. This was unfair.

"Don't do this."

"-taking that; now that's too much for me. I can't stand behind that."

"You're being cruel."

"I'm not the only one."

That stung, it stung them both at the same time. In the end, they were both just people. She was now standing very few inches infront of him, pointing at his chest, barely holding herself together. 

"You know what? Do it. I wont stop you or hold you back. That was never my goal."

"I don't understand. Forst you can't stand behind it then you say go ahead."

"If this makes you happy, what I truly doubt, you'll do it without me."

That made his dinner almost come up slightly, it was never an option. 

"You can't just leave now, you know I love you. Do you not love me anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?", he knew it spounded mean but he hoped to get the point across, he was genuinely wondering.

"Oh don't twist this. I'll always love you with every part of me, body, soul, mind and all, as long as I live, that's why I can't-

that's why I can't watch you do this..."

"So what are you going to do? Just leave? You know you can't do that." He didn't quite believe that she would. Was it cowardly to start a fight rather than comfort her or express his own feelings? He'd have to look into that.

She breathed in, deeper than ever before. It was important that she stays collected now.

"Fine. I'll leave when you do it. That way you wont miss me."

Tom Riddle never got dizzy, he was too aware of his surroundings for that. Yet, now he was holding  onto the doorframe next to him with such strength, that his knuckles turned paper white. He was also afraid to touch her, even breath in her direction, because she might fully disappear already.

"You can't...you can't be serious..." It was more of a whispered plea than a threat. 

She on the other hand, felt that she needed to touch him or else this stupid boat of too many emotions for both of them would sink to the bottom of the deepest point in the ocean. His cold cheeks warmed at the touch of her palms. In that very moment he also exhaled briefly, still finding deep-rooted comfort in her, even at this time. Her eyes filled with tears, to the brim this time and she ignored them, it was no time to sob now. Her right hand caressed his hair; like it was any other moment they shared before.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I really wanted us to get grey and wrinkly together."

to be continued...

[mosaickiwi]

For Two

Hello, content specifically catered to me. This might be the whole damn month.

Just an Angel that works at a BnB all alone with their stalker future spouse... :3c

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You started your morning a little later than usual that Saturday, grateful for the extra half hour of sleep as you gathered ingredients. Only one pot of coffee to brew, one breakfast to make, one room to turnover while the guest went about their day touring the city.

You couldn't believe it. 

Normally, the weekend was completely booked. This one was too, except there'd been not just one, but six no-shows yesterday. Almost every single room at the inn was empty despite being fully paid for. 

Right at the usual check-in time, a single guest had shown up. Dressed in all black, a whole head taller than you, eyes that looked as tired as you felt from rushing around all day, and only a small duffel bag slung over one shoulder, they didn't look like the type of tourist you usually had this time of year. But who were you to judge?

The refreshments you set out didn't go to waste, though. He went back for seconds and thirds as you showed them to their room… then around the house… then around the garden while constantly on the lookout for other guests pulling up in their rental cars.

Oddly, he seemed more interested in you than the city. Rather than attractions on the pier or night life, the conversation flowed towards a few hobbies you found in common. Before you knew it, the sun had long since set, and no other soul had arrived for check-ins. You carried on with him a while longer, ending the night in a good mood despite the strange, once in a lifetime occurrence.

It felt like talking with an old friend. You wondered if the chat over breakfast would be just as nice.

The coffee machine loudly beeped, disturbing your current task. You stopped and poured it all into a thermos, then set it in the small woven carrier you'd prepared with a mug, creamers, sugars, and a pair of neatly wrapped shortbread cookies. You quietly took it up the stairs to your sole guest's room to set it at the door.

Just as you approached, the door opened with messy black hair and lightly flushed cheeks in greeting. He was the smallest bit shorter without the boots. No piercings in this early in the morning, but even his pajamas were all black. The tiny ghosts on his pants were cute. 

The man's blue eyes came to life at the sight of you and he smiled. "Mornin'," they spoke in that soft, raspy voice you'd gotten acquainted with yesterday.

"Beat me to it. Good morning, Ren." You smiled back with ease. "Did you sleep well?"

"Perfect, actually." They yawned, eyeing the basket in your hands as they stretched. "All that f'me before 7am.? Fuck, y'might really be an angel." He paused and rubbed at his lower lip. "Sorry."

You held the basket out to him. "I heard nothing. No worries," you said. It was hard to tell if he was apologizing for cursing or flirting. Was he flirting? 

He took the carrier, but still stood in the doorway, drumming his fingers on the sides as if thinking of what to say. "Soo… how d'you usually do these cute little coffee baskets for two people?"

"Two?" You hurriedly racked your brain. You were pretty sure his reservation was for one. He did have the door code already. Maybe he let his companion in late last night?

Did you need to make more coffee? Or tea? Did they have dietary restrictions you didn't know about for breakfast?! 

Shit, shit, shit. 

You never got to greet them and get their name and if they were still sleeping it'd be rude to wake them up just to ask and you couldn't expect a five star review anyways at this point but this—

"Ah, I meant…" The man interrupted your silent panic with a surprisingly nervous tone. He shifted slightly, fingers tapping even louder. "If ya wanted t'join me. I mean, I'm the only one here so I thought y'wouldn't be too busy with breakfast."

Ohh. He was flirting. Your job be damned. 

"Breakfast would have to be a little late… but if you don't mind, okay."

Ren smiled a lot brighter this time. "Great. I'll get changed and meet you downstairs in a few, yeah?"

You wanted to tell them there was no need to change with how adorable his PJs were, but kept it to yourself. You couldn't tease them like that yet. "Sure thing."

[celesteleoves]

“BACK OFF AND LOOK AWAY.”

ೃ࿐ KATSUKI BAKUGOU X FEM!READER

summary: katsuki HATES when others attempt to ask you out on a date, unless they are himself.

warnings: jealously, protective katsuki, soft!reader, you’re pretty it’s hard for people not to stare! fluff.

a/n: i love me some jealously drabbles. TYSM FOR 300 FOLLOWERS 🤍

-

no matter how many years katsuki had known you for, he would never be able to get over the suffocating beauty you held, you yourself sometimes didn’t even understand it.

it was in katsukis nature to be protective of those he loved. he was known for his high guard he held around those who he was not fond of, often coming off as intimidating and standoffish. you on the other hand, meant way more to him than anyone else on the planet. (besides his mom, of course)

he simply just could not stand it when someone’s stare lingered on you for too long or a group of childish boys giggled too hard at the sight of you.

with katsukis angry, looming figure beside you, not many dared to come up to you in fear of people crushed to shreds by bakugou katsuki.

today had been different apparently. a boy, around katsukis height (maybe even shorter) had walked up to you at a cafe you and katsuki were frequent customers at.

you sat at your table alone, waiting patiently for your boyfriend who was a bit late to the cafe due to his mother wanting him to help clean up her kitchen, which he groaned about while on the phone with you.

your eyes were focused intently on your phone as you laughed quietly at a post mina had made. it was you and katsuki sitting in the U.A. dorms snuggly on the couch as she captioned it ‘grumpy stole my sunshine.’

your attention was swiftly brought away from your phone as a cough was heard from above you, looking up, you caught eyes with a boy who seemed to look nervous. his eyes were dark and he had a backwards hat on. basically, he looked like a fuckboy.

“hey! um, i was wondering if i could get your number.” he nervously scratched his neck as he turned around slightly. you furrowed your brows and followed his gaze, finding a group of boys sitting in a booth close by, phones out on display as they laughed.

you smiled, “i’m sorry but i’m actually waiting for someone.”

your tone was polite and endearing, hoping to not come off as rude or to embarrass the boy.

your boyfriend, who had been parking while this went on thought otherwise. he was ready to make a scene.

“come on, just let me get your number yeah? the person your waiting for isn’t worth it obviously if they aren’t here on time.” the boy had now leaned over you, practically climbing his way to sit beside you.

you looked at him like he had two heads and he immediately stiffened up.

the boys ears had turned red from embarrassment of being rejected by you – who sat uncomfortably in your seat.

“he is worth it, he’s just running late-” you had barely gotten your sentence out of your mouth when the boy was pulled away from you by his collar and a figure had casted a shadow over you.

“i’m fucking here, who’s this douchebag?” katsuki paused and raised a eyebrow. “let’s keep this civilized, yeah?”

katsuki turned the boy to face him with a scowl as the boy slowly realized you were in a relationship.

“shit, i didn’t realize.” the boy had pulled katsuki’s hand off of him and was starting to back up before katsuki took a step towards him.

“sure, back off and look away from my girlfriend. tell your little group that too.”

the boy nodded and jogged back to his friends that sat in their booth, jaws dropped.

“kats! i’m sorry i should’ve just toughened up like you told me too and rejected him more bluntly..” you sighed as you rethought the whole situation.

katsuki took a seat infront of you and let his expression become soft as he stared into your eyes.

“nah, don’t apologize, y/n. let’s just forget about this and talk about how good you look right now.” katsuki smirked at the end of his sentence as you blushed and laughed while reaching forward grabbing his rough, scarred hand that squeezed yours back tightly.

you knew you could always rely on katsuki.

-

a/n: heyy. it’s been a while, around like what? a month or so since i last posted :’) IVE BEEN SO BUSY WITH SPORTS, SCHOOL, ETC! i’m back though and will probably write on the weekends because why not? please send in requests for mha (cough cough, my hun bakugou and more!)