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#i had to do a LOT of heavy lifting to make the last dumb quirk science thing be feasible

titan-fodder · 2 years

Text

The Tiniest Notion - Reiner Braun x Reader

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Word Count: 22.6k

Warnings: stepcest (reader is a young stepmom (30) & Reiner (24) is her stepson), female-bodied reader, short-coded reader, hurt/comfort/smut, infidelity, mentioned past suicide attempt, depression & anxiety, therapy, a lot of nipple and breast play, induced lactation and adult nursing, explicit sexual content, Rei is strong enough to lift you, sneaking around, handjobs, fingering, vaginal sex, mommy kink, mentioned breeding kink, general softness, bathing, heavy conversation, nobody gets caught, ending is happy but not resolved

A/N: this fic upturned my life for several days, and now it is here. big thank you’s to @whats-her-quirk and @ghost-party for reading and editing and being generally wonderful, and an extra big thank you to @itsleese for putting up with all my questions about milk and breastfeeding in general. you are a saint. every woman is different and blah blah blah but i definitely felt better having your perspective.

anyway, everyone knows i adore reiner and just want him to be okay, and i, uh, really accessed that part of me while writing this fic or something. okay, enjoy~

If you’d asked Reiner when he was younger what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would have been able to give you a straight answer—a positive answer. When he was nine, he was going to be a pro football player with thousands of fans. When he was thirteen, he was going to be a rockstar with platinum albums and groupies across the world. When he was sixteen he was going to be a marine with countless medals and honors bestowed upon him.

He had dreams. Dumb as some of them may have been, they were still goals, ambitions. They were what kept him motivated.

Now, at twenty-four, all he wants is to be happy. That’s his new dream. One he isn’t sure will ever actually come true.

He’s taken meds, started healthy habits–meditates and journals and makes sure he isn’t putting utter shit in his body–and still, he just can’t seem to overcome this weight that’s been holding him down. It’s the weight that caused him to flunk his last semester of college, the weight that pushed his friends away, and ultimately, it’s the weight that landed him in the hospital after swallowing too many pills.

And, now he’s here.

All grown up with nothing to show for it—no degree, no job, living with his dad despite their complicated relationship. They really don’t know each other at all, not after the fifteen years Roland had spent as something of a myth to Reiner. Then, he reached out on Facebook, and started at least trying to care, and now, after a handful of birthday cards and strained meet-ups over the last few years, it turns out Roland is the one most equipped to deal with Reiner as he is now.

“I don’t recommend you go back to living alone,” he can remember the hospital psychiatrist telling him. “Not for a while at least. Do you have anyone close you can stay with?”

His first thought had naturally been his mother who he’d lived with up until college, but truth be told, now that she’s retired, she just doesn’t have the money to feed two mouths and help with his bills until he gets back on his feet. And, there’s no way he would ask any of the friends he neglected for the last couple years. Which left him with Roland. Leaves him with Roland.

And, of course, you–his new wife.

You are number four, if Reiner’s count is correct, the youngest so far, a whole six years older than himself and eighteen younger than his father.

He’s in no place to judge, and it’s not like Roland is the worst guy on the planet, but Reiner still can’t help but cringe a little. Mostly because you’re just… sweet. You’ve been so incredibly kind to him since he arrived at your doorstep, always making sure he’s doing okay, that he’s had enough to eat at dinner, that he never leaves without some kind of jacket or flannel whenever it’s chilly outside.

And because of this, Reiner has taken a shine to you, perks up just a little bit when he’s around you. Some people (his therapist) might even say he’s forming an attachment.

“So, everyone is getting along okay at home?” Dr. Ral asks, gently pressing her pen to her clipboard where she sits across from him.

Reiner shrugs against the couch cushions he’s pressed himself into. “Yeah, no arguments or anything.”

“Are you and Roland communicating well then?”

He makes a face at the question, a little grimace as he thinks about the awkward meals the two share every morning when Roland first wakes up and Reiner still hasn’t gone to bed: just the two of them sitting in silence save for the occasional comment about an athlete or the weather.

“We’re not pouring our hearts out to each other or anything, but, like, we talk sometimes, I guess.”

Dr. Ral keeps that soft expression on her face, totally impassive, but Reiner bets she wishes she could sigh and say something about men being emotionally stunted. While Roland might be, Reiner has been wearing his heart on his sleeve for the better part of his life, so he wouldn’t call himself stunted at all. He’s just fucking incapable of dealing with how he feels, hence trying to get rid of those feelings altogether.

“Okay, and what about your stepmom? Are you still talking to her?”

For a moment, all he does is suck on the inside of his cheek. Then, “Some.”

“And, what do you talk about?”

Reiner looks down at his hands as he recalls the conversation he had with you before leaving for this appointment–nothing special, just you getting to pet a couple of dogs on your morning walk around the neighborhood. He likes dogs (more than he likes most people if he’s being honest), but the most interesting part of the story was the way you smiled thinking about them. You had Reiner’s rapt attention.

It’s a potential problem but one he’s not looking to deal with any time soon. He has enough shit on his plate as it is. It’s not like he has a crush or anything. He just likes the way you look when your eyes light up and the way your soft voice sounds when you wake him up at three in the afternoon after he’s slept the day away once again. It’s a comfort thing. You’re comforting to him.

“She saw some dogs when she went walking this morning, and then I told her about when I used to run track in high school.”

“Good,” Dr. Ral nods. “That’s good. I’m glad you two can engage comfortably. I was afraid that might be difficult considering who she is to you and how new she is in your life.”

“I mean…” He lets his eyes wander as he mulls it over, supposes it was a valid fear, but, “I probably have more in common with her than I do with my dad since we’re, like, close in age and all.”

“That’s very true. It may be hard for you to see her as a maternal figure, but at the very least, maybe she can be your friend.”

Reiner forces a tight-lipped smile and nods, not really knowing what else to say on the matter. Luckily, the hour session is coming to an end, so after making sure he’s still free for his appointment next week, Dr. Ral lets him leave.

He drives back to the house listening to the playlist he’s had on repeat basically since getting out of the hospital–a feel good mix that has all of his favorite songs on it, songs that make him bob his head and even sing along on the few days he actually has the energy to do so.

It’s a quarter past three when he gets home meaning Roland won’t be around for another few hours. Reiner makes a beeline for the fridge, having not eaten anything all day, and just like every Wednesday, he finds a sandwich inside a ziplock bag, his name scribbled on the plastic.

It’s a little routine you started for his sake. You know that he usually wakes up with barely enough time to shower, get dressed, and make the drive to the office (today being a slight anomaly), so you always have a sandwich waiting for him when he gets back.

And, that’s the shit he’s talking about. That’s what has him attached. This kindness from you he doesn’t deserve.

But, he still grabs the sandwich and a glass of tea, then shuffles out to the living room where you’re folding clothes on the couch, only half paying attention to the silly medical drama you watch nearly every day.

He mumbles his appreciation as he sits in the recliner, and you look up from the t-shirt you’re folding and flash a smile.

“Of course,” you tell him just like you do whenever he thanks you for anything you do for him. “I splurged and picked up some deli turkey earlier today, so it should be a nice little treat.”

It is noticeably fresher than usual—not that the sandwiches you make him are ever bad by any means. Even if they were, Reiner would probably still eat them simply because you prepared them, but that’s irrelevant.

“You went shopping today?”

His attempts at small talk are always dismal at best, but you humor him anyway, picking up a towel from your pile and folding it in half one way, then another, then tucking one end under your chin to make the last two creases.

“Mhmm. Not a big trip. Just what was on the list, stuff we were running out of.”

Reiner hums and turns his attention to the TV, watching vaguely familiar characters perform surgery and whine about their love lives. It’s sappy shit, but you obviously like it, so he doesn’t mind it being on.

“Did your appointment go okay?” you speak up again.

Reiner starts to chew a little faster so that he can answer, “Yeah,” but he doesn’t offer anything else and you don’t pry him for more.

He appreciates that. Appreciates being asked—checked on, really—but not pressured. He’s pretty sure you’re really wondering if there’s anything else he needs to talk about, making sure he knows that door is open for him if he ever decides he wants to take it, but so far Reiner has kept himself from crossing that threshold.

You shouldn’t worry about him the way you do. He’s glad that you care, but he isn’t your burden to bear.

The two of you sit in silence for several minutes, watching the drama and folding clothes. He stares pointedly at the screen when he sees you grab a couple pair of panties from the basket, quickly tucking them under a neat stack of shirts.

Reiner is in your space, he thinks, interrupting a task so mundane yet ritualistic, that you should be able to perform without worry, but he’s here and—

He hurries to finish his sandwich, but when he gets up to leave, you stop and look at him.

“You don’t have to go. I was just gonna finish this episode, and then you can pick a movie or something.” He blinks at you, a little confused, and then you add, “I hate you staying cooped up in your room all the time,” and it makes sense why you want him to stick around.

Try to off yourself one time and suddenly no one’s comfortable with you being by yourself. Imagine that.

“Oh, um…”

“There’s maybe ten minutes left, and while I’m putting these up, you can decide on something, yeah?”

“I, uh… Yeah, sure…”

He still gets up to throw away his napkin and refill his tea but returns, finishing out the episode and taking the remote from you when you hand it to him. You make a few trips to the bedroom you share with Roland, arms full of clothes every time, and Reiner just clicks through the different lists on Netflix until settling on Starship Troopers which has been known to make him crack a smile here and there. Plus, all the action should keep his attention well enough.

When you take your place on the couch again, you tuck your legs up underneath you, leaning on the armrest as you mumble, “Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve watched this.”

He glances over at the way you’re curled, humming in acknowledgement as he does his best to ignore the way your thighs look pressed tightly together, outlined in leggings that cut off mid-calf so that he has view of cute, bony ankles poking out over slipper socks. Even worse is the way your arms are framing your chest. You’re not wearing a revealing top or anything, just a thin little t-shirt, but this reposed position has your tits all pushed up, and Reiner has to swallow and look back at the TV screen.

He used to flirt with girls similar to you back in college–his first couple semesters anyway, before it all went to shit–and it’s strange to think that if one were to knock a couple years off the gap between the two of you, he could have easily been picking you up instead of Stacey and Maggie and Ann and so on.

Is it strange for you too, or does it not even cross your mind? It shouldn’t be crossing Reiner’s, that’s for sure, but… Sweet. And, cute. And, soft. He imagines you’re so, so soft.

“I know you just ate, but are you okay with Thai later?”

Reiner tears himself from his thoughts and clears his throat. “Whatever you and Roland want I’m fine with.”

“Mm,” you nod. “Been cleaning and running errands all day, and I just do not feel like cooking.”

“I don’t blame you.” He tries for a small smile, but it probably just comes off as pained.

Still, it makes you grin back at him, worn out and relieved, as if you thought he might demand a home-cooked meal from you or something.

“Alright, I’ll text your dad and order it in a couple hours. Just…” you let out a quiet laugh and rest your cheek in your hand, “You might have to wake me up.”

“If you’re tired, I can let you nap,” Reiner is quick to tell you, not because he wants to be away from you. He just doesn’t want to be in the way of your routine.

“No, no, I sleep better with the TV on anyway. Just… Just stay and watch the movie. Relax, sweetie.”

Something warm and soothing licks at the base of his spine at those words, that name. It’s stupid because you don’t mean anything by it, but it sounds fond, and that is his weakness right now. Just someone being fond of him. You being–

He stays quiet, sitting very still for about ten minutes until he chances one more glance over at you to find your eyes shut and lips parted as you breathe too deeply to be awake. He stares, admires the way your eyelashes fan over your cheeks, the subtle twitches of your face and hand, and then he decides that’s enough and gets up, grabbing the throw blanket that hangs off the back of the couch and laying it over you as gently as he can. It doesn’t wake you which he’s grateful for, one because you obviously need a bit of rest, and two, it’s less likely you’ll catch him looking at you every ten seconds if you’re asleep. So, this is how he spends the rest of the movie. Watching his favorite scenes only to turn back to you and fixate on the way the shoulder you’re not laying on rises and falls in time with each breath and how the wind of the fan is making little flyaway hairs dance around your face. You only wake up toward the end of the movie’s climax, rubbing sleepy eyes then checking the time on your phone. It isn’t until you snuggle a little deeper under the blanket that you ask, “Did you cover me up?”

Reiner just motions to the spinning blades above and says, “Didn’t want you to get cold.”

You tap away on your phone for a bit, about dinner, Reiner guesses, considering a few minutes later you’re calling the Thai place in the nearby shopping strip, placing orders you know by heart now. Reiner gets the same curry dish every time you order in from there, only this time he has the pleasure of listening to you try to pronounce everything over the phone, stuttering little um’s and sorry’s in between until you finally tell them you’ll be paying in cash once it arrives.

It gets to the house a few minutes before Roland does, and the three of you spend about half an hour eating while listening to the man decompress. Restaurant work is hard–Reiner remembers working at one for a couple years in high school–but damn, some of the shit his dad has to put up with is unreal. That said, Reiner definitely wouldn’t want to work under him. Apparently, it had been Roland’s dream to open up one of his own for as long as he can remember, but… things aren’t quite as bright and shiny as he wanted them to be.

“–and if that wasn’t bad enough, fucking Jacob put in the damn liquor order wrong, so we’re missing four of our usual kegs.”

“Well, that’s not gonna work,” you comment. “Will you be able to get more in time for this weekend?”

Roland grunts as he sits back, his chair creaking underneath him as he does. “Yeah, but they’ll be more expensive that way.”

“Still make more money with them than without, I assume.”

“You’re right about that, but anyway,” he pats his stomach before pushing himself from the table and asking, “Reiner, you mind doin’ the dishes tonight?”

“Oh, no he doesn’t have to–” you try.

Reiner cuts you off with a nod, though, “Sure,” then glances at you. “You’ve done enough today. I can handle it.”

You look like you want to argue, but Roland puts a hand on the back of your neck before you can say anything else. “Need to shower to get the day’s grime off me, but once I’m done, you wanna catch up on a few episodes of Yellowstone?”

“Of course, love.”

Reiner’s stomach feels squirmy, and it’s not from the Thai. He shoves that feeling down as deep as possible, gathers everyone’s plates, then takes them to the sink to get started on rinsing them and loading the dishwasher as the two of you retreat to the bedroom.

Another long night he’ll spend upstairs.

Another long night alone with his thoughts.

He recognizes that they’re spiraling again. Just not in the way they used to.

~ ~ ~

You were late to marry. Or, you felt like you were.

As you watched friends from high school get engaged one after another, the same happening during and after college, you stayed stagnant. It was strange considering you were usually who they would go to for advice back in those days–despite your record of failed relationships, they still seemed to trust your judgment.

Emotionally intelligent, they’d call you. Sympathetic yet unbiased. You picked your girlfriends up after bad dates and, in a couple cases, drove cities over to rescue them from big fights with shitty partners.

They relied on you. And, you were happy to help and give your perspective, but… it’s not like you had a ton of experience in the area yourself.

A mixture of being focused on your studies as well as a slew of personal issues, you just couldn’t ever seem to hold a man down. They gave up. You were too distant, too guarded.

And then, at twenty-nine, you met Roland Braun in his newly opened restaurant. You went frequently enough to secure your own table, usually around lunchtime. You would eat while going over your graduate material, and you don’t know if it was because he appreciated your regular patronage or enjoyed the short conversations you’d have with him, but somehow over the course of a few months, he formed an interest in you.

You didn’t mind. Much older than you, he seemed stable–safe. You were more than happy to go on a date with him when he asked, and you found that despite there being an obvious gap in age and therefore life experience, Roland was still charming.

You knew his history–the first wife he left and the two to follow in her wake, but there was no denying his attraction to you, very flattering to say the least. He had–has–his own appeal. Confidence as well as a certain wisdom you still lack, and though he’s not the type you’d usually go for physically, there’s something nice about the lines around his eyes and the gray that grows in with his stubble. Plus, while he’s brawny, he isn’t entirely fit–decades of experimenting and eating his own food. It makes him nice to cuddle with.

Not to mention, he’s a pretty decent fuck. Doesn’t have the energy or libido that younger men do, but he does care about your pleasure which is a pretty big checkmark in your book.

Six months into your marriage, and there’s still a bit of a wall between the two of you–a disconnect–but it’s to be expected considering you dated for less than a year before tying the knot.

You’re very thankful to have found him, and though you’re not quite sure if you love him, you do have a deep affection for him. Besides, it’s not his fault; you just have some hangups.

The conversation regarding Reiner had come as a bit of a shock. You knew about Roland’s son, that their relationship was strained, but your husband was extremely concerned about him when he got news of the suicide attempt (as he should have been), and that care multiplied tenfold when Reiner actually reached out to him personally asking for a place to say.

“I haven’t been able to be there for him his whole life,” he had told you, “... and I’d really like to start now. If you’re okay with it.”

He made it seem like you had the final say, but it was a request you couldn’t turn down even if it did have the potential to put a strain on the fresh marriage. How could anyone ever say no to something like that?

“Of course, Roland. Of course he can come stay.”

And, then he’d arrived a few days later, packed bags and sad eyes, and you knew you’d responded to your husband the right way. You knew you wanted to help Reiner in any way you could.

Living with him even now, two months after he first stepped foot in the house, is something you’re still getting used to. It’s a little jarring having him here, mostly because it’s a constant reminder of your age. You’re the same generation as Reiner, able to share pop culture references, familiar with the music each of you listen to and shows you both grew up watching. You can remember a few things he can’t, but mostly the two of you are able to relate to each other. Meanwhile, poor Roland is left out of the loop, and the fact that he wasn’t present for Reiner’s childhood and adolescence only makes it harder for him.

There’s also one more thing you have in common with your new stepson–and God, isn’t that weird to say?--and it’s that you have been very close to where he is now. Family expectations paired with college pressure and a simple lack of certain chemicals in your brain landed you in a hospital ward once upon a time. The only difference was that you were placed there as a preventative measure rather than after a failed attempt.

You had been so close at one point, though. Fuck, you’d been so close.

It isn’t something you talk about. Roland doesn’t even know about it, and you have no plans of telling him.

But, sometimes… sometimes when Reiner trudges downstairs from another sleepless night or returns home after a therapy appointment with puffy eyes, you have the urge to sit him down and open up. Let him know that he is not alone. That he can talk to you if he ever needs to. No judgment. No pity. Just understanding.

You want to be there for him. You want to help get rid of those dark circles and chronic fatigue. You want to lift his shoulders instead of letting them sag in defeat. But, he has to be the one to make the first move. You refuse to overstep. You refuse to make him uncomfortable.

These are the thoughts running through your mind as you stand at the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. It’s nearly two in the afternoon, but Reiner should be getting up soon, and you know he likes to start his day with caffeine whenever he can (you also know his psychiatrist has likely warned him that it’s not good for his anxiety, but you can be an enabler in this one instance).

You only have a few things on your to-do list today, and you already worked on your thesis for the time you allotted for it, so that’s out of the way. Now, you just need to run and pick up a gift for a friend’s baby shower that’s coming up, then get started on dinner.

Reiner ends up padding downstairs just as you’re grabbing your purse to leave, and he stops on the bottom step, looking at you in question. Blond hair is sticking up haphazardly, and he has a few days worth of stubble casting a light shadow on his jaw. Just on the border of rugged and unkempt–a look only few can pull off, not that Reiner is really trying.

“Goin’ out?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah, I need to run to Buy Buy Baby. Coffee’s ready, though.”

“Thanks.” He rubs his eyes for a second, then, to your surprise, adds, “Mind if I come with you?”

You’re stunned that he wants to, at a complete loss for words because why…

Apparently, he can read your expression because he explains, “Kinda wanna get out of the house today, but if you’d rather go alone–”

“No, no, you can definitely come! I can wait for you to wake up a little more if you need.”

He waves you off then makes his way into the kitchen, sniffing the air like the mere smell of coffee will do the job.

“I can just take a thermos, but I probably need to hop in the shower real quick.”

“That’s totally fine. Take your time.”

He makes quick work of pouring his coffee into an insulated cup, leaving it on the counter so that he can just grab it and go, then disappears back upstairs. Ten minutes later, he’s standing in front of you again, fully dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a plaid button-down rolled up to his elbows and left open. A dark beanie is pressing still-damp hair to his forehead, and as he clasps a smart watch around his wrist, you have the stray thought that this is the type of guy you used to go for. This is what you used to find attractive, still kinda do, but the notion is quickly shaken from your head because it’s too disturbing considering this is Reiner.

“Ready?” he asks after retrieving his coffee, and you nod.

The car ride isn’t long, and it’s mostly spent in silence save for your playlist quietly filtering through the speakers. Reiner gently bobs his head to each of the songs which is satisfying in an odd way, and you restrain yourself from humming or singing along so that he can enjoy the music.

When you step into the store, his eyes go wide, and you have to stifle a laugh.

“This place is like a damn Walmart, what the hell?”

“Baby stuff will stay high in demand s’long as people keep makin’ ‘em,” you tell him.

“True. What are we here for exactly?” he questions, and then, as if it’s only just occurred to him, he suddenly asks, “Wait, are you–”

“Jesus Christ, no,” you cringe with a vehement shake of your head.

“Oh, then why…”

“My friend is having a baby shower next week. Need to get her a gift.”

“Ah, okay.”

“You sound relieved,” you snicker as you grab a handbasket.

Reiner makes a noncommittal noise, tells you, “Just surprised for a second. Thought the old bastard knocked you up. Didn’t know how to handle it.”

You laugh as you start toward the many aisles, passing baby room displays and some of the larger toys to get to the clothes.

“I don’t see that happening,” you tell him, and when he glances at you curiously, you segue away from the topic of Roland getting you pregnant because he really shouldn’t be thinking about that. “Also, your dad’s not an old bastard.”

Shrugging, Reiner cracks a smile–the rare kind where his teeth show–then jokes, “Okay, maybe not a bastard, but he is old.”

“He’s not–” you clear your throat for a moment, voice dropping in very slight embarrassment, “--he’s not that old.”

The quiet, “Mm,” of a response sounds strangely smug, but that can’t be right. That would make it seem like Reiner is teasing you, and that is… unlike him. You wouldn’t mind if he was, even if your face is a little warm, but it’s out of character for him, too relaxed.

Maybe getting out of the house is already doing him some good, though. Lifting his spirits a bit.

“Anyway,” you press on with a click of your tongue. “I’m looking for cute baby clothes and diapers. Maybe some of those bottles that keep air bubbles from forming.”

“They make those?”

“They make so much shit for babies now, it’s unreal,” you snort.

The two of you make some small talk as you walk around the store. You tell him a little about the friend whose shower you’re going to, and he tells you about the one time he ever babysat, or really helped babysit–an ex-girlfriend’s baby sister.

“It was honestly a fucking nightmare. Just… noisy and kinda gross…”

“Yeah, I am not a huge fan myself.”

You grab a couple little onesies then find the section full of pacifiers and bottles and nursing covers. Reiner seems quizzical of almost all of it, maybe even a little fascinated, but you don’t comment on it, figure he’s probably never even been in a store like this.

The specific bottles you’re looking for are easy enough to locate, and you take a two-pack from the shelf, drop them in your basket, then walk back over to Reiner who has his head tilted to the side as he examines a medium sized box.

You recognize the product only when you peer around him, eyes falling on two clear cups connected to what you know to be electric pumps.

Reiner doesn’t look at you but clearly senses your presence because he speaks up like he knows you’re there beside him. “These look like they hurt.”

“From what I’ve heard, pumping isn’t exactly enjoyable,” you tell him, recalling the stories your mother has told you about all the discomfort that comes along with breastfeeding in general.

“Then why do women do it?”

You shrug. “Some doctors say it helps babies’ development better than formula does, but I don’t know about that. There’s also, like, the bonding nature of it, though. Hormones and skin on skin. Forms a better emotional connection between mother and child. Supposedly.”

“That’s… interesting,” Reiner says, a somewhat odd reaction, you think.

He puts the box back on the shelf then looks at you and asks, “Okay, ready to go?”

“Lemme grab a pack of diapers, and I will be.”

Once you have everything, you check out, and soon you’re back in the car on your way home. For some reason you’re not surprised when Reiner pipes up over the music to ask the same personal question you’ve been asked so many times before: “How come you never had kids?”

Most of the time, you get a little snippy with whoever is prodding into your life in such a way, but you suppose it’s natural to be curious about after being in a baby store with you.

Still, you feel the need to remind him, “I could still have them if I wanted. I’m only thirty,” and Reiner chuckles.

“I am all too aware of that fact.”

“But no, uh, I just never wanted any. I didn’t have the same urge a lot of women do, and honestly, I never thought I’d be a good mom.”

Reiner frowns. “Why’s that?”

“Just don’t think I have that maternal nature that comes naturally to others. I care about other people and their well-being, but… I don’t think I have the right head to be a parent.”

“I’d say you’re dead fucking wrong,” he tells you, and the assuredness in his voice makes you glance over at him in something close to alarm. Reiner is staring at you, then breaks line of sight and sighs, “You’ve been taking care of me since day one. I dropped in out of nowhere, and you just… I just think you’re wrong about not having the instinct. Not saying you should, like, have kids—not wanting them is valid—but… you’d be a good mom. I guess you are a good mom technically.”

It is a very sweet sentiment, actually makes your throat tighten up a bit, but you think the story might be a little different had Reiner come into your life at a younger age.

“I’m… glad you think so,” you’re slow to say, touched by the thought but also a little befuddled at the idea that he does see you as somewhat of a mother figure. “I just want you to be comfortable with us.”

“I am mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Like, aside from feeling like a burden twenty-four-seven, but that’s not your fault. Or, Roland’s.”

“You are not a burden,” you almost yell, but even as you say it, you know there’s no way to convince him because you remember feeling the exact same way. Useless, taking up space, pulling others down with you, but the reality has always been that people want to help. It took you a while to catch on, but that had always been the truth. And, it’s the truth now as you pull into the driveway.

“Reiner, look at me,” you command after too long of a silence, and he very slowly raises amber eyes to meet yours. “I promise, you’re not ruining anything by being here. We’re happy to have you and happy to help you get back where you need to be.” His mouth twists as he starts to chew on the side of his lip, obviously unsure of how to respond, so you just continue. “Brains are weird, and sometimes they don’t work the way they should, but that doesn’t make you useless or less human. It just means… sometimes you need help. And, that’s okay. You can ask for help.”

He nods, looking a little dazed now as if his mind is getting away from him, but you think you got your point across well enough because he forces his lips into an almost-smile and utters a barely audible, “Thanks.”

“Just remember that. On the bad days, remember we’re here. I’m here.”

You turn the car off and reach into the back to grab the shopping bags, and the two of you head inside, the conversation having come to a close. Reiner heads upstairs, and you start on dinner just like you’d planned, nothing fancy, just turkey spaghetti. At half past six, Roland gets home, and the three of you eat in front of the TV so that he can watch his favorite crime show.

Afterwards, you gather dishes and take them to the sink, scrubbing sauce and food particles from each before loading them in the dishwasher. The counter still needs to be wiped down, but as you turn to the separate set of drawers and cabinets to get a fresh rag, you find Reiner leaning against them.

“Dinner was good,” he says, then, “I’m glad I went with you today. It felt good going somewhere that wasn’t a doctor’s office.”

You can feel your face soften, have the urge to grab his hand or hug him or something, but you control yourself.

“Sweetie, you can run errands with me anytime you want.”

Reiner’s cheeks turn a little pink at that, and it takes you a second to figure out why, but then you feel your own face heat and stumble over a clumsy apology, “I didn’t mean to–just a habit I picked up in college, I usually don’t even realize–”

“It’s okay–”

“The names just sorta slip out. I’m not trying to be condescending or anything–”

“It’s not condescending,” he’s quick to correct, then, “... It’s kinda comforting, honestly. Just catches me off guard, is all.”

You stop and take a breath, relieved you didn’t offend him but still embarrassed for it happening in the first place. It started in college, all your silly little girlfriends calling everyone ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’ and ‘love’, and it just stuck with you, and anyway, it seems like a natural name to call your son, but maybe not your twenty-four year old son who’s staring at you a little too closely now.

“Okay, I will…” You’re wringing your hands now, unable to look him in the eye, but, “I will keep that in mind.”

He nods, still not blinking, and a tingly feeling settles in your spine, one you can’t tell if you like or not.

“Um, anyway, yeah, thanks for letting me… come with you… uh…”

“Like I said, any time. I know what it’s like just… needing something to do. Sometimes just leaving the house feels like being productive, so.”

“Yeah, exactly. It felt like I didn’t just do nothing all day.”

The cop show must end because Roland comes walking into the kitchen then which signals the end of the awkward chat, Reiner dismissing himself to his room while you follow your husband into yours.

Not a bad day all things considered. It was nice spending time with Reiner, getting to know him more and learning how to better help him. You think you’re getting an idea of what he responds to best, and as you settle into bed that night, a very small plan forms in your brain about what else you can do for him.

~ ~ ~

It starts off very simple. Reiner finds a note taped to the refrigerator asking him to dust the fans and high shelves in the house. He does without question, and when you get home from being out and about, you gift him a sugary, “Thank you, sweetie,” that he’s quickly grown to like too much.

A couple days pass and then, as you’re working on something for your classes, you ask him, “Could you do me a big favor and run to the store to get an onion? I need it for dinner tonight and completely blanked.”

So, he does, and you thank him, then ask him to do something else the next day and the next day and the next. They’re all very small tasks–household chores, running short errands. It’s not much, and he knows that you’re doing it on purpose, but it gets him moving, gives him something to do, a very small goal. And, when he reaches it, you reward him with basic appreciation that should not make Reiner feel the way it does.

But, it does make him feel. Makes his head go a little fuzzy, warmth pooling in his gut.

For a while, Reiner convinces himself it’s nothing or maybe some distant cousin of anxiety. That would account for the fluttery sensation in his stomach, right? Then, after an accidental touch while passing in the kitchen–nothing obvious or provocative, just your body grazing against him as you slide past to get to the stove–Reiner realizes it’s not nothing, and it’s not anxiety. It’s that attachment he had been so quick to form, and it’s morphing into something else.

His brain is wired against him. Now, instead of all of his intrusive thoughts being about putting a fucking gun in his mouth, they’re about what it might feel like to have your arms around him or his around you, his nose pressed into your neck, tracing collarbones with lips and—

It’s gross. He shouldn’t be thinking these things. You’ve been nothing but kind to him, and all Reiner can do in return is complete all the little to-dos that you give him and fantasize about how soft your skin might feel against his.

The best course of action is to distract himself somehow. At first he just binge-watches some TV shows in an attempt to numb his brain, but then he takes inspiration from you and starts assigning himself daily tasks.

Reiner creates a new schedule out in his journal, making sure to leave himself ample downtime since he gets burnt out so much quicker these days. He plots it around his current sleep schedule with the intention of slowly making adjustments to get his circadian rhythm back on track, but right now he’s most comfortable at night, and his therapist told him to prioritize himself, though she still makes sure he is getting up and partaking in human interaction when he can.

His days start around two, and the first item on his list is some stretching, then a small breakfast that sometimes consists of lunch foods instead. Therapy if he has it, a break afterward to recuperate–either a nap, TV, or some calming video games. Then, he ventures downstairs to maybe (hopefully) spend time or run errands with you. Sometimes he even helps with dinner. Roland will get home around the time, and all of you eat together and usually watch something, and Reiner spends most of that time trying not to glance at the two of you in an attempt to keep that ugly feeling from blossoming in his stomach–a newer development but… familiar.

He experienced the same feeling when two of his friends got together despite Reiner having a crush on one of them for a few months, but he got over that just like he’ll get over this.

You’re making it extremely difficult, though–not that you’re meaning to, of course. It’s just the way you take care of him and the subtle ways you’re helping him, a little unsure when you tell him one day, “I don’t mean for this to come off as condescending–”

You’re always so worried about that, and Reiner doesn’t understand entirely, but he assumes it might be because of the way you’re only a few years older than him yet in a parental position.

“—but I’ve seen the way you’ve been pushing yourself more, and I’m… I’m proud of you. I know it’s hard. My old psychiatrist once told me that my antidepressants would only do so much in terms of getting better and half the battle is actually wanting to get better.”

And, that opens up the floodgates.

Alone in the house one afternoon, the two of you sit on the couch just a little closer than normal, and Reiner pries, “You were on antidepressants at one point?”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, a lot more common these days considering how shit the world is, but you’re so… he wouldn’t say bubbly, but you’re light, content, and that’s way more than he can say for himself.

You nod, “Not just at one point. I’ve been put on them a couple times in the last few years, and then once I think I can handle things on my own again, I get weaned off them.” You look at him very seriously and add, “But, a lot of people stay on them indefinitely, and that’s also okay. Mood stabilizers are… pretty fucking great.”

“Is that possible? To even get to the point of thinking you can do it on your own?”

You sigh, sinking back into the cushions, and it causes your arm to brush against Reiner’s.

“Sometimes. Like I said, my psychiatrist told me you have to want to, but that’s a fight all on its own. Eventually, that sadness or numbness you get so used to feeling starts feeling safe. Like, you can guard yourself with it.”

Reiner’s eyes widen, your words hitting him straight in the chest because yes. Yes, absolutely, it feels so much safer than pulling himself out of that darkness. The fear of failure is just too strong to wrestle sometimes.

“But, life will keep going on with or without you, and I think, in my case, I got more scared of being left behind. The gap between semesters in college just kept widening–all my friends graduated and settled into their careers and families, and I just felt like there was no way I would catch up, and that started to motivate me more.”

That makes sense. Reiner is all too aware of his friends who graduated while he was struggling, all the people he still hasn’t congratulated due to his bitterness.

The world carried on as he stagnated, and it hurt. It hurt to watch them help as much as they could until they had no choice but to focus on themselves, their own studies and goals. He couldn’t blame them, but it added fuel to the fucking dumpster fire that was his life at the time, and for that, there’s a small part of him that remains a little upset about it.

If they had just stayed a little longer, would that have helped? Would he have been able to hold out long enough to join them in walking across that stage?

Dr. Ral had offered one of those sympathetic smiles when he’d brought it up in therapy a while back, voice level when she’d told him, “I think it was a long time coming. Based on what you’ve told me about your childhood and school history, I think it was a matter of time before you buckled, and that’s okay. You’ve probably been showing signs of depression since grade school, but it’s hard to diagnose at a young age, and it only gets harder with the onset of puberty. The fact that you held out for as long as you did is impressive, Reiner. You’ve been strong for so long.”

That was one of the sessions that resulted in him coming home with a red nose and swollen eyes, the kind that led you to cook his favorite meal without saying anything about it.

Now, he sits next to you, slumping forward with his chin resting in the palms of his hands as he stares blankly at the black TV screen.

“You think I’ll ever get motivated like you did?” he mumbles, and when your hand settles right between his shoulder blades, Reiner feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“I think you’re well on your way. I’ve seen you carrying around your notebook. It has lists in there, yeah? Schedules and reminders?”

He nods, turning just enough to look at you, and his mouth pulls up on one side at the sight of you smiling softly at him.

“Got the idea from you. Leaving me those little chores helped get me started… helped a lot.”

“I thought they might,” you tell him with a little twinkle in your eyes.

Reiner wants so much to reach over and cup your cheek because he is so, so grateful you came into his life when you did. He understands the kindness now. He understands why you’ve been looking after him the way you have, and it’s making his throat a little tight.

Then, in a strained voice, he tells you just that, how much he appreciates you, eyes beginning to sting, and it seems he passes his emotion onto you. Suddenly, you’re the one with misty eyes, swallowing thickly and looking away before basically whispering, “Kindred spirits or whatever.”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing out a laugh. “Something like that.”

Reiner isn’t sure who initiates it that night, but someone is hugging someone, and then you’re leaning back into the couch’s throw pillows, and he’s leaning with you, legs stretched out, hands tucked under the small of your back. You guide his head so that it’s just pillowed enough on the bottom swell of your breast but not buried in them, and he gets it, the hesitance and censorship (for lack of a better word), but fuck, being this close and this vulnerable, Reiner wants–he wants–

But, he doesn’t move, just reaches for the remote and turns on the doctor show he’s been watching even without you.

At some point, maybe halfway through the episode, you start carding a hand through his hair. Reiner thinks it seems natural, like an impulse for you. It threatens to put him to sleep, but he knows Roland will be getting home soon, and he’ll need to move before that happens.

Just a little longer, though. He wants a little more time like this, lying on top of you, your scent dancing in his nose, supple skin as close as can be yet too far away. He’d be lying if he said his mouth wasn’t watering some, those intrusive thoughts running wild in his brain, but this time Reiner doesn’t bother trying to block them out.

Wanna snuggle deeper, wanna kiss her stomach, lift the shirt, leave a mark, bite, lick, suck–then the mental image of his lips wrapped around your nipple, tugging it into his mouth, fingers digging into your plushness and massaging. He wants to taste you, wants lap at you, drool and slurp and suckle–

Nurse, he realizes with a deep inhale, and it’s that epiphany that makes him sit back up. He doesn’t just want you to care for him, he wants you to nurture him, wants you to nurse him like a god damn–fuck, it’s weird. It’s–it’s–

Reiner thinks back to the conversation in the baby store when he was holding the breast pump. That’s probably where it all started. Helps development but also helps the bond between mother and child. Is that it? Does he want the emotional bond? Is it some primal part of his brain wanting to be fed in the most basic, human way?

Or, is he just horny?

It’s very likely the latter, but… he can’t help but think about the way it would make him feel—safe. Smothered in the best of ways.

Reiner knows he should make his exit upstairs, half hard in his jeans, so he feigns drowsiness and thanks you for listening, talking, and telling your story (or part of it, he guesses), then tells you he’ll be down for dinner in a bit.

“I should get started on that,” you nod, lazily pushing yourself from the couch, and fuck, shit, he’s zeroed in on your tits again, lips parting, hand flexing at his side until he swiftly turns and jogs upstairs before you can notice how his cock is straining against the zipper of his pants.

Okay, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, just stop thinking. Forget about it. It’s weird, why are you so fucking weird, Reiner, the fuck is actually wrong with you? She’s your stepmom. She’s married to your literal father–

That evening after dinner, Reiner overhears you and Roland in the bedroom, the creaking of a bedframe and squeaking of springs. Every once in a while, he can make out the sound of a muffled, high-pitched moan, and no matter how hard he tries, all Reiner can think about is how desperate he is for you to make those noises for him.

Stepmom or not, he wants you. He isn’t sure how exactly, but the desire is there, and it’s burning him up.

~ ~ ~

You end up picking up a part time job to help out a bit–nothing particularly demanding, just a few hours spent tutoring at the local community college every other week day. Roland insists it’s not necessary, that the restaurant is bringing in enough money, and he’s fine with supporting you and his son, but it really just comes down to wanting to pay a bill or two on your own, be a little more independent.

When you and Roland were dating, he told you up front that he wanted something of a housewife in terms of spouses, and honestly, you had no problem with it. Staying at home meant time to complete your masters online, maybe even a PhD if you stayed motivated. Of course, you told him that eventually you would have to move forward and into a real career, but for the next few years, you’d be content being his young trophy wife. The two of you still joke about it.

But, asking him for money is hard, like a kid asking for allowance, and even though he gives you basically anything you want (within reason), you can’t help but feel like you’re in a position of helplessness.

Tutoring will give you some pocket money, “Just enough to, you know, get my nails done and put gas in the car and stuff… pay the phone bill maybe.”

Roland argued for a while but eventually gave in, backing down as he came to the conclusion that, “Spending time with people other than me n’ Reiner will probably do you some good.”

And, he was not wrong—hit the nail on the head without even trying. Part of the reason you want the job is to put some distance between you and Reiner. You aren’t upset with him or uneasy, but you do think that he could benefit from a bit more independence just like you.

The two of you are only getting closer, and it’s… slightly troubling. There’s been a natural progression of getting more comfortable and opening up to one another, but you wonder if maybe you’ve gotten too comfortable.

Because… he touches you now.

It’s never inappropriate, but it’s a huge difference from the way he used to keep his hands shoved in his pockets at all times. Gentle fingers skimming your waist as he maneuvers past you in the kitchen, splaying across the small of your back when you walk into a store together. At first you think he’s trying to guide you like so many men do, then you have the idea that maybe it’s his way of holding onto you, the way children hold onto their parents’ hand or shirt. Once that crosses your mind, you find that you’re more than willing to let him continue. He needs an anchor, especially in public, and if he’s chosen you as his grounding point, you can live with it.

Reiner has told you more than once that he finds you comforting, and that’s fine. You’re glad to be here for him in any capacity. It’s why you let him cuddle up to you on the couch, why you let him weave his long legs with yours and rest his head on your chest. It’s intimate, yes, but it all comes down to giving him a safe space.

You’re just a little concerned at the fact that you feel the need to hide it. You both seem to think this is something Roland should not know about, and that is definitely a red flag.

Reiner is an adult after all—an adult male with needs and urges, and it’d be a shame if he ever acted on any of those with you, not only because it would change the nature of your relationship but because you don’t know… if you’d be able to tell him no. The second red flag.

So, the job is necessary. The distance is necessary. And, when you see the hurt in Reiner’s eyes as you tell him, you know you’re making the right decision. You still feel the need to reassure him, though, coddle him.

“It’s just a few hours in the afternoon, and it’s only Monday, Wednesday, Friday.”

That seems to ease most of his worries, a deep breath leaving him where he lies over you. “Prob’ly for the best,” he mutters, words slightly muffled from the way his cheek is pressed into his teeth. “Maybe I’ll finally nut up ‘nd text Bertl or somethin’. Won’t have anything better to do.”

Your hand settles on his head, just above the shell of his ear as you stroke his hair. It makes him shiver, and you stop only for him to protest with a soft, “No, feels good,” so you pick up the idle motion again.

“How long’s it been since you talked to him?”

Reiner shrugs as best he can and answers, “Few months–probably close to six at this point.”

“Are you scared of reaching out to him?”

“A little. He’s been my best friend since freshman year, though, so… hopefully he wants to talk to me.”

“If y’all were that close, I’m sure he does. If he hasn’t tried to get in touch with you yet, he’s probably just worried about being pushy or overbearing or something.”

“Maybe,” Reiner sighs. “Wouldn’t blame him if he just gave up on me, though. I… may have told him to fuck off last time we talked.”

You snort, gently scratching the back of his head and smiling at the way he seems to melt against you a little bit more. “Best friends understand stuff like that. And, he’ll understand even better if you decide to tell him what all happened.”

The two of you go quiet as a particularly dramatic scene plays on the TV, an episode you’ve seen countless times, yet it still manages to get your attention even now. You can feel each of Reiner’s breaths as he inhales and exhales, the steady thump of his heart, how he nuzzles into you in a way he probably thinks is subtle but is absolutely not, especially when his nose brushes along the curve of one of your breasts. You give him the benefit of the doubt for about two seconds, think to yourself he probably doesn’t even realize, and then you remember that mental illness aside, Reiner is still a hot-blooded male and probably knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Heart’s beating fast,” he comments, and it makes you roll your eyes.

You try to sound casual as you tell him in an airy voice, “Yeah, ‘cause your face is basically in my boob.”

Embarrassing him isn’t the goal here, but he should know that you are very aware of his current position.

Reiner snorts quietly, a short, “Sorry,” falling from his lips as he scoots back down just a bit. “Didn’t even notice.”

He’s probably lying, but you tell him, “It’s fine,” and just focus on the show again.

It’s not something you want to worry yourself over because Reiner has been nothing but respectful toward you and maybe he really didn’t notice. Maybe his head is so full of the thoughts he’s constantly trying to fight that tits and sex are the last thing on his mind. You remember your libido being completely shot when you were struggling, so maybe…

But, when the two of you sit up and break apart, you catch his eyes lingering on you, staring just a beat too long as you stretch your arms above your head and arch your back in a deep stretch. It’s natural, you tell yourself. You were pushing your chest out, so of course his eyes were drawn there. He doesn’t actually find you attractive, you don’t think. You’re just here, probably the only woman he sees outside of his therapist. It’s not like he wants you.

There’s that tiny voice in your head that questions it, though, wonders just what you are to him, and it’s the only thing that justifies the decision to perform… a test of sorts. By the end of it, you think you’ll have your answer, and based on that, you can gauge just how much distance you should put between yourself and your stepson.

As the weekend passes and you’re able to spend a bit more time with Roland during the evenings, you second guess yourself. This new idea of yours could very well just fan the flames of whatever might be brewing within Reiner. But, it could also prove that there’s nothing there or that, even if there is, he’s more than capable of ignoring it.

It’s just that… it’s not lewd, but you’ll be crossing a line.

Monday you have tutoring sessions from eleven to four, so you only have a couple hours at the house where it’s just you and Reiner, but Tuesday, your schedule is free. You get up at around nine, take your shower and get ready for the day, then slip into a pair of leggings and a light pink t-shirt that your darker bra definitely shows through. You’re covered up, still modest, something you can pass off as oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even look in the mirror today. Just laugh it away.

You spend the morning tidying the house and working on the paper that’s been looming over you since the semester started, and when Reiner ambles downstairs, all he offers is a gruff greeting, eyes flicking to your chest for a flash before he makes his way into the kitchen. That’s good.

He goes through his own daily routine, doesn’t talk to you until he eventually pokes his head into the makeshift office which is actually the dining room and asks, “Wanna watch a few episodes of Grey’s?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a grin. “Always.”

So, you both get into your usual positions on the couch, first sitting too close until lying back feels better, and that’s that. One day down. He passed with flying colors.

Wednesday you have tutoring again, but Thursday is laundry day. You actually ask Reiner to help out with it, tell him to just bring his dirty clothes downstairs, and the two of you can knock it out in one afternoon. Today you’re in track shorts and a scoop neck t-shirt that dips low enough to show a bit of cleavage, and Reiner has a bit more trouble keeping his eyes to himself. He’s not blatantly drooling, but you see the way his gaze flits back and forth too often to be passed off as casual.

It just so happens that he is in a particularly good mood today, though, so you don’t mind the hurried glances–not when he’s smiling and teasing and bumping his hip into yours. It’s not often you see him like this, and it troubles you just how much you enjoy it.

“Polka dots, eh?” he says, and when you look over at him, your face heats as you see him folding a pair of your panties.

All the loads got thrown in together, so you figured he’d see a few pairs, but this whole time, you’ve been sliding boxer briefs over to him to fold, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by touching all over his unmentionables.

But, here he is, mouth curling into a smirk, and when he sets the panties on top of one of your stacks, he tacks on a playful, “Cute,” before picking up a towel.

“Reiner,” you say, hoping it comes out as more of an admonishment rather than the whine that echoes in your head. “You don’t have–let me fold those!”

“I don’t mind,” he snickers. “Doesn’t bother me or anything.”

“Maybe it should.”

He looks at you, something on the tip of his tongue, but instead of saying anything, he just searches through the laundry for a couple seconds before finding the little purple thong you were so hoping you’d get to before him.

Light brown irises look a shade darker than usual as he stares at you, folding the skimpy article as best he can given the lack of material there. Then, he plops it on top of the last pair and says, “I don’t care.”

The ambiguity of the statement has you warm all over. You want to glare at him or at least squint like you’re skeptical, but all you can do is look up at him with–with–god, you hope they aren’t those big doe eyes Roland pokes fun at you for.

You decide water is what you need. Go into the kitchen, cool off with a glass, then come back and finish the rest of the clothes and act like what just happened wasn’t fucking strange.

And, you do just that. Act like there’s no tension whatsoever between you and Reiner. Keep laughing, keep teasing, and end up on the couch again.

You can feel every outward breath, hot as it reaches bare skin, and you try not to move at all because you’re not sure how you want to move, how your body wants to respond. Reiner’s stubble is scratching over the place where t-shirt meets flesh, and his fingertips are digging into the small of your back just a little harder than usual, and you are quickly realizing that you may have gotten yourself into trouble.

You have the weekend to think about it. The things you were trying to blow off before are suddenly impossible to ignore, but it’s not because of Reiner or that dark look he had in his eyes for those few moments. It’s because of you and your reaction to him. Because of how much you enjoy not only being around him, but pressed against him.

Monday passes, and you’ve made up your mind. You’re going to back away, put up new boundaries, encourage him to depend more on his therapist and maybe get in touch with his friends again. That’s the plan.

Then, Tuesday morning rolls around, and you’re in the kitchen at your usual nine AM wake up hour, still clad in pajamas as you wait for your bagel to finish toasting. Footsteps on the stairs make you reel around, surprised to see Reiner up this early (or late in his case).

He pauses at the bottom step, and even from here you can see the dark circles under his eyes, assume he hasn’t actually slept yet, and fuck, that soft feeling washes over you, the one you simply cannot fight when it comes to him because you worry.

“Why haven’t you been to bed yet?”

He grunts, making his way into the kitchen and tells you, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Personal space doesn’t seem to be high on his list of priorities this morning because he crowds you against the counter just to reach over your head and grab a coffee mug from the cabinet. When he steps back, he looks down to see your expression–wide eyes, lips parted in bewilderment.

It must look like concern to him, because he puts a hand on the top of your head and assures, “I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just crash early tonight.”

You shake him off with a little pout, but when he drops his arm, his fingers graze over your chest, just the right angle to catch one of your nipples on the way down, and it makes you suck in a sharp breath and push yourself into the edge of the counter.

Reiner’s gaze is locked on your face but not for long. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or maybe it’s the pressure that’s been building between the two of you, but now he doesn’t bother to hide his gaze as it travels to your chest, no doubt taking in the pebbled buds poking against the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing.

Your body pulses under the attention, blood rushing and thoughts racing as you think the worst just might happen… any second now…

But, Reiner just clears his throat, apologizes, and steps over to the coffee maker. You squeeze your eyes shut, let out a slow breath, then straighten up and start walking toward the bedroom just in time to hear the click and pop of the toaster.

“Bagel’s ready,” Reiner calls.

Not interested in eating anymore, you tell him, “You can have it,” wanting nothing more than a quick shower to rinse off your confusion as well as Reiner’s touch.

It was an accident. It was an accident. He didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident.

You have no intention of watching TV on the couch with him later today–time to break the routine–but then hours pass, and Roland texts you that one of his assistant managers left for a family emergency which means he’ll have to stay to help close. It will be another several hours until he’s home, and when you tell Reiner this, he looks at you with that exhausted expression and asks, “Grey’s?”

It takes maybe three seconds of contemplation before you cave. He’s probably having a rough day. You know he hasn’t taken a nap because you’ve been able to hear him shuffling around up in his room all afternoon, so it’s likely he’s unfocused, having a harder time wrestling with his own thought processes. Being overly tired always seems to make you sad, like you’re about to get sick but are helpless to stop it.

You don’t want Reiner feeling helpless, and maybe, if he relaxes next to you for a while, he’ll end up drifting off. That’s the best case scenario.

You’re not entirely sure what the worst case is, though.

It’s been a while since you sat on opposite ends of the couch, but tonight, that’s exactly what you do. You lean against one armrest as Reiner takes the other, chin resting in his hand as he blinks slowly at the screen. You can tell he’s drowsy, but he’s fighting it, glancing over at you every once in a while until you finally sigh and hold a hand out to him.

Reiner’s face breaks out into one of his softer smiles–grateful–as he grabs your hand and lets you guide him to your chest. He gets situated the way he likes, hands underneath you, legs twined, and you can feel the coarse hair on his calves, Reiner having opted for the comfortable athletic shorts he wears when he’s feeling especially shitty, you’ve noticed. He’s warm and heavy. You think he’s gained a little bit of weight over the last month which is fantastic considering how thin he was when he’d first come to the house.

All awkwardness aside, you’re glad he’s here. You’re glad he trusts you. You’re glad you can care for him.

The drama plays out on TV, and Reiner’s breath falls in and out of rhythm as he dozes for a few minutes only to wake back up. You stroke down his back with one hand, fingers trailing down his spine, and with the other you lightly scratch his scalp.

“Just go to sleep, sweetie,” you coo when he pushes his face against you. “Still have a couple hours before your dad gets home.”

He hums, but you can tell he’s blinked himself awake by the way his shoulders draw up higher once again. You breathe out, more disappointed than exasperated. You just want him to relax. If you could only soothe him enough–

The scene on screen catches your attention, one of your favorite characters crying loudly, feet in stirrups as another doctor examines her, and despite knowing what’s coming, your stomach still flips when you watch the material of a pink shirt dampen in such a particular way, there’s no mistaking what it could be. It isn’t the image itself that makes you nervous, and honestly, you wouldn’t even call it being nervous–more like… anticipatory.

It’s the way Reiner’s fingers twitch, the way the warm air seeps through your top only gets hotter as he turns his face into you, nose prodding the very bottom of your sternum. Then hands are moving, sliding between you and the couch cushion, dancing at the hem of your shirt.

The, “Rei,” that falls from your lips in a murmur serves no real purpose. You’re not telling him to stop or start. You’re not telling him anything.

The pads of his fingers are scorching against the small of your back, every unique print burning against your skin, leaving trails as he moves just a little higher… then a little more… a little more…

Thumbs brush over your ribs, hands curling around your front, catching on your shirt and tugging it upward until Reiner can push it up over your bra, croaking out a desperate, “Please,” as he goes.

You’re nodding before you realize, eyes shut so tightly they’re beginning to hurt, but your own hand is still holding the back of his head, encouraging him further as he hooks fingers into the bottom of your bra and stretches elastic just enough to push it up over your tits.

The deep groan that sounds from Reiner’s chest makes your mouth run dry, a huff of air pushed from your lungs when he settles more of his weight on you. He wastes absolutely no time in lowering his face to you, one kiss placed on the swell of your breast before he latches onto a nipple, and something about it causes him to make another noise, though this one isn’t as much a groan as it is a whimper.

Your mind is a mess, no way to pick out even a single coherent thought, but it seems your subconscious takes over, a quiet, “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” sounding from you without your consent.

Reiner breathes in deeply, sucking on the bud in a way that’s just shy of painful, but stroking his hair seems to calm him down some, and he falls into something gentler, the flick of his tongue making you hold back little moans you don’t want him hearing.

This isn’t about pleasure. This is about comfort. Nothing more, right?

He massages both of your tits, large hands kneading plumpness like he’s guiding it to his mouth. When he releases the nipple he’s been working, you watch as a string of spit spans from the bud to his lower lip. Reiner doesn’t seem to care about any messes, though, as he just leans back down to lick at the other.

You do your best to remain calm, to think of this in a non-explicit way. He doesn’t seem to be taking things any further, his hands staying on your chest, and while there is a subtle rock to his body, you can’t tell if it’s because he’s pressing his hips into the couch or just due to the way he keeps dipping and tugging and pushing against you.

Honestly, you don’t think he’s actually trying to get off. It’s more like—

“So soft,” he mumbles, nibbling sensitive skin then circling it with his tongue. “Knew you’d be so…”

But, he doesn’t finish, just pulls you back into his mouth with a content sigh.

You move in a way that leaves both of you on your sides, Reiner’s head lower than yours so that he can bury his face in your chest. Despite the tingle in your spine (and between your legs) Reiner seems… calm. Sinking into the couch, lazily suckling on you like he could do it forever.

His hands stop moving so much, the pattern of his tongue growing slower and slower, and you don’t know how much time has passed, but you hear familiar credit music playing from the TV.

By the time the next episode starts, Reiner has stilled, Your nipples are wet and now cold, one of them brushing against his lips as he breathes steadily. He’s out—face in your tits, sleeping soundly. It’d be cute if…

No. No, it’s still cute in a strange way. You don’t know why, but it is. He is.

Another episode comes and goes, and when your phone chimes with a text, it jolts Reiner awake. You can feel him blinking, eyelashes brushing over your skin, and for a moment, you think he might panic, like this short nap would bring him back to his senses.

That is obviously not the case, however, as he buries himself in you all over again, murmuring into your skin, words you can’t make out as you text your husband back that no, you don’t need anything from the 24 hour fast food place, just get home safely.

You let Reiner take what he needs for just a little bit longer, glad you didn’t decide to resituate your clothes the way you’d considered earlier. It probably would have woken him up anyway.

He sucks and gropes and covers both of your nipples with gossamer spit until you scratch at his head a little harder than before and tell him, “Roland’ll be home soon.”

A mournful groan vibrates against your flesh, ricocheting in your chest cavity, but Reiner still pushes himself up on one arm, pausing only to kiss right between your breasts before sitting up fully and rubbing his eyes.

You don’t say anything about what just transpired between the two of you, just pull your bra and shirt back down then stand up.

Reiner looks up at you, questions dancing in his eyes, insecurities and fears, and though you are also full of absolute confusion, you still bend over and kiss the top of his head, softly telling him, “Go get some sleep, sweetie.”

He forces a smile, so so tired, then gets up and trudges upstairs.

Watching as he goes, you wonder how it is that you can feel like everything has changed between the two of you while also getting the impression that nothing’s changed at all.

~ ~ ~

Reiner is a pretty big fucking fan of routines these days. The predictability is nice, keeps him on track and on a schedule even if said schedule is fairly basic. He has a wake up routine—simple stretches, teeth brushing, showering. A specific Wednesday routine when therapy threatens to throw him off. An eating routine that took a while to get used to considering how screwed up his hours are. And then, he has a bedtime routine.

That one is probably his favorite (is definitely his favorite).

At around seven AM, Reiner sits at the kitchen table and eats a bowl of cereal across from Roland who is still waking up with his coffee, then once his father leaves and that front door is locked into place, Reiner rinses out his bowl and the sugar from his mouth and shuffles into the downstairs bedroom, the one you’re still asleep in.

It was probably extremely fucking weird for you the first time—it was weird for him too—but now after a few weeks, you’re familiar with it. Reiner slides under covers next to you, slinging one arm over your hips and resting his head on your shoulder. You’re slowly stirring, just awake enough to hum in acknowledgement, awake enough to shift, awake enough to lazily pull up whatever big t-shirt you chose the night before.

That’s what he waits for every time. The permission. You have to be the one to say okay, go ahead, otherwise Reiner will just lay and wait and possibly fall into a restless sleep.

But, he much prefers this. Not only because he enjoys it more but also because it makes him drift off even faster. He’s already tired, hands moving over your tits slowly, lowering himself to one and sucking in a way that isn’t even a little hurried or frantic.

Reiner sighs happily, nibbling for a moment before pulling your hardened nipple further into his mouth, and he can feel himself stiffening in his joggers, but it’s not something he’s about to take care of. He’s not here to get his dick wet. He’s here to come down, to relax and be cared for, and as you sleepily card fingers through his hair, he is just that.

A puddle next to you, Reiner licks and suckles, trying not to pay attention to the way your hips twitch every now and again. You seem so casual about it, he doubts you’re actually aroused by this frankly pathetic display of need, but he does have to keep in mind this is an erogenous zone for you, so maybe…

Doesn’t matter. He’s fantasized about you enough, and if he lets his mind get away from him here and now, it’ll only lead to disaster.

So, he just lays and grunts and sucks on you as if he were made to. Kinda feels like he was.

That’s how it goes almost every morning. Both of you usually end up dozing again until your alarm goes off at nine, and you either leave Reiner to sleep as you get ready for work at the college or you leave him to sleep as you putter around the house, saving errands for later so that he can come with you if he wants to. Newsflash: he always wants to.

You still watch TV together, still let him mouth over you as he pleases, running a hand over his scalp or down his spine, and he wonders how you justify it. What’s going through your mind while he takes and takes and takes from you?

Reiner feels genuinely bad about it, well aware that this is not normal, but he can’t deny that his mood has been better since you started doing this—whatever this is.

In the past four and a half weeks, he’s gotten in contact with Bertholdt and Annie, come up with a new workout regimen that is slightly more than just yoga poses, and has started opening up more in therapy. He’s obviously keeping specific details to himself, but Dr. Ral is aware that he’s found a haven within you, and that his sex drive is back. She just doesn’t know that the two are related, and he’s definitely not about to tell her about how often he jerks off in the shower while thinking about suffocating in your tits, the frequency of which only increasing since he’s pretty sure they’ve grown a little. Maybe you’ve gained a bit of weight he hasn’t noticed anywhere else. Maybe it’s Reiner’s lizard brain playing tricks on him.

Anyway, he’s getting distracted now. The original point is that things are changing and for the better. ‘Happiness’ isn’t the right word. Reiner knows he’s far from that, but he’s… adjusting. In his own way. He’s been living with you and Roland for almost five months now, and he can honestly say that it’s gotten easier, that his brain isn’t quite as mean to him as it was before. The ideation is most certainly still present, but it’s not as loud as it was before.

His doctors are impressed in a hesitant sort of way, like they’re expecting this very mild high to come crashing down, and he gets it. He isn’t exactly stable just yet. But, they also don’t understand the kind of support he’s getting at home.

“What would you say is, like… the correlation between how I grew up and how I ended up here?” Reiner asks Dr. Ral during session, picking at the string hanging from the hole in his jeans. “Like all that nature versus nurture bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” she laughs. “It’s a widely respected theory. Though, I will admit it’s a little harder to differentiate these days since home lives aren’t the only difficult part of childhood. The world itself is hard to live in, so a lot of anxiety and feelings of hopelessness stem from our environment today. A kid could grow up with doting parents, good friends, and the best dog ever, and still end up struggling.”

“But, how much of that is the world, and how much of that is just your shitty brain not making the right chemicals?”

“Reiner,” she sighs with a little smile. “It could be that your brain has always functioned differently, and it’s only recently become obvious. Or, it could be because you were born into a crappy world full of war and recession and tragedy. Or, it could be the way you were raised at home.”

“You think my parents have something to do with it, don’t you?” Reiner asks with a bitter smile.

Dr. Ral shrugs, “They play an integral role in a person’s life, but I don’t like placing blame unless the fault is obvious.”

Abuse, Reiner can assume. He didn’t grow up dealing with anything like that, thank goodness. Probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere near this far if he had, but he did spend a lot of time alone, and he’s not surprised when the doctor across from him highlights that.

“We haven’t talked about your childhood in length, but we’ve touched on the missing father and the overworked mother.”

“You make them sound like self-help books,” he snorts. “For real, though, I was fine. I learned how to take care of myself.”

“That’s it, though, you shouldn’t have had to. Not at the young age of…?” She lifts an eyebrow in question, and Reiner ruffles his hair out of place as he thinks.

“I don’t know, like, four or something? When Mom had money, she’d pay the neighbors to take care of me, but that was… not the case most of the time.” He looks at her seriously, probably pleadingly as he tells her, “She did her best. It wasn’t her fault.”

“I’m not trying to imply anything was her fault, Reiner. I’m sure she did everything she could to make sure you were okay. I’m just saying that when you grow up like that, without a strong parental figure, it means you haven’t been nurtured the way that most humans need to be.”

Reiner sucks his teeth, tries to fight the smile that’s threatening to split his face. If she only knew.

“Haven’t been nurtured, huh?”

Her expression is sympathetic. “It could be a contributing factor. You’ve had to take care of yourself for such a long time. Neurochemistry on your side or not–eventually, you were going to hit a breaking point.”

He drives home mulling it over, tuning out his music and apparently the rest of his surroundings as someone behind him honks when he sits too long after a light has turned green.

There’s not even a tiny part of Reiner that’s angry at his mother for the way he was brought up. There were many lonely evenings and weekends, a lot of cheese sandwiches and juice spills, but it always seemed like she was doing what she could to make ends meet after her shitty husband left her.

It almost felt like betraying her, coming to live with Roland, but Reiner knows his dad has means of supporting him that his mother does not. Besides, irritated as she would get when Roland would come take him to lunch (the few times that he did), she still seemed to support it, happy that Reiner was getting to know the other person responsible for his being put on this earth.

His usual Wednesday sandwich is waiting for him in the fridge when he opens the stainless steel doors, and even though he was fully expecting it to be there as always, Reiner still finds himself chuckling given the subject of his last conversation with the therapist.

You won’t be home for another half an hour, so Reiner finishes eating then switches out the laundry you left earlier, thinking too hard about that one afternoon he spent folding clothes with you, the way you’d looked so flustered…

Before he can get too lost in the fantasy of what you might look like in nothing but those polka dot panties or that skimpy purple thong, the front door opens and you walk in–bag slung over one shoulder, thermos in hand, flashing a bright smile at Reiner when you see him.

“Hey, you,” you greet easily. “How was your appointment?”

Reiner makes a non-committal noise, striding over and taking your bag, putting it on one of the dining room chairs then following you into the kitchen where you rinse out your cup.

“Same as always. Talk about feelings and plans and progress and shit.” He pauses, feels his lips begin to curl again as he leans against the counter and utters, “Doctor Ral thinks I wasn’t nurtured enough as a kid.”

The laugh you let out is a little startling but so, so genuine as you grin widely and nod, “Yeah, I, uh–I think I could’ve told you that, baby.”

Sparks–from the crown of his head all the way to his toes. Reiner watches you wash your dish for a few moments before stepping up behind you, arms locking around your waist as he lowers his head to rest on your shoulder.

“That why you let me get away with so much shit?” he asks, only half joking.

You scoff, wiggling a bit and claiming, “I do not–” but stop when you’ve turned all the way to face him. “Okay, maybe,” you concede, features softening when you raise a hand to touch his face. “I just like knowing you’re okay, and the only time I know you are is when… I’m with you, so…”

He’s too close. He knows it, and you know it, nearly touching, and fuck, you’ve gone this far, so–

Your body goes stiff when he kisses you, no movement but no objection either, and once Reiner presses just a little harder, you give in and let your lips move against his.

It doesn’t take him long to get light-headed, blood rushing south as he pushes you against the cabinets and grinds his hips into yours. A small sound of discomfort rings loud and clear in his ears, though, and he can assume a knob or corner is digging into you, so he leans back enough to give himself the room to lift you off the tile and sit you on the lip of the counter.

Your thighs squeeze his sides as he stands between them, his hands roaming until they find what he always seems to be looking for. You mewl when he paws at your tits–soft and plump, so pretty when they glisten with his spit–and Reiner makes quick work of your shirt, only breaking away from your kiss when he has to pull the material over your head.

He meets your wide eyes, his own probably looking a little wild as he unclasps your bra, but he does manage to croak out an almost painful, “Tell me to stop–”

“No,” you breathe, straps sliding down your arms until you drop your bra on the floor.

Reiner holds your head in both hands as he kisses you again–deeper than the last time, teeth pressing against lips and tongues burning one another, and only when you start to pant does he let go and move downward.

The rush of emotion that always comes with latching onto you floods his system–the closeness, the connection, the intimacy of it, and Reiner groans as he sucks you into his mouth, fuck, he loves the feeling, loves the way your little bud hardens against his tongue, how you shudder when he licks at the velvety ring around it, and you’re arching your back and wrapping your legs around him as he sucks and sucks and sucks.

“Reiner–I–”

Something in your voice is a little off, but he doesn’t stop–couldn’t if he wanted to at this point. His cock is throbbing in his pants, and he can feel that his neck and face are flushed with want. He’s so lost, so lost, and doesn’t want to come back, half-crazed and delirious and–

The first taste is a shock. A tiny drop of what could be sweet cream, but it’s gone so fast–nothing more than the ghost of flavor–that Reiner thinks he may have hallucinated it.

Then, there’s another, and Reiner knows that something new is definitely hitting his tongue. When he pulls back, his eyes go wide, taking in the thick droplets beading around your nipples, and as he gently tugs on the bud he hasn’t been sucking on, a couple more pale dots leak out.

“Holy fuck,” he huffs, absolute reverence lacing his words, because you’re–this is–he did this to you. He’s no master of anatomy, but Reiner is pretty sure that it’s because of him that your body thinks–

You whimper a shameful, “Oh, god, I–” but he’s already lapping at your tits again, gathering anything he can and moaning at the saccharinity.

Sweet, so sweet, so sweet, Reiner repeats to himself, hips rocking into nothing as he grows impossibly harder, and he thinks if he can drink just a little bit more from you, he might be able to come untouched. This is his secret fantasy come to life. He doesn’t fully understand it, but it doesn’t matter because he is in ecstasy, trying so hard not to hurt you while doing his best to pull every drop of ambrosia from your perfect fucking body.

It doesn’t take long at all for your dripping to cease, your savory taste on his tongue now only in essence as Reiner raises enough to look you in the eye. Your chest is heaving, smaller hands coming up to cup your breasts as you gaze down at them, then back at him, concern morphing your expression, and for the first time since he met you, Reiner gets to comfort you.

“I’ve got you, okay?” he tells you with a certainty he has no right to claim.

It feels like his head is swimming, and his words are too thick in his mouth, but you still nod, allowing Reiner to tilt your chin up and kiss you softly. It’s only when he braces himself on the countertop that he realizes he’s shaking, affection swelling inside of him, and he can’t help the next string of clumsy words that tumble from his mouth straight into yours, “I’ve got you, okay? You’re so good to me, you know that, so perfect, just let me–”

You pull him closer to you, press against him, and when Reiner grunts at the way it makes his trapped cock rub over the lip of the counter, you trail shy fingers down his chest and to his waist.

“One touch from you, and I will come,” he warns you shamelessly.

It makes you giggle against his lips but does not deter you, so Reiner unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling himself free and hissing at the cool air that hits him. He isn’t sure he’s ever been this hard before, his tip an alarming shade of red, a string of precum stretching from his swollen head down into his boxers where a small puddle has been left.

He’s a fucking mess, and when your fingers close around him, his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head. It’s an awkward angle for you, and he knows this, but he also knows you won’t have to be in this position for long.

Pleasure builds in his gut, his balls lifting and tightening, and when you swipe a thumb over his leaking tip, Reiner’s voice breaks on a swear, and he comes on the spot. Lines of white splatter over the cabinets and your legs where they’re hanging over the counter, and he twitches in your grasp, the blood pounding in his head waning just enough for him to focus on your face again.

You’re watching him intently, lips parted and tilted upward as you keep stroking him softly. Reiner shudders, grunting when you give him a light squeeze, then covers your hand with his.

“Fucking Christ.”

A few more full-body shivers, and he’s able to tuck himself back into his pants and walk backward on weak legs to help you slide off the counter. You’re quick to wet a paper towel and wipe both yourself and the cabinets down, making sure nothing is left behind, and once that’s taken care of, you pull your shirt back on.

Reiner tracks your movements the whole time, still in his post-orgasm high as he admires the way you look bending over, thinks he can see the folds of your pussy through skin tight leggings and wonders if you’re wet right now. God, he hopes you are.

“You know, I can–I mean, you should let me–”

You turn to him and shake your head. “No, it’s okay. I just…” You must see the way his face falls a bit. It isn’t just that he wants to return the favor; it’s that he wants to make you feel good. He wants to take care of you. Fuck, he wants to watch you come, knows you will be beautiful letting go like that.

“Rei, I just need to think for a second, okay?” you try, then as if you’ve just remembered, you raise your hands to your chest again and add, “And, I need to do some fucking research apparently.”

“I can help,” he’s too quick to offer. “I mean, I can also… it’s my fault, and I don’t–” he chews on his bottom lip, glancing from you to the floor then back to you at lightning speed. “I don’t want you to do anything to stop it. Please.”

“You…” Eyes narrowing in skepticism, you look at him curiously. “You don’t mind that? Like, you want it? The mil–”

“You have no fucking idea how much I want it.” The confession makes him blush furiously, but Reiner doesn’t regret making it.

“Why?”

He holds his arms out like he doesn’t know. And, he truly doesn’t, but he is getting a vague idea of where some of his motivations may lie.

“All I know is that it feels good. Physically and… emotionally, or whatever.” You stare at him like you’re waiting for him to elaborate, but all he gives you is a casual, “Plus, it tasted good. Wasn’t expecting it to taste that good.”

You keep watching for a while, gears turning in your head, hands still on your own tits, then nod and relax some.

“I’ll, um… I’ll look into it, but if my mom friends are anything to go by then I will probably need assistance with, um–”

“Anything,” he cuts you off. “I’ll help you with anything, just ask, I’m right here, I promise.”

That deer-in-the-headlights expression doesn’t leave your face entirely, and Reiner guesses you’re going over all the ways this can go wrong, but he’s past that point. He knows what the two of you have been doing for the last several weeks is wrong, or at the very least, frowned upon, but his default state is untempered anxiety, so this is nothing new. You, however…

He paces over to you, takes your hands from your chest, and stoops to look at you.

“If this is a hard no, if you wanna just stop and pretend nothing’s happened or happening, that’s fine. I’ll understand,” then he adds a purposeful, “I will live,” because that’s what this really comes down to, isn’t it? You don’t want to hurt him and leave him teetering again.

“I’m…” you swallow. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying I need to… prepare.”

Reiner gathers you to his chest and hugs you tightly, relieved when you wrap your arms around him. You stand like that for too long, and when you peel yourself away, he grins at the way you rise onto your tiptoes and kiss him.

“I need you to recognize, though, like…” You pull back from his lips to look at him and finish, “This is fucked up. You know what we’re doing is–”

“It’s weird as shit, I know,” he confirms with a nervous chuckle. “Had no fucking intention of anything like this happening when I moved in.”

“Okay, just as long as… we both feel guilty.”

Reiner snorts. “Is that supposed to stop us or something?”

“No, but at least I know we each have a moral compass.”

Reiner leans down again, slotting his lips against yours and grumbling, “A moral compass doesn’t mean shit if it’s busted.”

You laugh, a little melody muffled by his kiss, and Reiner does everything he can to memorize the way your smile feels.

~ ~ ~

Never in a million years did you think you would find yourself in this predicament–standing in your bathroom, grimacing as you look at yourself in the mirror, massaging your breasts. You had noticed they’ve been particularly tender, but you figured it had something to do with your cycle, possibly hormone changes that are coming with age.

But no, it’s… induced lactation, as Google explained, and you brought it on yourself completely by accident.

One of the biggest reasons you never wanted to have children is the stress it would put on your body, and though you won’t get the full fucking effect of pregnancy, this development is alarming to say the least.

You aren’t angry, especially not after the way Reiner had reacted to it, but you’re not exactly thrilled. The whole situation is unprecedented, absolutely did not see this coming, but you suppose you may as well make the best of it. You could stop the process if you really wanted to, but you’re not sure you’d be able to bear the disappointment Reiner would no doubt try and fail to hide.

So, you decide you’ll give it a trial period, at least try for his sake, and who knows—maybe you’ll grow to like it and fall deeper into the mess the two of you have made.

For now, though, there’s definitely a level of discomfort, much of which being a direct result of your breasts. You had to pump several times since this started yesterday, but after an almost full night of not, you aren’t feeling great.

As soon as Roland had left the room this morning you’d rolled out of bed and into the bathroom to examine yourself. He should be finishing up his breakfast soon, and you consider just getting in the shower to have an extra private space to relieve some pressure, but before you can do that, the bedroom door is opening, and Reiner is calling your name.

“In here,” you respond, and when he peeks around the corner, you try not to look as uncomfortable as you feel.

To no avail, apparently, because Reiner frowns immediately, taking in your expression and the way you’re holding yourself.

“Sore?”

You make an unsure noise, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Maybe? I’m not sure if it’s all in my head or not. Like, I’m thinking too hard about it.”

“Couldn’t hurt to squeeze some out,” he shrugs in an attempt to look casual, but his mouth is twisting a certain way as he fights a smile.

“No,” you sigh, “Definitely couldn’t hurt.”

He paces into the bathroom, guiding you by the hip to turn you around then lifting you onto the counter like he did the day before.

You thought you might get used to this tingling considering how many times you had to do this yesterday, but Reiner was only able to help a few of those times before his father got home, so the pull of his mouth and swirl of his tongue still makes you gasp. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat as he sucks, hands careful as he massages your tits, and it makes you let out a whimper.

Like the day before, not much comes out of either one, but Reiner acts like every drop is precious, eyes hazy when he eventually pulls away and looks at you.

You’re tender and assume you’ll remain so for a while, and when Reiner cups the swell of your breasts, you have to admit his warm hands feel very nice. It does leave you feeling extremely vulnerable, though–a position you’re still not used to being in when around him.

Just these past twenty-four hours have shown you how strong he is, how large his presence can feel even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He can lift you with ease, steady hands either wrapping around your thighs or settling under your arms to move you wherever he sees fit. There’s no shyness in the way he presses his hips against yours, and the only question he seems to have is something along the lines of ‘are you okay with this?’

He’s kind and respectful and very concerned with what you’re feeling, but… he obviously knows what he wants.

“So, I read a lot last night,” he starts, looking toward the ceiling like it has a script written on it, and you have to laugh because you also read last night–more than your brain could even hold. “Apparently, what you’re producing right now is, like, not exactly milk? It’s–”

“Colostrum, yeah. It’s really important for newborns. Give it a few more days and my–” you pause and glance downward, stuttering as you finish, “–my milk will… come in.”

“Exactly. And, there will be… more of that?”

“A lot more if Google is to be trusted. It’ll, um… It’ll take a little longer for you to… But, they need to be, like, drained, or they’ll start to hurt.”

“I can set alarms on my phone, or–” Another giggle stops him, and Reiner smiles and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “You’re just really gung-ho about this.”

“I’m stoked,” he tells you, grin widening before he places a quick kiss on your lips. “I’ve maybe thought about it before. There’s just so many–like, I can’t even explain—it’s sexy and soothing and just fucking triggers something in my brain that…” He exhales heavily, has that look about him that means he’s about to say something that’ll knock the wind out of you, and you’re absolutely correct.

Leveling big, amber eyes at you–so deep and painfully earnest–Reiner breathes, “I am so ready to worship you.”

Your body heats, a familiar stinging sensation making you blink frantically and try to look away, but he catches you with a finger under your chin, the sudden bounce of your abandoned tits making you wince, and Reiner mutters a quiet, “Sorry,” as he kisses you again and again and again.

He has legitimate feelings, you think. Legitimate, big feelings. It’s worrisome, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have any in return.

It’s all the damn time spent alone. The bearing of souls and endless cuddling. You should have stopped it before it even got started, but it is far too late now.

After sniffling away tears you’re a little mortified by, you thank Reiner and tell him to go get some sleep.

“I’ll try, but promise you’ll wake me up when you need me.”

“I promise,” you nod, trying not to snort when he walks away awkwardly, a little stiff between the legs.

Of course, keeping the promise is a little harder than making it. It’s somewhat humiliating asking for help with something so personal—doesn’t matter how much Reiner may enjoy it. After living life thinking you’d never once have to utter the question ‘hey, can you help me with my boobs?’, it’s extremely difficult working up the moxy, may as well be asking ‘would you mind milking me?’.

There’s also the added stress of having to sneak around at night in order to do it. With Roland fast asleep in bed, you tiptoe out of the room as quietly as possible and make your way upstairs where Reiner pulls you into his lap and sucks on your tits until nothing comes out. Then, depending on his mood, he might keep going.

Nothing progresses past the quick handjob you gave him a few days ago, but… that changes.

After a six-hour day of going over essays with clueless freshmen, you shuffle into the house and drop your bag in the dining room, gnawing on your bottom lip as you glance around for Reiner.

When he’s not in your immediate view, you call for him and immediately hear a fumbling upstairs followed by the loud pounding of feet as he rushes to meet you.

“Yeah, sweetness?”

The new pet name has made you blush and smile every time he’s used it the past few days, but today it does not, too bothered by the heaviness in your chest as you gaze at him in a silent plea.

“There’s too—something feels different,” you mumble. You’re not quite in pain, but you are sore and feeling a little swollen.

The look of sympathy Reiner gives you is enough to make your throat tighten. You still don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, and you’re embarrassed and overwhelmed, and when he murmurs an understanding, “Baby, come here,” you take his hand and let him lead you to the couch.

The dynamic is odd—definitely shifted within the last week. Instead of pampering him, he’s the one treating you like glass, cooing at you and holding you closely. You hadn’t foreseen this when he’d first moved in, truly viewed him as nothing more than Roland’s estranged son, a lost boy looking for a home.

He is so much more than that, though.

Reiner arranges you in his lap before ridding you of your shirt and bra, ogling your chest before biting his lip and palming your tits. That tingle you’ve only just recently gotten used to is ever present, but this firm pressure that seems to be stretching your skin is a new sensation.

So gentle when he latches onto your nipple, Reiner soothes you with his soft tongue first, slow to start sucking. When he does, though, his eyes shoot up to yours, wide and excited.

“It’s—”

He squeezes both of your tits just hard enough for fluid—lighter than what you were producing before—to drip from you in a very slow, very thin stream.

Milk leaking from your own nipples is such a strange sight to behold, but Reiner is more than happy to lick away the tiny rivulets and pull you back into his mouth. His eyelids flutter as he laps and suckles, and you can feel his cock growing beneath you, pressing right between your legs and distracting you from any of your insecurities.

You rock your hips, dragging your covered pussy over his bulge and pushing his face further into your tits. Reiner groans deeply, lifting to meet the motion then releasing your nipple to tell you, “Keep moving like that, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

It only makes you rub over him again, and Reiner stares at you with half-lidded eyes as he slides a hand under you to caress your aching cunt.

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” he questions, voice somehow playful and dark at the same time, and you nod.

There is an undeniable feeling of lopsidedness now that he’s partially drained one of your breasts, but as odd as the difference in weight is, you can’t be bothered by it when Reiner is grinding his cock up against you.

It’s hard to say what has you so desperate—the idea of relief possibly, or maybe just the fact that the two of you have been tiptoeing around this for what seems like fucking forever. Whatever it is has you trembling on top of him, begging, “Please, Rei, I wanna feel—”

He shushes you, twisting to lay you on your back then grounding himself with one knee on the couch and a foot planted on the ground. It gives him more than enough access to pepper kisses down your naked torso while slowly pulling down your jeans and panties. You lift off the cushions to help, heart beating erratically as he spreads your legs and gazes at your bare cunt.

Fingertips trace down your thighs then in-between them, just barely brushing over your sensitive folds. The touch makes you jerk, knees falling further open, and Reiner watches your expression as he teases you again.

You make a pathetic noise of dissatisfaction, and Reiner grins in response, relenting with a low, “Okay, I know,” before he runs a finger down your slit and slowly pushes it into your quivering hole.

Every digit slides in with ease, but Reiner’s hands are large—fingers long and much thicker than your own—so there’s still a stretch that accompanies the intrusion. Even so, you moan his name and let your head fall back.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” he breathes, moving to hover over you while pumping in and out of your pussy. He bends to catch one of your nipples again, his grunt reverberating inside of you, and all you can do is whimper and move your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.

“Another?”

“Please—yes, yes, Rei—”

He pushes the second in even slower than the first, but once his palm is flush with you, Reiner strokes and presses into your walls in a way that has you arching into him. His stubble is rough against your tits, the complete opposite of his velvet tongue, and between his endless suckling and the thick fingers filling you up, you think you might cry.

“Reiner, oh my god, I’m—okay, I’m r-ready, just…”

You feel him scissor his fingers apart for a moment, one last effort to prepare you, then he’s pulling away and tugging his clothes off, pausing momentarily to lick the slick from his hand.

It’s only been a week since you saw his cock for the first time, but now that it’s about to be inside of you, it looks bigger. The length makes your stomach flip, well above average with a pretty little curve, but it’s his girth that makes your mouth water.

He gives himself a few strokes, precum seeping from his flushed tip, and it’s only when he’s lined up with your entrance that he asks, “Wait, do you want me to wear a condom?”

You should say yes—should absolutely take a breather and get protection because you’re not on birth control, no need since Roland had a vasectomy long before you came into the picture—but you’re already here, splayed out and boiling from the inside out, so you tell him, “Just pull out, please, it’s fi—”

You’re cut off when he pushes in, breaching that ring of muscle and making you hiss saliva back from your teeth. You’re plenty wet and well-stretched—Reiner is just–there’s so much of him.

Fortunately for you, he knows it and stays still. Even as you shift your hips and squeeze the head of his cock, all he does is shut his eyes and run his fingers down your body. You rock into him, taking him by the centimeter, wondering how you’ll fit every inch, but then he starts rubbing circles into your clit and after the initial clench of every muscle in your fucking body, you open up for him in full.

Legs spread, arousal leaks out of you and coats his cock, and your jaw drops as Reiner pushes in as far as he can, panting heavily while you moan beneath him.

His first thrusts are torturously slow, dragging his hips back then pressing them forward at a pace that makes you want to scream, but you need it. You need to get used to him because Reiner is filling you up in ways you never have been before.

Your husband—Jesus fuck, his father—isn’t the smallest, but Reiner outclasses him in every possible measurement. Your hole stretches around him and your walls mold to his shape, and as he finally picks up speed, you can’t even think straight.

“Ohfuck—oh—”

“Feel good?” he teases, breaking into a groan when he glances down at your bouncing tits, unable to keep himself from attaching himself to one of them again.

You lock your ankles behind his back, nails digging into his shoulders as you try to pull him closer—pull him deeper, and when he snaps forward at a particular angle, you cry out and beg him to, “Keep doing that, right there, right there…”

“Fuck—okay, I’ve got you—”

Reiner fucks into you so perfectly, making your eyes roll and your toes curl. A smile breaks out on your face, and he must be watching from where he’s sucking down milk because he lets your nipple pop out of his mouth just so he can tell you, “Keep smiling like that, baby, so sweet for me, fuck, so good to me.”

He slides his hands under you and scoops you up only to fall back with you in his lap, and it forces him further inside of you, the fat head of his cock kissing your cervix and making you choke. Reiner bounces you like that for some time, reaching up and groping you, admiring the way white leaks from your hard nipples and over the curves of your breasts.

Then, he’s sitting up and running his tongue over you, lapping up everything he can and growling, “You sure you want me to pull out?”

You whimper in response. The idea of Reiner coming inside of you makes you throb around him, and he must feel you clench tightly because he groans and keeps going, “Could fuck a baby right into this perfect pussy, make you a real mommy…”

“Fuck, Reiner!”

Even out of your mind like you are, you know you don’t want to get pregnant, but god dammit, the way he says it makes your body ache for him.

Reaching down, you play with your clit, the position causing your arms to push your chest up, and Reiner busies himself with draining the rest of the milk from your tits, his grip on your hips unforgiving as he moves you to his will.

He’s been slamming into your g-spot since he pulled you on top of him, and you can sense pressure building inside of you, a bloated sort of feeling. It isn’t until Reiner tosses you on your back once again and folds you in half that the seal bursts and you start to squirt, soaking his pelvis as well as your own, the fluid dripping down your ass.

Reiner swears and leans over you, pressing into you further as he rests some of his weight on your bent legs. You’re pinned underneath him, so full of cock you might gag on it. Sweat is beading at his hairline, his cheeks pink, lips red from being bitten, and as you stare up at him, you’re overcome with more emotion than you can process—he’s so handsome and so sweet, and you can tell he adores you, can see it even now in his lustful eyes.

He makes a desperate sound when you pull him down into a kiss, sloppy and heated as he drives himself into you over and over.

“I can do it,” he pants. “Just tell me you want it. You’d be so pretty—a fucking goddess, my fucking goddess—just let me fill you up with cum, please—”

“Rei, you can’t,” you try, words thick, eyes teary from so much stimulation. His fingers find your clit again and you whine only for him to muffle it with another kiss. “I want you s-so—mm—so bad, but—”

He nods, and when you crack an eye open you can see he’s squeezing his shut, brow furrowed as his hips start to stutter.

He’s close—so close and fighting it, and you reach behind his head to scratch his scalp the way he likes so much. Amber eyes finding yours, you try to smile, distracted by the flick of his fingers over your swollen clit.

“You can come anywhere else you want,” you huff. “Wherever—just not—”

“I know,” he nods. “I know, I know.”

A groan rumbles from his chest but quickly dies off when his mouth opens, jaw sliding, and for one, terrifying second, you think he’s actually going to ignore your plea, but he pulls out all at once, leaving you devastatingly empty as he tugs your legs back down and swings one of his own over your hips.

He aims for your tits, stroking his wet cock like his life depends on it until he comes. Thick, hot lines paint your chest and even catch your lips and chin, the sheer volume of cum giving you the impression that yes, Reiner absolutely has the ability to fuck a baby into you—probably many of them—and your body reacts by making your cunt pulse.

Once he’s finished, Reiner drops to his forearms and slots his lips against yours, his cum smearing between your mouths and tongues. It’s filthy—you both are—but you don’t want to stop, least of all when he slips his fingers into your hole and starts pumping them back and forth.

“You gonna come again, sweetness?” he asks, hovering just over you and licking the mess from your lips.

You nod, eyebrows knit together as you dig your heels into the cushion. You can feel it building, heat spreading up your legs, but it all disappears when Reiner pulls out to resituate himself between your thighs.

You suck in a huge breath when he shoves his fingers back inside, then another when he pulls your clit into his mouth. A similar pattern to when he plays with your nipples, Reiner sucks on your clit until your muscles seize up and you moan his name, squirt dripping into his palm as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You feel utterly wrecked. Thoroughly fucked and covered in sweat and cum. You’re probably gonna have to clean the couch or, at the very least, flip the cushions until you can get the proper supplies.

Catching your breath, you try to calm down, fingers carding through damp, blond hair as Reiner kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. You feel the tilt of his head as he looks up at you, then hear a whispered expletive before he starts crawling up your body, eyes zeroed in on your tits.

Glancing down, you laugh quietly when you find the tiniest bit of milk dribbling from your nipples again. You reach up to guide Reiner’s face to your chest, smiling lazily when he latches on to one and lets out a satisfied sigh. So quick to fall back into a more vulnerable state, he suckles and squeezes, eyelids drooping as you drip into his mouth and stroke through his hair.

“Sweet boy,” you hum, tracing around his ears and down his neck. “You’re so sweet.”

The two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now you’re happy to bask in your afterglow, high off of hormones as you gaze down at Reiner and feel your heart swell for him.

~ ~ ~ The bathwater is so warm, soothing Reiner’s aching muscles as he sits with his back to the porcelain and you against his chest. He’s honestly still a little sore from a couple days ago–it has been a while since he’s participated in physical activity of that sort, and he can feel it in his abs and thighs.

The two of you have acted as heavy pendulums the last forty-eight hours, swinging back and forth between desperate touches and quiet processing. There is pleasure and there is guilt, and then there is Reiner making it even more confusing by drinking from you and triggering who knows what (he knows what–it’s oxytocin, and it’s making you impossibly soft for him).

He would feel bad if he wasn’t down so bad, but fuck, the way you watch him when he helps you, how you come into his room late at night all bleary-eyed and tender–he can’t stop, and he doesn’t want to.

Now, soaking in the tub, he brushes his lips over your shoulder and murmurs, “What’s on your mind?” You’ve been silent for too long, and Reiner wants to know what’s going on in your head, if it’s anything he can help with.

“Not much,” you sigh, shifting against him. “I think this is about to get a little more complicated, though.”

“How so?”

“Scheduling conflicts,” you say with a little laugh, and Reiner frowns because he doesn’t understand until you explain, “Pumping. Milk production increasing means I’m gonna have to find the time–”

“We are gonna find the time,” he corrects, slow as he draws his hands out of the water to cup your tits, lightly thumbing over your nipples.

Reiner grins when you let out a tiny squeak, your hips jerking and causing ripples. He knows you’re trying to be serious, though, so he doesn’t tease any further, gently massaging your swollen breasts as you relax into him and continue.

“Rei, you can’t be everywhere I am.”

“Wanna bet?” he challenges with a snicker. “But, really, what are the alternatives besides stopping altogether?”

“I guess just pumping at regular intervals like normal mothers do. It’s just like… do I just waste it?” Reiner’s stomach drops at the thought. “Can I give it away? Find some place to store it?”

“Store it, please, for the love of god–”

“What?” you giggle. “You just gonna, like, thaw it out and pour it in with your Raisin Bran? Fill a thermos and take it to your doctor appointments?”

He retaliates by nipping at the shell of your ear and growling, “Maybe.”

“You are…” You shake your head, laughing again when Reiner has to resituate the way his cock is pressing against your back. “So strange.”

“It’s endearing, though, right?”

“Unfortunately,” you answer, feigning annoyance.

He sinks back into the ceramic, resuming the mindful kneading that pulls the occasional little moan from you. Reiner could do this all day. All day and night. Being this close, making you feel good in the most basic way.

A few minutes later, you speak up again, a meek, “Rei?”

“Hm?”

“Do you… the other day when we were–and you were about to… do you actually wanna get me pregnant?”

“Oh, uh–” He was wondering when you might bring this up. Truth is, he doesn’t really know where that came from. “Short answer is no…?”

You tilt your head to get an off-kilter view of his face and frown. “Why do you sound so unsure?”

“‘Cause, like…” Reiner sighs, rests his head against the tile behind him and tries to get his thoughts in order. “I don’t want kids. Just–I don’t. They would be irreparably fucked up, like–... No.”

“Okay, but?”

“But…” He slides one of his hands down to lay on your stomach, stroking over it with his fingertips and quietly confessing, “The idea of not only getting to come inside you but then watching you get fat with my baby–”

You inhale sharply, lips parted but unmoving, and despite the way he’s getting hard, Reiner feels the need to clarify, “I don’t want kids. But, the fantasy is nice.”

“So, it’s just a sex thing. It’s not, like, you legitimately wanting–”

“Yeah, no, I’m not gonna baby-trap you or anything,” he chuckles. “It’s just my fuckin’ lizard brain.”

“Instinct to breed,” you joke, but it makes Reiner’s grip tighten on you, teeth scraping against your shoulder.

“Can’t just say shit like that,” he grumbles. “I am a very simple, very stupid man, okay?”

“You are not,” you laugh. “Everyone has their thing.” There’s a pause, and then your voice drops a bit when you add, “And, it’s sweet in a twisted sorta way.”

“Hm?”

“That you think I’d be… pretty like that.”

“So fucking pretty,” he agrees, pressing his face into your neck. “And, I don’t care what you say, you’d be so good at it–” he mouths over your pulse point, whispers, “–such a good mommy.”

Reiner hears you breathe deeply, pushing yourself into his hand, and he squeezes one of your nipples until a line of milk squirts from it.

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to seeing it, white fluid dripping down into the water–your tits so full for him, fuck–

“You about ready to pump?”

You nod, and Reiner helps maneuver you until you’re facing him and straddling his thigh. It’s nearly ritualistic now, the way he wraps his lips around your hardened bud and sucks. There is no difficulty in pulling milk to the surface, sweetness hitting his tongue and rolling down his throat. He can feel some of it dripping from your other breast, running down his hand, and when he squeezes more out, you whine and rock your hips forward, rubbing your cunt over the muscle of his leg.

Reiner grunts and flexes, doesn’t understand his own need to be taken care of while wanting nothing more than to take care of you instead. He wants you to feed him, wants you to coddle him, and stroke his hair, and at the same time, he wants to hold you close and dote on you, reassure you over and over that he’s got you, he loves–

Once you’re drained on one side, Reiner moves to the other, breathing heavily, matching the way your hips are moving and making water slosh over the side of the tub. His cock is straining against his stomach, no friction to be found until you take pity on him and wrap your fingers around him.

Both of you growing desperate, Reiner fucks up into your hand while you rub against his thigh like an animal in heat, and the whole time, he remains attached to you, sucking you down until you come on his thigh and leak your last bit of milk straight into his mouth. A few more strokes and he’s bucking and spilling all over your hand, the two of you stilling save for the steady rise and fall of your chests as the water washes away the mess.

It takes several minutes and a lot of effort, but eventually the two of you are able to drain the tub and stand up, the new spray of the shower getting rid of any excess suds or fluids.

Reiner watches you towel off, tries to keep his hands to himself as you bend over to dry your legs, and he does a good job doing so, but he breaks when you start to blow dry your hair–on full display, and he can’t help but press up against you. You don’t seem to mind, just smile at him in the mirror and occasionally blow hot air in his face.

You change into jean shorts and a soft v-neck, and Reiner guesses the padded bra you put on offers more support than the ones made of t-shirt material you used to wear. He could offer even more support, but that’s irrelevant.

“Hey, while you’re getting dressed, think about what you want for dinner,” you tell him as he makes his way to the staircase, towel wrapped around his waist.

“Why?” he looks over his shoulder at you. “I just ate.”

The way you squint at him makes Reiner laugh loudly, your unimpressed, “Har har,” falling on deaf ears as he pats himself on the back for his awful joke.

“I’ll think about it, I promise.”

He jogs up to his room and tugs on a shirt and some sweatpants, pauses to reply to a couple text messages, then gallops back down to help you cook a meal neither of you have decided on.

“I have some shredded chicken ready to go, so what… pasta? Some kind of buffalo chicken dish?”

“Oh, I’m down for buffalo chicken,” Reiner nods, opening the pantry and asking, “Sides?”

He works with you like he has many times before, moving around each other, trading places, poking fun and laughing, and Reiner thinks that this is how it should be, isn’t it–this easy joy that just comes so natural to him when he’s around you. Is this what normal people feel all the time? Is life easier for them because they found what brings them this kind of happiness? Did he even have a chance before meeting you?

“Alright, your dad should be home soon,” you say, washing your hands, “and until then we can just watch something.”

Reiner is fine with that but not before tugging you close and kissing you. He needs to get it out of his system since, for the next few hours, he’ll have to act like he doesn’t want every part of you every minute.

Your fingers curl in his shirt, and you stand on your tiptoes and press into him like it’s exactly where you want to be. It’s where you should be, Reiner thinks, and if he had the means he would make it so, convince you to pick up your life and run away with him like a couple of dumb kids.

That’s not possible, though, so for now he’ll just have to do what he can to show you how much he cares for you–how much he loves you because fuck, it is a lot.

Roland gets home and goes about his evening routine of kicking off shoes and loosening his tie. When he bends to kiss you, Reiner looks away and runs his tongue over his teeth, waiting for the two of you to break apart before he gets up and helps you bring food to the table.

Chit-chat about the restaurant takes over, two cooks almost getting into a fight, how incompetent the hosts are, and Reiner wonders why his father does it if it’s all so tiresome, but then Roland begins talking about the birthday party that came in and the way everyone was laughing and cheering when the servers performed their little celebration song.

“Girl couldn’t have been older than thirteen, and you could see how embarrassed she was–” he chuckles.

“At that age, having that many people looking at you is mortifying,” you add, and Reiner agrees. He doesn’t even know if he could handle a restaurant full of people staring at him at this age.

“Yeah, well, even with her hands covering her face, I could see her smiling, so… I think she had fun. Definitely seemed happy about the big slice of cake I brought out.”

“As she should be, that cake is so good,” you say wistfully.

Roland laughs, reminding you, “You can have it any time you want, honey, you’re the one who told me to stop bringing it home.”

Reiner watches the two of you go back and forth, you claiming you had to stop because you were gaining weight and Roland insisting he didn’t care, and then Reiner watches as his dad’s gaze dips to your chest, and he has to bite his tongue.

“I mean, you look great now. I don’t know what it is, but your tits are–”

“Roland!” you shout, going wide eyed and stiff, and even Reiner’s cheeks heat up.

“What? I’m just trying to say they’re bigger, and if the cake will make them even–”

“Would you–! Your son is right here!”

Reiner just tries to hide his grin, gathering his empty plate and standing up. “Yeah, I’m just gonna…”

“He doesn’t mind talking about it, do you, Reiner?” Roland calls out, voice airy with laughter.

“I mean, I’m a guy–” who has spent an absolutely inordinate amount of time playing with those tits, “–so, no, I don’t mind, but uh…”

At the sink, he looks up and levels his gaze with yours, smiles at the way you’re crossing your arms over your chest and pouting.

“I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything,” he finishes, winking at you before turning the water on and rinsing his dishes.

Roland resumes his light-hearted teasing, making sure to tell you that he loves everything about your body and all kinds of bullshit Reiner has to tune out, but it’s easy to ignore.

Because Roland doesn’t really know shit, does he? He doesn’t know exactly how perfect your body is. He hasn’t seen the way it can nurture someone, and he doesn’t know the way you taste. Not like Reiner does.

If you’d asked him when he was younger what he wanted to be when he grew up, Reiner would have given all stupid answers–athlete, musician, soldier. Dreams of a child.

But, now he is grown, and if asked again, he would say that he just wants to be happy. He wants to be happy, and he wants to be happy with you.

#reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanficion #tw:stepcest #tw:pseudocest #tw:mommykink #tw:breastfeeding #tw: mental health #tw: depression #tw: sucidal ideation #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #snk x reader

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Note

Prompt- someone in class 1A bodyswaps with kirishima. For some reason they don't/can't tell their class. Whoever is in kiri body (your choice) has to deal with soft baku who either is about to confess or is already secretly dating kirishima

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD. JUST TAKE IT. with love.

The alarm went off (supposedly) at exactly six o’clock in the morning just like it did every other morning from what felt like the beginning of time. But the tune that drifted over into his ears sounded a bit strange today, and the sheets felt a bit scratchier and heavier than he remembered them being, and - probably most importantly to note - Izuku hadn’t even needed to twitch a single muscle that morning before the blaring noise was being cut off again on its own and the room was plunged back into stifling silence.

Which all lead to the objectively horrifying conclusion that there was someone else in this bed with him.

Izuku tried not to notice how frantically his heart was pattering away inside his chest, and he kept his eyes closed to maybe continue to give off the absolutely false pretense of still being asleep, but it was no use.

He was effectively freaking out.

Why did this kind of stuff keep happening to him? First it was Aoyama leaving him cheese outside on his balcony and now this? Should he be telling somebody about these incidents? It was starting to feel like maybe it was time for him to tell somebody. All Might, maybe? Principal Nedzu? His mom?

But… that alarm… it hadn’t been set to the sound he was used to.

And these bed sheets... they were so familiar somehow...

Izuku swallowed down his rattled nerves as quietly as possible before he unfurled one of his shaking fists to touch more prominently at the heavy comforter currently all tangled up around his limbs that felt too warm, so very careful to avoid shifting too obviously or accidentally bumping into whoever the hell was next to him.

No... Izuku knew these sheets. The way that the material caught on the pads of his fingers and pulled at long forgotten memories too blurry in his adrenaline-filled state to properly see them, and that smell! He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose, and he recognized all of them. His brain prodded him with useless bombardments of dismembered images. A pillow. A blanket. A couch. A kitchen. A color. A voice.

Oh. No.

This was Kacchan’s room.

Why the hell was Izuku in Kacchan’s room?!

Why the hell was he in Kacchan’s bed?!?!

These were the exact same sheets, the same rough texture, the same familiar smell of a subtle bleach and a smoldering stack of firewood that had been ingrained into his memories since before he was old enough to even be fully self-aware of such significant sights and sounds and sensory triggers.

But this hand...

Izuku wiggled his fingers as carefully as he dared to, but it all felt wrong. The wrist was too wide, the tendons in his forearm were too strong and sturdy, like they’d never been strained or bruised before in their entire lives, fresh and limber and toned.

No. None of this was right.

“Oi, we fuckin’ gettin’ up or what?” Kacchan’s hoarse, early-morning voice cracked somewhere beside him before an equally rough palm smacked hard into his bare shoulder and startled Izuku’s eyes wide open with a chaotic lurch in the opposite direction as he rushed to sit up and put as much distance between them as possible.

Oh wow. Yeah. This was Kacchan’s room alright.

That poster used to be in his bedroom back at his parent’s place, and that snowboard leaning against the dresser in the corner had his signature orange stripe down a solid black background, and this was definitely the same navy-blue comforter that Izuku had always hated the feeling of ever since he was old enough to hate the way that things felt, and - holy cow - there was Kacchan.

Sleep torn and shirtless with his wayward spikes all pressed down flat on one side while he lifted a broad hand up to rub his battle-scarred knuckles into one of his blurry eyes. His lips tucked down into a petulant scowl and his eyebrows furrowed in the middle of his forehead the longer that Izuku continued to sit and stare at him with an open mouth as though he had just watched him grow another head.

Kacchan hasn’t tried to explode him yet.

Why hasn’t Kacchan tried to explode him yet?

“The fuck are you lookin’ at me like that for?” Kacchan griped in a moody manner as he reached out for a second time and pushed at his shoulder again, lighter, and with fingers that tried to linger for far too long. Izuku jumped at the unexpected contact and tried to back completely out of his reach, but the bed was much too small, and suddenly he was tumbling off onto the floor with a resounding groan of pain that sounded nothing like his own.

“Oi! Kirishima! The fuck is the matter with you?” Kacchan snapped in clear agitation as he glared over the edge of the bed down at Izuku’s rumpled figure lying in a heap on the floor.

Did he just say Kirishima?

Okay. Something really crazy must have happened last night. Something quirk related. Definitely something quirk related.

Izuku righted himself on the ground before he held up his hands in front of his face and gazed at the strong, muscular vein protruding on his right forearm that was most definitely not his own, and yeah, okay, he was in Kirishima’s body right now. That’s what this was – they had switched bodies. Which meant that Kirishima was probably in Izuku’s room, waking up as him and - aw man - that meant that Kirishima was going to see all of the new posters and action figures that he’d been adding to his collection since the first time when everyone had forced their way into his room and -

HOLY CRAP - Kirishima was sleeping in Kacchan’s room?! Since when??

“Did you wake up feelin’ even more dumb today or what?! If you don’t answer me right fucking now -”

It was the familiar sound of Kacchan’s explosions popping in the center of his palms that finally jarred Izuku back to the present; back to the reality of this very hazardous situation that he seemed to have found himself in. There was no way that he could tell Kacchan who he really was right now. He would kill him. He would murder him in cold blood. He would blast him to death until there was nothing left of him and then he would blast away all of the rest of his pieces just for fun.

Nope. Kacchan could not find out about this. It was just out of the question.

“Sorry!” And okay, his voice did sound a lot like Kirishima’s, that was good. Lower and scratchier with an adolescent edge in the process of dropping a few more octaves before reaching full maturity someday. He could work with that. “I was just having a dream. You startled me… d-dude!”

Kacchan frowned down at him with a suspicious, squinted gaze and Izuku tried to look as innocent as possible as he slowly lumbered back up onto his feet that felt foreign and unsteady under his new weight.

Wow. Izuku was tall. It might have only been a few more centimeters, but the height difference was already astounding. It would have been kind of nice if he had swapped places with someone who happened to be taller than Kacchan, though… oh well.

Speaking of Kacchan, he tracked Izuku’s movements with a laser-light precision while Izuku tried to remember how it was that people normally stood (because he seemed to have forgotten how to) before Kacchan suddenly tch’ed and slumped back down into his pillow with a careless arm thrown up and under his head. He smacked the empty space where Izuku had just been laying with his other free hand and glared expectantly.

“C’m back,” he demanded in a decidedly less than threatening manner.

Wow. This was really weird. Kirishima slept in Kacchan’s bed and Kacchan was okay with it? How often did this happen? How did they even get to this point where it had become so natural for them to share a bed like this? To wake up together like this? When did –

Kacchan’s lip twitched impatiently and he raised his hand up in a slow, dramatic arch as though to catch his eye and make sure that Izuku couldn’t miss how obviously the gesture was being directed at him.

“Eijirou,” Kacchan grunted out, with an incredibly uncomfortable amount of eye contact, and then he smacked the empty space beside him again.

Oh… my god. It was a summons. Izuku could not do that. He could not handle just… getting back into bed with him?! Not when he’d finally managed to escape from it. There had to be an excuse. He had to find an excuse.

“I have to pee –”

“I could not care less,” Kacchan snarked back before his strong fingers gripped bunches of the comforter into a tight hold as though he were physically restraining himself from doing something that Izuku didn’t want to know what it could possibly be.

“I-I’ll just be a minute,” Izuku tried to stumble out as nonchalantly as possible as he took a hurried step in the direction of the bathroom.

A loud creak echoing from the other side of the room halted him dead in his tracks, and he whipped around to spot Kacchan as he rolled up onto his knees in one swift movement and leaned forward, reaching out and grasping the end of the bed with two strong hands and looking ready to leap off the mattress and block Izuku from continuing.

“You really gonna make me chase after you?” Kacchan snorted an amused sort of sound under his breath as his biceps flexed dangerously and he readied himself to pounce.

Oh no. Not chase after. Never ever chase after.

“N-no!” Izuku managed to stammer out, but it was far too late. Kacchan had already made the decision to end him.

Izuku scrambled back as quickly as possible in an attempt to keep some distance between them, but it closed before he even had the chance to register that it was gone and then Kacchan was just there, far too close far too quickly, leaning into his space and wow, Izuku was so uncomfortable right now that he couldn’t even pretend to keep making eye contact anymore as he fidgeted restlessly in his new cornered position.

“You’re bein’ weirder than usual,” Kacchan stated firmly, but he had finally stopped trying to come closer which was all-in-all a very good thing.

“Sorry,” Izuku squeaked out again, clenching and unclenching Kirishima’s hands over and over as he desperately tried to pull himself together. He couldn’t help feeling so incredibly blind-sided by all of this. He had so many questions and no way to ask them – no way to understand, to know.

How long would it take for Kirishima to wake up and try to come and find him? Surely he would understand the significance of how much Izuku was finding out about right now that clearly nobody was ever meant to find out about.

Holy crap, and if Kacchan knew that it was Izuku of all people who had been the first one to find out about it?! To have seen it all unfold up close and personal like this? Oh man, it was all so very bad.

“Stop apologizin’ to me, that’s what’s so fucking weird,” Kacchan grumbled out in the same bitter tone, and Izuku tried not to stiffen when he raised a hand and pressed it into the bookshelf next to his head, leaning his weight onto it and squinting down at him like they might share an extraordinary telepathic moment.

Izuku opened his mouth, ready to apologize again completely on instinct, but any noise that was about to come out got strangled and lodged in his throat when Kacchan’s other hand came up and his thumb promptly hooked under his jaw and clamped his mouth shut before a dangerous palm slid into place and covered his mouth completely. Izuku’s heart started to race in this unfamiliar chest and his eyes widened as he waited with vein-twisting anxiety for Kacchan to blow his entire face away with a single blast.

But… he never did.

“Seriously fucking stop, Kirishima. ’S pissin’ me off,” Kacchan demanded again; stern and final. “There ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, understand?”

Izuku tried to calm his labored breathing as he watched Kacchan watch him back for a long moment, and the fingers around his jaw tightened in an unfamiliar manner before they were suddenly gone again. Kacchan pushed himself away from the bookshelf and started towards the bathroom with a loud, gruff yawn.

“Better fuckin’ hurry up, cause I ain’t savin’ you any hot water for a second shower,” Kacchan warned without looking back as he turned on the light and ducked inside the other room.

Izuku’s entire body jolted back to life at the sound of the water in the shower turning on, and when it finally clicked in his head what that thinly veiled threat entailed, he tore off in the direction of the hallway at top speeds, practically sprinting out of the room and absolutely refusing to look back even when he could hear Kacchan shouting incredulously after him.

He so did not have the mental capacity to even try and unpack any of what he had just gone through. His one and only objective was to find Kirishima and switch their bodies back as soon as possible so that he could go on with the rest of his life and pretend like none of that had ever even happened in the first place.

Yeah… that sounded nice.

For once – Izuku just really, really didn’t want to know any more details.

--- full fic out now ---

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34034215

#kiribaku #kiribaku fic #kiribaku drabble #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #drabble prompts #bakushima #bakushima fic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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namnom35 · 2 years

Text

parasite

genre: angst

warnings: suicide attempt, bullying

summary: izuku should have died when he jumped off that building; he didn’t. he doesn’t know why.

ii.

Izuku awoke with a start.

He was...where was he?

Oh. The beach.

He was on Dagobah Beach, surrounded by piles of garbage. His school bag and shoes were… next to him?

Izuku wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. The last thing he remembers was jumping from the school roof. Was this beach some sort of afterlife?

Izuku should have died from that fall, so it was possible.

No, he was pretty sure his neighbor was one of the people on the path on the far side of the beach. Izuku was closer to the seashore, so he couldn’t be sure. It was likely, though.

Which meant he had survived. How?

No. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen! Izuku was supposed to die. He was supposed to be free from all of this.

A stranger tapping him on his shoulder snaps Izuku out of his thoughts. He turns to see a weak looking man with wild, blond hair smiling at him.

“Hello, young man. Might I ask what you’re doing on the beach at this hour.”

It took Izuku a moment to respond. “Just, thinking.”

“Son, you must have a lot to think about if you’re coming here to do it.” The man crouched down next to Izuku. “No one comes to this side of the beach anymore. The trash drives them all away.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I didn’t know it was all covered in trash. I haven’t been here since I was a small child.”

“It’s such a shame. The beach used to be so pretty. I’d love to clean it up, but I’m not exactly as strong as I used to be.”

“What if...what if I helped you?”

“Hmm? Of course, it would be great for you to help, but are you sure? Some of this is pretty heavy. Would your quirk let you lift it all?”

“Oh. I, uh, don’t exactly have one. Sorry, I’ll go now.”

Izuku got up to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him. “Nothing wrong with being quirkless, kid. Sit down, I won’t do anything to you for that.”

Izuku sat down hesitantly. “But, you don’t want my help anymore, right? I’m already weak, and I don't have a quirk either. How could I help clean all of this?”

“Not with that attitude you couldn’t. You know, a kid like you could do it if they cared enough. No offense kid, but you look like you could do with the extra muscle anyways.”

Maybe he could help. Yeah, Izuku could bring the smaller pieces away from the beach, at least.

“I’ll try sir.”

The man smiled in response, “Good kid. I appreciate you doing this for us. Now, you better run on home. I bet your parents are worried about you. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too, ” Izuku said quickly before grabbing his bag and making his way home quickly.

---

“Quirkless, huh? Sounds familiar. ”

Yagi Toshinori stared at the retreating form of the green-haired boy he had spoken to. What an odd kid. What could he be doing out there at his time?

Maybe a question he should have asked himself was why did he bother speaking to him?

If Toshinori knew it was because the boy reminded him of his own younger self, he did not acknowledge it.

---

As Izuku turned onto his street, his collar was grabbed from behind. Izuku turned around in surprise to see Bakugo behind him.

“Hey, dumb*ss! Where’ve you been?! Auntie Inko was worried sick!”

“K-kacchan?? Why are you here?”

“Auntie Inko came straight to us when she couldn’t reach your idiotic f*ck *ss last night or this morning. Everyone’s worried sick about you. What sh*t did you get yourself into this time?!”

“It’s nothing Kacchan, I’m sorry. I was just taking a walk and I guess my phone died.”

“So let me get this straight. You decided to take a walk yesterday in your f*cking school uniform? And you didn’t think to tell anyone where you were?!

“I-yes? Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize to me you sh*tnerd! Go tell your mom that you’re sorry! She’s the one who came crying to my parents over your sorry *ss.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, only interrupted by Katsuki grumbling at him a few times. Izuku wasn’t sure why he would come out to look for him. It was probably because his parents forced him to.

When they arrived at Bakugo's place, Izuku was greeted by his mom jumping up from the couch where she was sitting and enveloping Izuku in a bone-crushing hug.

“Izuku! Where have you been?! I was worried sick.”

“Hehe, sorry mom. I just wanted to take a walk and finish some homework I had. I think I just fell asleep at the beach. I only woke up this morning and headed home.”

“Please don’t do that ever again. I was worried sick.”

“Alright mom. I’ll tell you where I am from now on.”

“Thank you.”

Izuku and his mom headed home after that. The rest of the day was pretty silent. Izuku spent most of it in his room, pondering over the mysterious events of this morning. What saved him from dying? He knew he had jumped, but he wasn’t sure why he had survived. Or why he ended up at the beach of all places.

And that skinny, blond man at the beach. Why had Izuku even agreed to help him? That was now another thing he had to deal with. But Izuku wasn’t ever able to refuse someone who asked him for help. He guessed that he would just have to start going to the beach everyday now. Eh. Izuku could start tomorrow.

#bnha #mha #izuku midoriya #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #all might #izuku has a quirk #bnha fanfiction #quirk au

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

Text

PART 10 | previously: part 9 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, ✨SPICY CONTENT✨ (16+ is probably best) (reminder that characters are aged up)

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi hi!! ahhh the moment we’ve all been waiting for (or i have been at least☺️) this part is pretty long oops but honestly worth it ahah✨ thank you again for all the love on this, it means a lot 💕 enjoy xx

•

ten: say it

The day had come. It was the night before Prom. These agonizing months of planning would soon be over. All your hard work would be on display for your entire grade to see. But what seemed to be stressing you out the most was that you and Bakugou wouldn’t have an excuse to spend time together, or even talk. Odds were that the second the dance is over, you and Bakugou would go back to enemies, or worse, strangers. That thought didn’t sit well with you. After all, you now had such strong feelings for Bakugou. The last thing you wanted was for him to ignore you. Though you felt that was what probably would happen.

“Aren’t you all just so excited for tomorrow?” squealed Mina.

“Not like you haven't asked us the same question a hundred times,” groaned Denki. Mina huffed.

“Well excuse me for being excited for our first Prom.”

“And last gladly,” you added. Your friends looked at you.

“Damn Y/N you could at least pretend to be excited,” joked Kirishima. You laughed nervously.

“Ah sorry. I’ve never been one to like dances,” you admitted.

“Come on, everyone likes dances,” insisted Uraraka. You shook your head.

“I don’t. They are too loud, too crowded, too many idiots who think they can dance when they really can’t.”

“I don’t think anything could be much louder than your quirk Y/N,” laughed Sero. You playfully hit his arm.

“Whatever. Well if you dumb dumbs want a good Prom tomorrow, I have some last minute planning I need to take care of,” you explained. You got up the couch where you were seated and went over to your dorm room. You changed into your pajamas, just a t-shirt and shorts, and went down to the basement.

You had asked Bakugou for the keys earlier so you didn’t have to worry about the basement being locked. You opened the door, the familiar wave of dingy basement overwhelmed your senses just as it did the first time you went inside. You signed.

I definitely won’t miss the smell.

You went over to the endless piles of boxes, shuffling through them.

Where the fuck are they?

Finally you found just what you were looking for. The crowns for Prom King and Queen. Cheesy, yes, but some traditions never die. You grabbed the dusty crowns and a cleaning wipe and sat down on the table. You crossed your legs and began to clean off the plastic crowns.

“I figured I would find you down here.” You whipped your head around to see Bakugou.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you joked. Bakugou joined you on the table.

“Who do you think is gonna win?” asked Bakugou, pointing to the crowns.

“I know Aoyama has been practically begging people to vote for him so I hope he wins. I think Momo had mentioned wanting to win, but so did Mina so I guess we'll know tomorrow,” you explained. Bakugou nodded. He took the queen crown from your hands and placed it on your head.

“Yeah, you’d look pretty stupid if you won so hopefully no one votes for you,” he said. You yanked the crown off of your head and slapped Bakugou’s arm.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. Bakugou sighed.

“I guess this is kinda it,” said Bakugou. You looked down.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you whispered.

“You know what Y/N, you’re not all that bad really.”

“It only took you three years to realize that dumbass...but thanks,” you smiled.

The tension between you and Bakugou, well, you could cut it with a knife. He sat so close to you, your feet dangling over the edge of the table. Before you even realized what you were doing, you were moving. You hopped off of the table and stood in front of Bakugou, in between his legs.

“What are you doing dumbass-”

“Just shut up for a second.” You looked down, refusing to make any eye contact with him. You took the collar of Bakugou’s shirt with your shaky hands. You gripped onto it and pulled him towards you, still not looking at him. You weren’t even thinking at this point, just letting your actions take over.

“Y/N look at me,” ordered Bakugou. You took a deep breath and slowly lifted your head up. Your eyes met Bakugou’s. You began to slowly move closer to him.

“Katsuki I-I-”

“It’s past curfew, you two should be in your dorms.”

“Fucking hell-”

You immediately jumped away from Bakugou and both of you looked over to the familiar voice.

“Uh we’re sorry Mr. Aizawa,” you apologized.

“Whatever last minute planning you two need to do, you can do it in the morning. Get to your rooms.”

“Right.” You and Bakugou immediately sprinted out the door. Your skin burned, you were so embarrassed. How could you think to confess your feelings to Bakugou like that?

You caught your breath once you were back at the dorms. Bakugou stood next to you.

“Well goodnight Kat-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bakugou had grabbed your hand and was leading you towards his room.

“Katsuki its late-”

“Then you should be quiet.” Bakugou unlocked the door to his room and brought you inside. He instantly closed the door behind you and pinned your wrists onto the door.

“What the hell was that?” he huffed. His breath was heavy on your face, which didn’t help the burning sensation you felt all over you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“In the basement.”

“Well I-I...”

Bakugou looked you dead in the eyes.

“You were gonna kiss me, weren’t you?” Your eyes grew.

“W-what? Me? Kiss you? No…” Bakugou chuckled. He began to rub his thumbs up and down on your skin as he held your wrists to the door.

“Are you really getting timid on me Y/N? What happened to that hot-head personality we all love?” Bakugou was visibly taunting you. Every smirk, every glance up and down, every time he would tighten his grip on you. He wanted to see you flustered, and it was working.

“I-uh-” He laughed again.

“Come on princess, don’t play dumb with me. Go on, say it.”

“W-what?”

“I haven’t got all day Y/N.”

“Say what?” Bakugou licked his lips and whispered in your ear.

“Say that you want me just as badly as I want you.”

Before you could even think, words spilled out of your mouth.

“Make me.”

Bakugou tilted his head back, letting out a breathy: “Fuck…” before looking back at you.

“You really wanna play this game dumbass?” You gulped.

“Yes…”

Bakugou smirked at you, licking his lips once more.

“Alright, then how’s this?”

Bakugou let go of your wrists and snaked his hands around your waist, gripping around you tightly. He took another small shuffle closer to you. His thumbs rubbing the hem of your shirt, slowly exposing more skin.

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that Katsuki,” you said breathily, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“How about now?” Bakugou slowly moved his hands from your waist and down to your ass. You lost your breath at his touch. Bakugou brushed the tip of his nose against yours, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Nope,” you whispered. It was impressive enough that you could even form a sentence at this point. The entire room felt like a million degrees.

“Last chance Y/N…”

Bakugou removed one of his hands from his grip on you and brought it up to your face. He caressed your cheek softly. He then took his thumb and pressed it on your aching lips before painfully slowly dragging it down. He brought his face close to yours again, your lips almost touching.

“Go on...say it.”

You couldn’t take his teasing any longer. His hot breath mixing with yours. He was so close, smirking at you. He knew exactly what he was doing. So, there was only one thing for you to do.

“Fuck you Katsuki.”

You closed the gap between yours and Bakugou’s lips, kissing him intensely. Bakugou didn’t waste another second, immediately picking you up and carrying you towards his bed. He laid you down on your back, hovering over you as he continued to kiss you. You tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Eager much?” he teased, pulling his shirt over his head. His perfectly sculpted body was breathtaking to say the least.

“You’re staring Y/N.”

“I am not,” you huffed. You took your t-shirt, taking it off as well. Bakugou’s eyes grew as he looked at you just in your bra.

“Look who is staring now?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou dipped back down, kissing you again. You brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it. Bakugou began to trail his lips down to your neck, placing endless kisses all over you. He then began to suck on your neck, slowly.

“Maybe I’ll just have to spell my name all over you. Mark you up...make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he groaned against your neck. Chills trailed down your spine.

“Fuck Katsuki…”

“God I love it when you say my name-”

Bakugou continued to kiss your neck, marking you up as promised. You started to breath a little faster, your heart pounding. You brought Bakugou’s head back up to face you, bringing your lips to his.

It was everything you wanted and more. The way he kissed you. The way his skin was pressed against yours. It was magic.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly just to get him as to you as possible.

“God you’re so fucking gorgeous. Fuck princess-.” At this point, Bakugou was just spitting out whatever thoughts came to mind. You were intoxicating to him.

He tucked his arm under you, flipping you so that you were now straddling him. You held his warm face in between your rough hands. He gripped onto your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“Wait Katsuki I-I,” you broke away from the kiss for just a moment.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. You smiled, shaking your head.

“No not at all. It just um-” Bakugou sat up, having you sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“This is probably terrible timing but...Katsuki Bakugou, I think I’m in love with you,” you said nervously. Bakugou smiled.

“I know dumbass, I’m not stupid.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. You smiled shyly.

“That's all I wanted to say...we can go back to what we were doing.” Bakugou chuckled.

“So eager again.”

Your head rested on Bakugou’s chest as he traced his finger along your back. It had to be at least 3am.

“It’s way past your bedtime Katsuki,” you whispered.

“Who needs sleep when I’ve got you here,” he said. You looked up at him and smiled.

“We still do, silly,” You tapped his nose. Bakugou sat up.

“Hold on…” He got up from the bed and walked over to his closet.

“Here.”

“Your skull t-shirt?”

“Yeah…uh, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to-”

“Of course I want to wear it.” You slipped his favorite shirt on. A smile now appeared on Bakugou’s face.

“Y-you look good,” he said nervously, his cheeks flushed red. You chucked grabbing his arm to lay back down with you.

“Maybe we should get some sleep,” he smiled, rubbing your back again. You nestled your head into the crook of Bakugou’s neck.

“Hmmm okay…” you yawned. Bakugou chuckled.

“Get some rest dumbass.” Bakugou wrapped his arms around you as you laid on his chest. Your breath and his were perfectly in time. Bakugou waited until you were asleep for him to sleep as well. The both of you drifting to sleep with silly smiles plastered on your faces.

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @bokutory @complimentaryhugsgirl @cloudswritings @kriswu46 @neodnyl @evivn1 @jazzylove @mileven-reddie @whalerus @misssugarless @random-fandom-girl-24 @fanfiction-and-stress @ushiwakatrash @minhoswife @addictofsupernatural @the-shota-king-masayuki @freyafolkvangr @fourteenow @tamaguchi @lalayy @athenarosaline @blxck-coffee @katsukibabe @thatonegeekchick @that-chick212 @bibly @nxynxy @theunknownrandom @flustered-blue-eyed-sex-muffin @94potterhead @moonlightaangel @katusukisbitch2000 @secondchoicealwaysandforever @salsaedx @ukaisgratefulwhore if your name is bold i couldnt tag you ]

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boom-bakugou · 4 years

Text

‘Message Recieved” - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: This is a gift for @mcchristinaconlinobeyme who wrote me lovely little fanfic in return 💖

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: Stalker-ish and abusive tendencies from reader’s father, Bakugou’s filthy language

Summary: You thought your villainous father was out of your life for good. Until the letters began to arrive.

Word Count: 2.5k

masterlist

It was little things at first. You couldn’t help but notice your name on flyers when you would go into the city. When men would bump into you in the street and before you had time to apologise they’d have run off without a trace. U.A. knew of your fathers history which is why they felt it necessary to have you be under more protection at school.

Though soon enough you just began to think that all those little occurrences were nothing but that, your plagued mind worrying yourself that something was bound to happen. But the teachers were taking care of you, nothing was going to change that.

Until the letters began to come.

Suspecting it was another student leaving small love letters out for you, you didn’t particularly pay much interest in it. The notes saying things like ‘Hello Y/N’ and ‘I’ve missed you a lot’. But one night as you were fading into sleep you heard the small drop of paper onto your balcony. Itching your eyes you feigned awakeness to try and see above you if someone was there and dropped it onto your balcony below. But all the lights were off on the floor above. Opening the envelope your blood ran cold, your feet stepping back until you tripped and landed with a heavy thud.

When are you going to come back home to me Y/N?

Nothing could stop the wave of tears from flowing down your face or the choked sobs falling out your mouth, you could’ve woken up the whole floor but you didn’t care as the shock settled in. You were doomed. It wasn’t until there were loud raps banging on your door that took you out of your swampy wallowing. You didn’t even wipe your face as you went to open the door, your hands shaking as you twisted the door handle- expecting to see your father there.

“Can you keep the noise down idiot some people are trying to slee-'' Bakugou stood in front of your door, hair disheveled from his rudely awoken slumber. “What’s up with you?

It wasn’t common knowledge for a lot of the students to know about your father since you had been placed under witness protection. The teachers felt it better that way also as a means for the other students to not think of you any differently from themselves.

“I need to see Mr Aizawa.” Your hands had unbeknownst to you; crushed the paper. You’d been safe for so long, why now? Why when you’re finally happy why does it have to crawl right back up to you?

“Yeah.” His answer was curt but he could see you not even taking the effort to move, or even look him in the eye. Bakugou knew something was immensely off. “Look. I’ll take you there.”

Bakugou’s hand finds the small of your back as he tries to guide you towards the elevator so you two could head to Aizawa’s room. Bakugou took a short glance at you while you waited in the elevator. He didn’t like seeing you like this, pale, sickly. And your eyes looked like they wanted to set that small piece of paper alight. Right now, he would give anything to take you out of how you’re feeling.

When you finally reach Aizawa’s dorm room, you don’t even lift an arm to knock so Bakugou proceeds for you. It takes a few moments for him to awaken and answer the door, his eyes gleaming with anger as to why you’re here.

“You two better have a good reason for being up on a school ni-.”

“I think my dad is trying to get me back.” You uttered.

It was the first time you spoke in that whole few minutes of making your way up the dorms and it felt like years of silence. Aizawa’s gaze lifted with a look of worry, asking you to continue.

“I didn’t really think about it at first, but I’ve seen things when I’ve been outside. Posters with my name on it and small threats. I figured it was just something dumb but it had to be him. A few nights ago I started getting these letters on my balcony, they were harmless so I thought one of the other students was playing a prank on me. Until I got this one.”

Your hand shakily lifted the crumpled envelope and Aizawa took it and scanned it over. Sighing as he prepared himself to speak.

“Do you think he’s trying to get you to join him in his criminal activity?” Aizawa asked, yet before you could speak Bakugou piped up; clearly confused by the interaction.

“Criminal activity? Y/N? Is someone going to tell me what’s happening here?” Bakugou did his best to keep the volume of his voice lowered but it still stuck out sharply in the empty halls. His hands crackling with annoyance as he struggled to understand the context.

“Bakugou that’s enough from you.” Aizawa’s eyes gleamed of his quirk and the small popping and smell of caramel soon dissipated. “You’ve heard enough now go back to your dor-“

“Actually Mr Aizawa, I’d prefer it if he stayed.” Your voice sounding slightly more confident than before, looking to Bakugou who’s shock rang in his eyes. He was just happy that you wanted him there. His defensive presence was almost… calming.

Aizawa acknowledged your wishes and asked you both to wait as he contacted the other teachers to be on the watch out for any disturbances on school grounds. He agreed that he’d take the night to keep watch but the teachers tomorrow would have to set up a schedule.

“Now I know you can handle yourself Y/N, but I’m trusting you Bakugou to make sure she gets to her dorm safely.” His eyes shot between the two of you, sympathy washing over you as he glanced at your sickly expression. “We’ll keep everyone safe.”

And with that Bakugou walked you both back to your dormitories. Not wanting to deal with the silence for any longer, Bakugou broke it with a sigh before speaking.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but your dads a villain?”

You nodded, you knew everyone would do their best but your father was sneaky, manipulative. He played games no one knew how, and it terrified you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? All the messages, the ways to get into your head. It was suddenly all at once eating you alive, the feeling of eyes all over your body.

“Thank you. For- staying with me.” You sigh, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the darkness of your room. Not even giving Bakugou a chance to say ‘you’re welcome’ as you shut your door. Sliding your curtains closed and double checking to make sure that everything was locked, you succumbed to a worrying slumber. The thought of your father in the front of your mind.

Throughout the days, things wore off. Your father clearly having taken a hint that security at UA had increased since his last letter. But nothing would stop him from having you back with him. And that was when the text messages started.

‘You know the fates your friends will meet if you don’t find me Y/N’

‘You can’t hide from me forever’

You hadn’t told the teachers of the texts for some moral high ground you had set upon yourself that you could push through it. He wasn’t in your life anymore and bu hacking into your phone wasn’t any different. Until the last text.

‘Tomorrow. They’ll all be dead because of you if you don’t show your face at the park, midnight. Don’t think I won’t.’

Attached to the message were selfies of you and your friends from 1-A. Laughing, smiling, having a good time together. But it was the last few photos that caught your attention. Pictures not from your phone. Photos of you and Bakugou taken from distances away, just days when you were all out shopping and hanging out on weekends together with the rest of the Bakusquad. But with every swipe of your finger, the pictures got closer and closer.

‘Katsuki Bakugou right? Don’t think I won’t blow him to smithereens too. Take up my offer or watch your friends and your little boyfriend’s faces be splattered all over TV screens at my hands.’

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was it. You had to join him. For the safety of everyone. Packing a small bag you slipped out onto your balcony, manoeuvring ways to get down and out of UA Heights in the dark. You stifled sniffles as you snuck out, probably never going to see your friends again, and Bakugou… he was rough around his edges, yes, but he was the only one who knew. Who knew what you had been through, the torture your father had put you through. You knew you couldn’t burden him with the texts you had been getting though, he’d been your therapist enough. You had to leave. For him.

Your father didn’t give any descriptors on what park to head to, but you had your hunch. It was one that he used to take you as a kid with your mother. But that memory was all but a dream. Walking around the dimly lit paths, you searched for any sign of him before an arm tugged you into the rough of a bush. Expecting this to be your fate, you lent into the attacker.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The harsh whisper of Bakugou’s voice was weirdly music to your ears. His eyes had bags underneath them, an abnormal sight for the boy who went to bed at 8pm every day.

“What’re you doing here?” You shot back, keeping the hushed tones. Knowing your father would kill Bakugou on sight if he saw him here.

“Stopping you from doing something stupid, idiot!” His hands gripped tightly at the sides of your shoulders before dropping them as he realised he might’ve been scaring you more than he should’ve been.

“I knew something was up. I fuckin’ knew it.” Bakugou shook his head, you couldn’t read him in the darkness of the leaves surrounding you both. “I knew he wouldn’t just up and leave. Fuck-“

“Why did you follow me Bakugou?” Your voice was angry and you could see the look of shock on his face. It took him a few moments to answer before he gave a sigh.

“To take care of you idiot.” His voice is but a mere grumble, but it’s as clear as day in the quiet of the park. “You don’t have to suffer in silence. I- I’m worried about you.”

He shoots a side glance at you, obviously worried about your wellbeing. His eyes dance over your face so delicately, taking in every small aspect of it. As if he’s studied it for hundreds of years and knows each freckle by memory.

“You can’t be here.” You didn’t even realise you were crying, the look of realisation set upon his face.

“He’s here isn’t he?” His question is simple enough but it feels like a ton of bricks on your neck as you try to nod.

“Y/N~” your dad's voice rings out in the dark and it sets the two of you upright. The anger washes over his face and you realise that he can no longer hold back, and you can’t even stop him. Nothing ever stops Bakugou.

“You think you can just lure her away you freak?” Bakugou’s words reek of venom, his figure slipping out from the shrubbery, palms crackling like 1000 party poppers. “You’ll never lay a finger on her!”

Bakugou is the first to blast, you can’t help but hide in the bushes as the fight ensues, too terrified to show your face in case your dad swoops you away. But… what about Bakugou?

“Where is she?” Your father’s voice rings like a lion’s roar, it sends bile up your throat.

“Somewhere you’ll never find her!” Bakugou lies through his teeth, hoping to buy some time.

Before long it’s an all out flashy quirk fest. Your father's quirk being that of scorching energy beams, not an easy fight for the two. It didn’t take too long before your father eventually clipped Bakugou with one of his beams, sending him flying into a tree.

“Katsuki!” You scream out, revealing your hiding place. Scrambling over to Bakugou’s slumped over body you try to wake him up as your father chuckles and stomps over to you. You manage to throw him back for a few blows, keeping him away from Bakugou and yourself before you hear voices. The teachers. The sight of your father being captured by Aizawa’s scarf couldn’t help but feel like a breath of fresh air.

“They get here okay?” Bakugou chokes out from underneath you, his eyes squinting at the heroes.

“You called for help?” Your face was wet with tears, once falling because of fear and desperation and now just happy that Bakugou was seemingly alright. “That’s not like you.”

“I didn’t care what happened to that fuckin’ idiot.” His hand lays atop yours, switching his sight to you with a small smirk played upon his lips. “Just that you were safe.”

“Katsuki I-“

“I care about you a lot Y/N.” Bakugou sits himself up, wincing, so he can look you better in the eye. “I just, wanted to make sure that you were okay because… well I like you okay?”

The admission seems to hurt him but feels like a relief off of his chest.

“You were there for me Bakugou when I needed it.” You pull him delicately into a hug, the explosive smell of caramel and firewood playing upon your senses. “And… I’m thankful for that. Plus I- like you too.”

“You’re not just saying that because I saved your life are you idiot?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“No Bakugou. As I said, you’re there for me. And that’s why I like you… a lot.”

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugou smut #bakugou fluff #bakugou oneshot #bakugou fic #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou fanfic #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou headcanons

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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

Text

Nothin’ On You // Sero x Shy!Reader

A/N: Kinda long! But I owe Sero for taking so long on finishing this! Hope you like it! ^^

The first time you meet is for a school project

In middle school he was the cool guy that got along with pretty much everyone. At first you would hide away, which was easy with a quirk like yours. You would turn translucent and mute according to your mood, so every time you tried to muster up the courage to talk to him when he passed you by in the halls, you would completely disappear. It was a game of chance to see who was paired with who when the fated project came up, but when you were paired with Sero you almost entirely disappeared off of the face of the earth. You begin to wonder if you could escape class without being noticed when he makes his way over and plops down in the seat next to you.

"Name's Hanta Sero, what's yours?"

Your face flushes, body turning translucent for a split second before you take his hand and shake it. "It's..." Your voice fails you. Of course it had to happen now. Your quirk just had to be a two-in-one kind of deal.

Lifting a finger, you scribble your name down on a loose piece of paper and offer it to him.

He looks at the scrap of paper with curiosity. “Cute name.” He looks back to you. “Is that your quirk? The..?” He motions to his body and mouth.

You nod sagely.

He beams. "Nice to meet you."

The tension in your shoulders lessen. Grabbing your textbook and one of your notebooks made for this type of situation, you write down several questions before pointing to the textbook pages.

He reads each message, surprisingly more patient with your quirk than others. Some expected you to push past it or get over your shyness, but he went with it. It made you feel.. valid. Like your quirk wasn't a burden.

“Sounds like we'll be having a few all nighters on this one, Mr. Takeshi expects waaay too much of us if he wants this done in a week.” Sero looks at you curiously. “What do you think? We could do it at one of those 24/7 cafes nearby.”

Feeling yourself relaxing, you realize you've returned to being opaque as you nod in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

His smile brightens. "Hey, your voice is pretty cute too chica!"

This time you're glad you disappear from sight, hands covering your mouth as he laughs heartily.

The project was an odd success

After your initial shock and shyness of being paired up with Sero, you both were a rather successful couple when it came to academics. You split the work equally and helped each other when either of you needed it. While he wasn't always the brightest, he always managed to put a smile on your face when you were studying long into the night, when your eyelids grew too heavy and your will to study lessened. When the day of the presentation came and you both took to the front of the class, it was his support that kept you from disappearing out of fright. However, now that it was over, you were surprised he still wanted to hang out with you, even if it wasn't required anymore.

“Oi, chiquita bonita! Over here!” Sero waves to you from across the classroom. He was sitting in his normal spot with his usual clique, and normally you didn't mix with them. They seemed nice, but it was always awkward when you joined him. You felt like they only tolerated you because of him.

Gathering your items, you shuffle out of your desk space and join him, blushing slightly as he scoots his seat to the side to make space for you right next to him. You could feel the burning stares of the girls surrounding him. You held on though, focusing on staying opaque, knowing he would try getting to the bottom of why you were nervous. Oh if only he knew how hated you were by his clique of girls.

“We did pretty good on the presentation didn't we?” He asks while draping an arm across the back of your chair, his body completely at ease. “Even the cabrón was impressed.”

You smack him lightly on the back of his head. You didn't know a lot of spanish, if at all, but you picked up some slang from the boy next to you. “Don't be mean Hanta, he's not all that bad.”

The girls’ hiss at your action, but Sero only laughs and tugs you closer under his arm. “Lo siento cariño. I'm sorry, but it's not my fault he has a stick up there.” He gestures upward with his middle finger.

You knew if you tried speaking, your voice would have fizzled out like a drop of water on a hot stove.

After the project you two were nearly inseparable, everyone knew you and Sero were an item (even if you both didn't see it)

“Dios mio! What did we do to earn this princesa?”

You turn around to the source of the voice, pausing on decorating the stage of the auditorium. It was Sero, you could tell immediately by his voice, but what you didn't understand was the context of his words. What was he talking about?

The confusion must have shown on your face as he moves closer and climbs onto the stage, walking up to you until he was by your side. “You're all dolled up. What's the occasion?” He holds you by the shoulders and peers behind you as well, earning a pinch on his cheek.

“It's the dance this week, remember? But the play is before, so we have to set up so it's all ready for the night. That means dress rehearsals too.” You were a part of the theatre group, an odd choice for someone who disappears when they get stage fright, but you were heavily invested in what you did. It was a passion you indulged.

“Aye, yeah I forgot about that.” Sero rubs his neck and looks at the ground, deep in thought. At least for two minutes. After the two minutes he peeks at you with a mischievous grin. ”Wanna go to the dance with me?”

To your credit, you manage to stay opaque while your heart beats wildly in its cage. “Thats a dumb way of asking me out.” You mutter while sliding down from the stage, nearly cutting yourself on one of the loose planks.

“¡Cuidado!” He holds his arms out, ready to help you down. “I don't want my date to get hurt you know?”

“I can still dance in a cast.” You brush off his concern with a rare smile. Crushes aside, you appreciated his friendship and concern.

“The fuck is this, Romeo and Juliet? Get a room!” A classmate yells from the lighting stage, laughing when you flip them the bird.

Sero joins in the laughter, leaving soon after apologizing to your classmate. Said classmate meets you in front of the stage, arms crossed and looking back and forth between you and the now closed auditorium door.

“So are you guys dating now?”

“No, we're just friends.” You rub your neck, feeling the translucency crawl up your neck. But it couldn't wipe away the smile on your face.

You gravitate towards each other

Stretching your arms in front of you, you twist your body to the right and sigh as you feel a pop. You didn't particularly like gym class but it was nice to get a good stretch.

Looking around at the field in front of you, you wave at the occasional friendly face. You had friends in this class, which made it even more bearable.

"Hola princesa!"

Sero?

Turning around you grin at the familiar face. You run to the fence blocking you in, gripping it as you watch your friend run to you. He holds your hand through the fence, a normal occurance and a habit you've grown fond of.

"What are you doing here?" You question while turning your hand in order to squeeze his, heart fluttering when you see the small tinge of pink on his cheeks.

"Just here to say hi. My next class is in E block." He peers over your shoulder. You were about the same height, somewhere around 5'4, so you relished being able to see him eye to eye (mostly) while it lasted. He grew a bit over the break of your first year. "Playing anything?"

"Volleyball." You shiver. "I'm team captain, but I suck at it." Who would you pick? Would you actually be a good leader? You feel your voice leave you as you begin to rival that of an onion skin, growing more and more invisible.

A small pinch on the back of your hand pulls you back to reality. Sero waggles a finger, tisking at you. "Don't sweat it, you'll do great." He squeezes your hand before backing up, walking backwards as he heads to class. "Just breathe princesa!"

"Got it." You whisper to yourself, waving to him as you watch him enter the building across from you.

Sadly by the end of your second year, he had grown taller, leaving you craning your neck to look at him.

When he entered U.A. you still cheered him on

Graduating middle school was tough when you split off into different schools. You knew you would keep in contact, but it was so much harder to spend time together when you didnt attend the same schools. Still, with each video chat and phone call, with each text, you showered him with all your love and support. He wanted to be a hero, and you were happy to support him with that dream!

You: Saw you on the tv, you were amazing!

Sero: thanks 😙 still lost tho 😅😅😁😁

You: Yeaaah🤔 but you still looked really cool! Still, didn't realize you were strong enough to pull that Todoroki guy that way 🧐

Sero: Im just full of surprises princesa 😘

Sero mentioned you often to his friends

You were mentioned in at least one conversation a day, it didn't matter the context, you just sort of popped up. What could he say, he loved you! You were his go to for support and someone he truly valued. Plus you weren't crazy like his classmates.

“You keep talking about her but we've never actually seen her.” Mina leans forward on her palm as she sips at her milk tea. “You're not lying about her are you?” She wiggles her eyebrows, eliciting a laugh from Sero.

“Course she's real.”

Kirishima lays his head on the table of the booth they were at, looking at Sero with confusion. “Got proof? It’s not manly to lie to your friends bro.” Sure he believed in his friend, but after a year of just hearing about a special girl, it was hard to keep believing without some form of proof.

Sero holds up a finger as he pulls out his phone. Placing it flat on the table, he pushes the power button and watches his friends faces light up as they view his lock screen. It was a picture of you.

“Woah! Who's the hot chick?” Kaminari asks excitedly as he returns from the bathroom. “Is she single?”

Sero powers off his phone before smacking a piece of tape on his friend’s mouth, surprisingly feeling a twinge of anger at his words. You were his best friend! He had to protect you!

On the inside he knew his anger was from deeper feelings, but for now it was just from the fact that he may need to defend your innocence from his own schoolmate. You were so shy, he knew Kaminari’s flirting would be too much for you.

“Yeah, no cabrón. She's taken.”

You were there for his graduation

Needless to say, you were at his graduation! It was difficult to find him amidst the crowds of families wanting to take pictures of their children and siblings, and even some heroes wanting to say their goodbyes! You were absolutely bombarded and neigh invisible after overthinking the whole thing, so when you finally found him you were stunned into invisibility when his friends jumped you.

“Ohmygodohmygodit'sactuallyyouuuuuu!” Mina screams as she pulls you into her, squeezing the life out of you before you can get a breath out.

The boys were much gentler, but just as excited. Especially Kaminari.

“Hey it’s the hot girl- more like the gone girl, what's happening?” He questions as you disappear from sight, your voice completely AWOL.

Sero smacks his face as he curses his friends out. “Chingues! Give my girl some space hijos de perras!”

Mina gives you enough space to breathe but holds you much like one would a hostage. For a hero course student, you believed that she would have done very well as a villain.

“Nope! We get to meet this girl of yours, Tape Boy!” She looks down at you, squinting to try making out where your face would be, unknowingly glaring directly at you. “He talks about you almost nonstop yet you haven't visited us at all, how unfair is that?” Mina grins.

You come into focus, your voice a mere squeak as you brush some hair out of your face. “A little? I should've visited..” You introduce yourself to his cadre, your name stumbling off your lips.

“Hot and shy? What a cutie!” Kaminari hugs you from your available side where Mina wasn't holding you in a headlock.

A whip of tape smacks the blonde and sends him reeling back to Sero who holds him in a similar hold Mina was holding you.

Your friend ruffles Kaminari's hair in a somewhat violent manner, grinning at him with threatening eyes. "Go easy on her cabrón. She's not used to so many people doting on her."

They were doting on you? You tilt your head and look at Mina who was still examining you. "I don't think I deserve to be doted on, that's not what's going on here right?"

"Of course not, but you and I are gonna have some girl time while the boys get us a spot at a restaurant! You're gonna tell us all about how you and Tape Boy here met!" She chirps excitedly, pulling Bakugou in with her free arm as he tries escaping past her.

You feel a drop of sweat as you accept your fate, watching Bakugou attempt to wrangle his way to freedom. "Sure, sounds nice."

Sero made it rather big as a hero, see, he wasn't the strongest hero but he was very popular

He had always been popular, so it made sense to you when his ranking kept going up and up until he was in the high twenties. You knew he was good at what he did, being a source of smiles even in dark times, but it always brightened your day when you heard your coworkers mention him in passing.

“Have you heard about the hero Cellophane yet?”

“Yeah! I think I saw him around yesterday. He was eating soba with Shoto.”

You look backwards to see the faces of your junior coworkers. They were in a different department than you, but you enjoyed chatting with them every now and then. Mostly when it came to heroes as you had somewhat of an insiders look.

Had you forgotten to mention you were friends with Sero- Cellophane?

You debated whether to tell them over tea one day until you heard their next words.

“He’s kind of hot isn't he?”

... Maybe you would keep the secret to yourself.

As a hero he makes time to drop into your life, sometimes randomly

What else was to be said? Really?

A blur flashes by your face, causing you to yelp in shock, stepping back and nearly falling onto the unforgiving pavement. Luckily, said blur created a swing of tape just in time to catch you, pulling you forward and bringing you into his arms.

“Lo siento mi corazón! I didn't mean to make you fall.” Sero grins at you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. He definitely meant to make you fall, you could see the mischief behind his eyes.

“As if Hanta.” You pinch him on the cheek, a smile coming to your face when he whines. “Look I’m happy to see you but I've got to get to work on time today, no funny business.”

“No funny business?” He repeats after you, rubbing his chin in thought. “Then I guess I’ll have to escort you to make sure you get to work on time.”

Your eyes widen as you feel his hold grow tighter and more secure as he holds you flush against him. Oh no. “Wait Sero-!”

And just like that, you were in the air, swinging from building to building with him propelling you both forward. You attempt to scream at him but your voice is lost along the way as you hear the clicking of cameras.

Oh god they were taking pictures.

“Niña don't worry! We’re almost there!”

Luckily for you, you were never caught on camera. So your quirk did have some uses.

The media was sure he had a partner

The photos really ended up getting him in hot water as every interview he did, the topic of romance was brought up. Fans would notice he would avoid the topic of love, but on his social media he would constantly mention a girl. No one knew who this girl was, but fans and news stations were determined to wring it out of him.

Once the red light of the on-air button was out, the reporter in front of Sero swiftly covers the mic pinned to her lapel and scoots to the edge of her seat. Sero watches in quiet amusement as the whole station becomes silent. Weird. But he knew why they grew quiet so fast. They wanted information, and if even the news anchor waiting for his time to come up stopped his boisterous laughter, it must've been important.

“Off the record. Do you have a secret sweetheart stashed away somewhere Cellophane?”

Oh. This again.

He stretches his arms in front of him as he runs through his normal excuses and dodges for this question. All still viable and working, but.. Maybe he could give a little hint. The media was on his ass about this after those photos were taken of him and his girl, so it was only right to clear the air right?

“Turn on the cameras. I’ll give this to you.”

You were crushed when he admitted he did have a sweetheart (of sorts) and even more so when the media suspected it to be the Stealth Hero: Invisible Girl

The media did end up getting a bit of info out of him and when you heard about this special girl your heart couldn't help but crack under the thought of him distancing himself from you to be with her. You treasured your friendship with him, romantic or not, you didn't want it to end. Because of this fear, you are the one who starts to close yourself off.

“Chiquita, what's wrong?” Sero follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, a bowl of chocolate coated pretzels in your arms. “Are you sick? I can stop by the pharmacy for you.”

“N-No, its okay. I'm not sick..” You back up when you see his arm stretched outward, flinching when the back of his hand meets your forehead.

He hums. “No fever.”

You push past him, abandoning the bowl of chocolatey treats on the counter. You felt yourself becoming frustrated. Not with him, but with yourself. His opinion meant the world to you- he was your best friend! And you were letting this relationship of his get to you. How petty could you be? He did nothing wrong. In fact, you should be happy for him, finally dating his high school sweetheart.

But the thought of him dating Invisible Girl- the irony of him dating an invisible girl- was just too much for your heart to take at the moment.

You had no way to take out this frustration. So it was reflected onto him.

“Cariño-”

“Please!” You slam your hands on the counter, voice fading in and out as you hide your face in the collar of your turtleneck. “Please.. Just go.”

The apartment was quiet, filled with only your ragged breathing as you hold in your rampant emotions. When he leaves with a silent goodbye, you're unsure if the breaking sound surrounding you is just in your head or if something truly reached into you and tore your heart to pieces.

He makes it very clear who that sweetheart is

Finally, he announces just who captured his heart. It was live on a jumbo screen, playing as you were out getting “groceries” for the nights dinner.

The hollow feeling in your chest wasn't easing, and it definitely wasn't made any better when you saw the Stealth Hero on the television next to her team. Though your calves were certainly doing better with how much speed walking you would do when you passed by convenience stores with tabloids lining their windows, photos of Sero and Invisible Girl on the front.

Work went by dreadfully slow, and lunch went by just as uneventfully as usual. You ignored the chatter of your coworkers, uninterested in what they had to say.

After the report came out, no one was talking about the top heroes anymore. They all were focused on the potential lovers and what other secret admiring the heroes had in their ranks. If other heroes were hiding their own affairs. If the popular Cellophane could hide his romance, maybe someone like Deku or Shoto could be too.

“We’re going out for drinks later, want to come with?” Your junior asks as she slings her purse strap over her shoulder. “Jin is paying~”

You respond with a polite smile. “No thanks. I’m going straight home.”

- - -

Going straight home was the plan, but in the end you had to make a quick trip to the nearest grocery store for dinner. Something quick, as you didn't have the energy to make something complicated.

Which meant you ended up buying only instant ramen.

It was on your way back, crossing a busy sector when the sound of your friend on the jumbo screen caught your attention.

“She's my corazón. Mi vida.”

You look up at the screen, stopping in your tracks.

Sero was blushing, a shy smile on his face, but his eyes were lit up with joy. You heart pulses rapidly in your chest, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You had never seen him so flustered, it was always the other way around.

“I’ve loved her since middle school. I never wanted to drag her into this, so I never confirmed her name- but its not Invisible Girl!” He amends quickly, looking at the reporter with a knowing look. He wags his finger, his infamous cocky smile replacing the twitterpated look from earlier.

“Sure, she has a similar quirk, which is how those photos came to be.” He leans back in his chair.

“You want to know her name right? I guess it wouldn't hurt to say. I’ve kept it hidden for so long, but here it is.”

And then he said it.

He said your name.

Looking directly at the screen, he smiles gently, eyes full of the warmth you've been craving ever since you were paired for that project years ago.

“Ella es mi tesoro. She is my treasure.”

Extra:

Racing home, you're not surprised when you find the lights on in your apartment. In fact, it only spurs you forward.

Yanking open the unlocked door, you drop your groceries and launch yourself into Sero’s arms as he held them open for a hug.

He was sweaty from rushing from the news station to your apartment, but neither of you were concerned about it as you laugh. You laugh at the tape still clinging to his clothes, you laugh at the ramen spilling out of your grocery bags, you laugh at your tears.

You laugh at how long it took for you both to finally admit how much you loved each other.

“Mi corazón.” He pulls back from the hug and cups your cheek, looking at you with love softened eyes. “I love you.”

Tears brim your eyes.

You speak in the clearest voice you've ever spoken in. Skin bright and flushed pink.

“I love you too.”

102 notes · View notes

pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad), (Anger), (Grief)

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions. That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

“His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates.

Nothing had changed.

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students. They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting. That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights. He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin. The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future.

“Hey Bakugō!”

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!?

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns. The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room.

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse. You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

“What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing, “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

#bnha #mha #boku no academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #Katsuki Bakugō #‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies #graphic descriptions of violence #angst #bakugou swears and gets into fights #coarse language #fanfiction #fanfic #something sad au

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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Hmm, still thinking about character profiles… might try and do something with that after this arc, since I didn’t do it before the USJ arc. Or maybe I should wait until after the Sports Festival? I suppose I’ll have to wait and see if I have enough material…

Still, it does feel weird to try and do character profiles when there are other ones out there that are so much more detailed and really dig into things. I mean, it can’t necessarily hurt for me to do, but it’d also push back the chapters even further when I just want to get caught up, so… bleh.

Anyways, chapter.

[No. 16 - Know Your Enemies]

First off, Mineta, why. Just. Sigh.

Our first panel has izuku and Tsuyu wading towards the edge of the water, Izuku cradling his broken finger while Tsuyu drags Mineta along. Long and short, Mineta says the villains will be stuck together all day. Izuku is muttering about how lucky they were, because that move was a real gamble, and if the villains had been smart, a few of them would have been hidden under the water. He can guess they weren’t thinking ahead, but they still need to be careful…

Tsuyu tells him to stop, since what he’s muttering about is scary. She then asks him what they should do now. Izuku determines that their top priority is calling for help, and that if possible, they should follow the shoreline and make for the exit, avoiding the plaza altogether. (Meanwhile, Tsuyu asks if Izuku’s okay, which he confirms even while wincing over his injury.) Izuku’s narration recounts that their first battle ended in a win, but that he’d made a deadly wrong assumption.

Huh. Izuku is using his elbow pad as a temporary compress for his broken finger. Interesting.

Tsuyu accepts Izuku’s plan, and then notes that Aizawa is drawing a large number of villains to the plaza. Izuku is worried about their teacher, noting that there’s too many enemies. Of course, Eraserhead is holding his own out there, but it’s too much for him, and that he had to know that, but jumped in to protect the class anyways.

Mineta think Izuku is planning something stupid (which I mean, rude but fair) while Tsuyu gives a neutral ribbit. Izuku clarifies that he isn’t saying they should dive right into the fight - just that they watch for an opening and do what they can to lighten their teacher’s load. The narration from above finishes with an ominous statement - thinking that they stood a chance against those enemies was a grave miscalculation.

Then we get an overview of the USJ and where everyone was sent, serving as the ‘cover page’ for the chapter.

Interestingly, neither Aoyama or Hagakure have a confirmed location, though I am aware that Hagakure later states she was in the same zone as Shouto. And Shouji… oh, poor Shouji…

Can’t believe my good hugs boy was slandered like this… damn you Viz…

Not to mention the disrespect to our goddess Yaomomo… when will it end...

Next up, we get to see Shouto being casually intimidating. He exhales a chilled breath as his shoulder starts to steam, musing about the villains’ divide and conquer strategy. He then notes with a half-hearted preemptive apology that it’s hard to see the villains who were in the landslide zone as any more than thugs with quirks they can’t even handle.

Jesus christ where does his ice end.

Shouto approaches the closest villain - perhaps the leader of that squad - his boots crunching in the ice as his left side continues to steam. The squad leader(?) calls him a bastard and complains how he reacted the second he was warped there, as well as wonders if he’s really just a kid before complaining about the pain from the frostbite of the ice.

Shouto briefly flashes back to Shigaraki mentioning how they brought along so many playmates (which I guess confirms that Jirou and/or Shouji forwarded some of what the villains were saying down in the plaza because otherwise there’s no way they should have heard from that distance.) He thinks about how the villains want to kill All Might, and and first, they’d all seemed elite, so they could use their numbers to overwhelm him. But taking a closer look, the pawns are only there for the kids, nothing but a gang of low-level cannon fodder. As far as he can tell, there are only about four or five really dangerous individuals there.

He then sits down(!!!) as he gets the villains’ attention, noting that at the rate they’re going, their skin will rot away from frostbite. The villains are alarm, but Shouto continues on, explaining that he’s trying to become a hero, and that heroes don’t do such horrible things. As he thinks about what he needs to do next, he asks the villains what makes them think they can kill All Might, and to tell him their plan.

Shouto, my man, that is a power move and a half right there, I cannot believe he actually sits down and makes them talk to him like an unruly class of students or sommat. Just, fucking hell, I don’t even know if he realizes how effectively he just asserted his dominance.

Our next scene shift (and the last for this post) is over to Yaomomo, Jirou, and Kaminari in the mountain zone, surrounded by enemies.

Pick your fighter. I’m Birb Dude.

A lot of those enemies have weapons of zome kind and are overall fairly intimidating, though there’s also this one fucker-

I’m sorry I just cannot take this one seriously, what the FUCK is that. There’s certainly some other questionable villains in this mess, but that one just. What.

Anyways. Kaminari just dodges a heavy punch from the big villain with the weird helmet on. He yelps as he gets closer to the girls and gets into formation (back to back to back), complaining about his whole life flashing before his eyes and asking who the hell those guys are and what they’re doing there. Jirou tells him to worry about that later, with Yaomomo stating they need to figure out how to get away from that mob.

Jirou asks Kaminari to confirm he’s a ‘lightning guy’, and then tells him to just fry them all to a crisp. While she’s holding a presumably metal sword. Yeah no, I can’t see anything wrong with that plan. Kaminari is offended because why wasn’t she paying attention when were partners during the battle training?

He then goes on to explain that he can only cover himself in electricity (so he wants a weapon), then goes on to say that he can discharge it, but he can’t control it - he’d hit them as well! Kind of like Todoroki’s power. He also states that he’s still trying to call for help, but his special transceiver is being jammed. He then finishes with the statement that they can’t rely on him, so he’s relying on them, giving a thumbs up with a bit of zap coming off of it.

Jirou grumbles about how he blabs a lot for a guy, then turns and kicks him into the crowd of villains, telling him to be a human stun gun. Kaminari yelps in disbelief at the betrayal, smacking right into the huge villain who almost punched him before and giving the guy a real good zap. Jirou is unimpressed as Kaminari realizes that the adhoc plan actually worked, and that the two can in fact rely on him after all. Jirou notes that that was easy.

Two other villains move to go after Kaminari, who is STILL somehow zapping the guy (how is that villain not dead yet??), with the rock fisted guy aiming a massive bouldery fist at a scared Kaminari. However, right before it hits, it gets cracked open by some kind of soundsave, leaving the villain’s unprotected fist to land right in Kaminari’s face and get them brutally zapped as well.

The boar-masked villain with knives tries to leap in, but a net shot from seemingly nowhere catches him mid-air and sends him falling to the ground caught up in it. We see right after that it was shot from Yaomomo’s right forearm / elbow, all while she’s blocking another strike from a different villain with her staff. She tells Jirou and Kaminari to get serious, with Jirou apologizing as she lifts her short sword again.

Jirou unplugs her ear jack from the speaker in her right boot, the jack retracting to normal length as she notes that she had a good plan, but Kaminari… (something? IDK. I guess he’s in the way? Or she wasn’t expecting his quirk limitations?)

We get her full name - Jirou Kyoka - and a description of her quirk, Earphone Jack.

We also get to see her use her quirk without the speakers, directing one of those amplified heartbeats as a direct attack at some of the villains, who hold their hears as they shout from the pain. Jirou blocks another up-close sword attack with her own short sword, nothing that in her costume request, she asked for a way to focus her sound in one direction.

A question about her costume, like. Why are the speakers in her boots? I mean, I know her costume needed speakers to direct her quirk, but why not go for something like Present Mic’s costume where she could have the speakers on her shoulders and so a lot closer to her quirk???

Yeah, I need to try and keep remembering that these are first draft costumes made by fifteen year olds and not meant to be used in the field / against villains yet. Sometimes I am a dumb. Thank you discord for knocking my head straight.

Moving on, we get Yaomomo kicking another villain back as she states that ‘it’s ready’, which confuses Jirou and I guess the villains as well. The villain she kicked stumbles back as Yaomomo crouches over, her back starting to bulge as she notes that it took some time, what with it being a larger object. The back of her costume tears open in a fairly gruesome-seeming image, only for the next panel to reveal it’s some kind of huge sheet that shoot out over her and Jirou’s heads before coming down to completely cover them both.

The villains are confused about the sheet, asking if the kids are trying to shield themselves. Meanwhile, Kaminari seems done shocking the other villains, stumbling as others start to run at him with their weapons or hands poised to strike. Momo clarifies that the sheet is a 100 mm thick insulation sheet, then tells Kaminari ‘now.’ Kaminari, nose bloody, realizes her plan and let her know that. He lifts his arms, telling the villains that he’s actually super strong before bringing them down and fully unleashing his quirk, zapping all of them at once.

Pikachu, use Thunder!

As the quirk wears off, we see all the villains are in no condition to keep fighting. Smoke rises from the insulated sheet as Yaomomo lifts the edge, noting that now that that is handled, she’s worried about the others, so they need to hurry up and regroup. Jirou is flustered as she points out Yaomomo’s wardrobe malfunction (which I will not be sharing here), while Yaomomo calmly replies she can make more clothes. We also get a blurb on Yaomomo’s quirk:

As well as probably one of the most important things that Bones cut out for some stupid reason: belly rolls!

Yes, Yaomomo actually has a healthy weight in the manga. I mean, all the girls do, but still. Why do animes just ruin this stuff.

Anyways, our last two panels of the page and this half of the chapter show Kaminari totally brain dead as he cheers, with another blurb about his quirk:

Behind all three of them, we see a fist smashing up out of the ground, showing that someone managed to dodge that super-attack after all…

Anyways, that’s a wrap for now. Next time is all Aizawa and Shigaraki, and that’s gonna be… messy. See y’all then!

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tu-mint · 3 years

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Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Fallen

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

angel!felix x demon!reader - comedy, fluff, felix worrying about losing his job as an angel lmao

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary - Felix is an angel. Literally. Like, from Heaven. And he’s the best at being one. Never has he let temptation lead him astray. Never has he stopped before doing what is right. Never has he abandoned his assigned humans, even those that provide the most challenge. He’s never stepped a toe out of line, always kept his crush on a particularly annoying demon a secret. That is, until, he wakes up in the bed of said annoying demon with lipstick stains on his skin and his halo a little crooked.

Warnings: explicit discussion of sex, making out, that’s it I think but let me know if I missed something please!

this is dedicated to the lovely @brinnalaine for being such a supportive sweetheart, so I hope you enjoy this little fic about our sunshine!

a/n: and here is the sixth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I’m sorry it’s so late in the day but I’ve spent all day at a theme park scarefest getting terrorised by clowns and dolls in terrifying mazes lmao. @silverlightprincess hasn’t actually proofread this but she proofreads everything else so I still want to thank her for being the best! I really hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write. please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @cloudsgathering @silverlightprincess

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I wake up with something heavy on my face and a dizzy head from my mouth and nose being blocked. I try to take a deep breath and, instead, end up inhaling something soft and wispy, making me choke. I sit up suddenly, pushing the heavy thing off me with effort as I splutter, trying to empty my mouth of whatever it is that’s invaded it. And then I reach a finger into my mouth and end up pulling out feathers. Pure white and fringed feathers.

‘Did you just shove my wing, y/n?’ I hear Felix’s deep morning voice mumble into his pillow, and I shoot his back a dirty look, fishing his stupid feathers out of my mouth and trying to ignore the way I get butterflies in my stomach at hearing him say my name with that voice of his. He’s got his massive wings out for some stupid reason, one of them taking up my side of the bed whilst the other hangs over onto the floor. His hair, a lovely soft blond colour, is a fluffy mess on the pillow, and I can feel the heat that his body radiates despite only having the covers up to his hips, the band of his underwear just about visible.

I’ve been running into Felix quite a bit in the last few months – somehow he was always being assigned to humans in areas that I was… terrorising people in. Angels and demons have always had a… rocky relationship, but Felix was too pure, too kind, too sweet for me to be a bitch to him like I’ve been to all the other angels I’ve encountered. So I put up with his annoyingly sunny presence and his random acts of kindness and him stopping me from feeding on humans because ‘they haven’t done anything wrong!’ After him starving me for months, I got fed up and made a deal with him. I would scare the shit out of people to feed on them, and he would erase their memories so they wouldn’t be scarred for life. We became a… partnership of sorts, making me the most well-fed demon and him the highest achieving angel. To celebrate our successes, I took him to a new trendy bar last night and we got super drunk on fruity cocktails. And here we are now, with my cute red dress on the floor next to his black jeans.

‘Yes. I did. Because it was on top of me, suffocating me, and now I have a mouthful of your dumb feathers. Why are they even out? Put them away please?’ I ask harshly, injecting more annoyance into my voice than I feel, and Felix sighs, rolling his shoulders without moving from his position of being sprawled out on his front in my bed, and his wings slowly shrink, diminishing into his strong back, the only trace of them the two small bumps between his shoulder blades.

‘Don’t call my feathers dumb. I put a lot of effort into looking after them,’ he mumbles, voice still muffled in his pillow, and I roll my eyes, letting myself fall back against the bed. ‘Wouldn’t be able to tell. Coarse and ratty, they are,’ I tease half-heartedly, both of us knowing his feathers are softer than silk. ‘Like your hair,’ he replies in his wickedly deep voice, his amusement obvious in his tone, and I let out an outraged noise.

‘My hair is beautifully healthy, thank you. You should know – had your hands in it for hours last night,’ I pout, annoyed, as I pull the covers up around me, shivering. The room is absolutely freezing, due to the cold weather and the fact that I’m only in Felix’s thin white shirt and a pair of pants, so I can’t help but inch closer to him, his body radiating warmth. He doesn’t reply, but I don’t have any objections. I like my lazy morning lie-ins and it’d be nice to get a couple more hours of sleep.

‘Oh, shit,’ he says a few minutes later, sounding wide awake now, just as I’m beginning to drop off back to sleep, and I let out a loud huff of annoyance. ‘What?’ ‘I slept with you,’ he says as though he’s just found it out, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at me with wide eyes. ‘Did you forget? I thought it was pretty memorable,’ I say offhandedly, amused. ‘It was. But I… I slept with you,’ he says, turning over and staring up at the ceiling, blinking in disbelief. ‘Right. I’m confused,’ I say, wondering if he’s lost his mind or something. My pussy’s good, but not that good. Or maybe it is? God knows. Actually, let’s hope God doesn’t know. She’ll probably kill Felix. Oh, right. I get why he’s freaking out now.

‘Oh, no. Angel boy’s having a mental breakdown because he fucked a demon, and God’s not gonna be happy,’ I tease in a light voice, holding back my laughter, and Felix sits up in bed, looking distraught. ‘She’s gonna kill me. She will actually kill me,’ he says quietly before dropping his head into his hands with a dramatic fake sob. ‘Oh, calm down. She doesn’t even need to know,’ I say, immensely amused, and Felix turns to me with distraught eyes. ‘She’ll know!’ ‘How? Unless one of us tells her, she won’t know,’ I say pointedly, telling him to keep his mouth shut but in nicer words.

‘But… she’s God. Won’t she just know?’ he asks, eyes wide like an innocent little kid, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re not the first angel I’ve fucked, Lix.’ ‘I’m not?’ he asks, sounding sceptical, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t sound so disbelieving. But, anyway, she’s never found out about those before. As long as you don’t blab, it’ll be fine,’ I say, and he nods, looking like he’s on the verge of tears.

‘Lix, relax. Stop panicking. You’re ruining the morning-after mood,’ I say softly after a minute of him just staring at the wall unseeingly. I slide my arms around his waist, pulling him down to lie beside me, and I curl into him instantly, revelling in the warmth of his bare skin. His arm comes around me, holding me against him, and I can sense him relaxing a little. I lay a hand on his chest, over the red lipstick marks that stain his skin, drawing patterns with my fingers, and after a few minutes, he puts his hand over mine, making me look up at him.

He takes me by surprise when he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut after the initial surprise, and I melt into him, hand sliding up from his chest to around the back of his neck, the short soft hairs at the nape of his neck tickling the pads of my fingers. His velvety lips are firm against mine, our mouths moving in sync, and I let out little breaths and whines against his mouth as his hands leisurely travel over my body, giving me butterflies in my stomach when his tongue slides into my mouth.

We break apart after a few minutes, the kiss leaving me breathless, and his lips quirk up in an amused grin. He might be the most angelic… angel in Heaven, but he touched me, kissed me, fucked me like a demon. ‘You’re cute,’ he murmurs, briefly pressing his lips to my forehead, and I try to ignore the little thrill in my chest, pouting at him instead. ‘I’m an evil demon that feeds on human fear. I’m not cute,’ I mumble, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘You are. You’re a cute evil demon that feeds on human fear,’ he replies with a grin, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut it, angel boy, you’re the cute one here.’ ‘Here I was thinking you found me sexy.’ ‘In your dreams, Lix,’ I murmur amusedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Not what you were saying last night.’ ‘…Shut up.’

He laughs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I feel warm and secure in his arms. His angel aura is definitely shining through – it feels like nothing could harm me if he’s here. We cuddle in a comfortable silence, his fingers running through my hair soothingly, and my eyes flutter shut after a little while, slumber beginning to take me. ‘What happens now?’ he murmurs, bringing me back from my snooze, and I resist the urge to put my fist through his chest.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, suppressing a yawn, and he sighs gently as I move off him, lying beside him so I can look him in the eyes. ‘Where do we… go from here?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Um… you go back to Heaven and I go back to Hell,’ I reply, knowing that that’s not the kind of answer he’s looking for, and he rolls his eyes. ‘You know I don’t mean location. I mean… with us,’ he says tentatively, and I don’t react for a moment. ‘Are you asking me what we are?’ I ask, a little stunned, and he nods, looking like he wished he never asked.

‘We’re an angel and demon that have teamed up for our own interests, and we got drunk and slept together, which won’t affect our business partnership. Right?’ I say slowly, and I feel guilt twist in my heart when the hope disappears from his pretty brown eyes. ‘Right. Yeah. I just thought…’ he trails off, turning onto his back and not looking at me. ‘Thought what?’ I ask carefully, and he’s silent for a moment before sighing. ‘I thought that maybe it was something more. I mean… we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I guess I have a bit of a… crush on you?’ he stammers, ending his sentence as a question as though he’s not quite sure.

He’s still not looking at me, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix, God’s favourite angel, has a crush on me, Lucifer’s favourite girl and a princess of the 9th circle of Hell? I’m not quite sure how to react to the words, just blinking in surprise for a moment. ‘You have a crush on me? Are you sure?’ I ask, and he lets out a little laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. ‘Yep, pretty sure. I’ve had a few months to think about it,’ he says offhandedly, and my mouth falls open. ‘You’ve had a crush on me the whole time?’ I demand, and he finally looks at me, nodding sheepishly.

‘Why didn’t you say anything, stupid?’ I exclaim, hitting his chest gently, and he lets out a light chuckle. ‘I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.’ ‘What friendship?’ I ask jokingly, and he looks at me deadpan. ‘Sorry. But seriously, are we, like, high schoolers? No. We’re centuries old supernatural beings. If you had a crush on me, you should’ve just told me, and taken me on a date. What is wrong with you?’ I demand, and he blinks at me several times. ‘Did you just say I should’ve taken you on a date?’ he asks, stunned, and I let out an annoyed noise. ‘Yes, keep up.’

‘But… you’re a demon, and I’m an angel.’ ‘Forbidden romances are better than normal ones. Like Cleopatra and Mark, Tristan and Isolde, Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juli-’ ‘Every one of those couples had a tragic end,’ Felix says dryly, an amused smile on his face, and I roll my eyes. ‘They were mortal, and were forbidden by their parents. It’s different.’ ‘Oh, yeah, we have God and Lucifer to deal with instead,’ he says sarcastically, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘Lucifer won’t care. It’s God that’s the issue. An easily solvable issue,’ I grin, and his face falls.

‘Are you plotting against God?’ he demands, looking completely outraged. ‘Don’t look so shocked, it’s not blasphemy for me. I’m a demon, stupid. But, no, I’m not plotting against her. I’m just gonna… talk to her,’ I say mildly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re gonna… talk to God? To get her to let us date?’ he asks, sounding disbelieving, and I nod simply. ‘She’ll kill you,’ he replies, eyes sparkling with mirth, and I just grin. ‘I think you’ll find I can be quite… persuasive,’ I reply, dragging my fingertips across his chest gently, the feeling of my long red nails lightly scraping his skin making his amusement disappear, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He blinks a few times, knocking himself out of his little trance. ‘I’m not sure trying to seduce her will work,’ he says lightly, and I smirk at him. ‘Oh, I know. I’m planning something else for her. It’s you I’m trying to seduce,’ I murmur, resting my thumb against my lower lip with a small smile, making my eyes all big, and I see him visibly gulp.

‘It’s working,’ he says distractedly, sliding his arms around me and pulling me on top of him, and I meet his mouth in a kiss, unable to keep the grin off my face as our lips move against each other in a way that numbs my mind. ‘Wait, wait,’ he says after a few seconds, breaking away from me. ‘Does this mean you like me too?’ he asks, looking hopeful, and I think for a moment. ‘You’ve got potential. You’re… handsome, and your personality isn’t totally annoying,’ I admit begrudgingly, heart skipping a beat at the big smile that comes across his face. ‘But,’ I add, making his smile fall a little, ‘some of the appeal is the fact that you’re a pure soul, a heavenly little angel, and I’m quite the opposite. I wanna knock your halo off, angel boy, so you better hope I don’t get bored when I’ve done so.’

He doesn’t react with the hurt I expected, a small smirk playing at his lips instead, and before I can realise that we’re moving, he’s rolled us over, his body hovering over mine. His locks fall over his eyes, casting shadows across his face, and his grin makes him look more like the demons I walk among than the angel he truly is. ‘Don’t worry about getting bored, y/n,’ he murmurs in his sinfully deep voice, one of his hands coming to rest at the base of my throat and making my skin burn hot with desire. I can’t help but mirror his grin, impressed at this very out of character behaviour. ‘Why not, Lix?’ I ask teasingly, and he just smirks, hand tightening at my neck, his sparkly eyes locking with mine. He captures my mouth in a passionate and desperate kiss, murmuring against my lips; ‘I’ll keep you entertained.’

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

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Accidental Naps - Richie Tozier

word count: 1911 warnings: swearing, mentions of weed (?) summary: pretty much the request :)) request: can you write something for richie? reader and him end up falling asleep in the clubhouse and the losers wake them up (a/n) this one’s dedicated to my wife who needed some romantic pining :3

___

“Come lay with me,” Richie called out, making grabby hands towards (y/n).

She looked up from where she was sitting in her bean bag chair, reading one of his comic books. She pulled a face, because Richie was laying in the hammock, and he’d proven before that two people did not fit, when Eddie had forced himself into the hanging swing.

“Come on” The boy whined again, his arms hanging off the side dramatically.

(y/n) raised her brows, not out of surprise, he was always dramatic, but it was still entertaining to watch him pout like a child.

“It’ll break” She told him, and looked back down at her comic.

“No it won’t” Richie argued back hopefully.

“One of us will fall out- or we both will” She answered, still reading.

“You won’t fall out!” Richie pleaded. “It’ll be fine, please?”

Her eyes flickered up to his, and when he gave her that big stupid cheesy grin, she knew she was done for.

“I need attention” He added in a whine.

“You always need attention” (y/n) sighed.

She marked her spot in the comic as she stood up, and made her way towards him.

“And you always give in!” Richie told her- like she didn’t already know- and wrapped his arms around her as she carefully crawled into the hammock with him.

She tried to be slow in her movements, but Richie didn’t care if they flipped the swing, so he pulled her the rest of the way until she tripped and fell into him.

“Richie!” She tried to scold him, but she was laughing too much to really be convincing. “You could’ve flipped the whole thing over”

“Nah, calm down babe,” He shrugged while she got situated. “Here, I’ll keep it steady”

Richie stuck a leg out of the swing, and since the boy was a tree, it wasn't difficult for him to keep one foot on the ground, so they would stop swinging back and forth.

(y/n) cuddled up against Richie’s side, even though she was already half on top of him, since the hammock was so small. Neither of them would admit, but they didn’t mind anyways.

“Better?” She asked, laying her head on his chest and opening up -her- his comic book again.

He grinned at her.

“Much” He says, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close while she started to read.

He could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, but he wanted to enjoy his time with her. So he squeezed her tighter and buried his face into her hair.

“That tickles,” (y/n) giggles, her shoulders flinching while Richie only buried his face further. She squealed when his nose grazed over her neck. “Richie! Cut it out!” She said between giggles, until eventually she dropped the comic book to the ground, and flipped over onto her stomach so she could lift her head away from his face.

“We don’t hang out enough” Richie declared, and the sudden change in mood made her brows furrow.

She stared down at him, an almost worried expression on her face. Had she been a bad friend? Had she not reached out enough? Sure the whole gang hangs out plenty, but did she not do a good enough job creating special relationships with each of her friends individually?

“I’m sorry,” The words slipped out rather awkwardly, but she didn’t take it back. “We should hang out more, but you know Beverly always wants to go to like the mall or something-”

“We can just do this,” Richie said, pulling her back down. She was laying on top of him now, but again, neither cared. “Just lots and lots of this”

She grins, shaking her head at him, but she was still smiling.

“I guess I’m okay with that” She mumbled, before laying down against him again.

Her legs tangled between his, and she threw her arm across his torso.

“You guess?” Richie teased, and she chuckled against his neck.

“You’re actually pretty comfortable,” She hummed, starting to feel sleepy as the soft material of his tee shirt caressed over her cheek. “Even though you’re a skinny ass tree”

When she let out a yawn, Richie grinned at her, even though her eyes had fallen shut.

“You gonna fall asleep?”

“Play with my hair a little and you bet” She joked, peeking an eye open at him for a second, just so she could stick her tongue out.

“You got it” Richie replied, and before she could laugh it off, his hand was in her hair, combing through gently.

She giggled, looking up at him with a dopey smile that she couldn’t bite back if she tried.

“You’re so dumb,” She teased affectionately. “The dumbest, really”

There’s a blush on her cheeks that Richie doesn’t miss, because the proximity between their faces is so small it’s almost nonexistent. If he didn’t know better, he would kiss her right now.

He wondered briefly if he did know better, though.

He knew he should say something, because he’s just staring at her like a love-struck idiot -which he was- and it’d been so long now he was blushing too.

(y/n’s) eyes wandered down to his lips, and paused for a moment, staring just long enough for Richie to notice, and for his cheeks to darken to a red.

A beam stretched across her lips when she saw this, and her eyes flickered back up to his.

“You’re blushing” She whispers, and she pokes his nose and then his cheek.

“Yeah well you’re starin’ at me” Richie retorted.

(y/n) quirked an eyebrow.

“And that makes you blush like that?” She asks, her grin turning into a sly sort of smirk.

“You’re frightening, babe”

He was murmuring, and something about the drop in his voice when he used the cute little nickname made her heart skip a beat. Maybe even two beats.

“I’m frightening?” She asked, confused as to what part of her made him nervous.

Richie chuckled, his hand still petting her hair comfortingly.

“Hell yeah” He said, and her brows furrowed.

“What about me scares you?” She asked. “I think I’ve always been nice to you?”

“You have,” He told her. “But unfortunately you’re really pretty, so it doesn’t matter”

Both of her eyebrows raised out of surprise, and Richie only grinned back at her.

“And- and that scares you?” She asks, and she tries to get the feeling to go away, but her cheeks feel hot again, and they must match the same rosey shade on Richie’s face.

“Well, it’s certainly intimidating,” He said, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. Her head moved with it, and she giggled at the action. “You’re a frightening, intimidating, pretty girl”

She giggles again, because it’s the weirdest and cheesiest thing she’s ever heard.

“I didn’t know you thought that,” She mumbled, her eyes drooping a bit as she spoke. “You’re not actually like… scared of me, are you?”

“No, not completely, I mean, Stan is way scarier than you are, so there’s that”

She laughs and so does he, and the hammock swings them a bit from the commotion. But Richie places his foot on the ground and steadies them again.

“For what it’s worth,” (y/n) whispers, before yawning, and tucking her head against the crook of his neck. “You’re pretty too”

“Thank you, babe” Richie chuckles, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

(y/n) hums, and her nose pressed into his neck as she readjusts her head to be more comfortable, and Richie squirmed a bit from the sensation, despite trying not to.

“You’re welcome, Rich” She murmured, quietly, and slowly.

He realized then that she was going to fall asleep on him, and was making no effort to try and stop it. Then again, he didn’t make any effort either.

So he wrapped his arms around her snugly, and rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his own eyes.

“You fallin’ asleep on me?” (y/n) asked, words a bit slurred, and muffled.

“No, you’re falling asleep on me” Richie corrected.

“I already told you that you’re comfortable,” She argued back. “But if you don’t want to nap with me, you’re free to leave the hammock Tozier”

He chuckled, and couldn’t help but press a little kiss into her hair. So small and quick she probably wouldn’t even notice.

She did.

“I’ll nap with you” He told her, and she smiled.

She doesn’t say anything, but her hand falls from where it had been lying on his hip. She reaches tentatively for his free hand- the one that isn’t tangled in her hair- and ever so carefully slips her fingers into his palm, before slotting in between his.

Richie doesn’t dare move a muscle, until her fingers are perfectly intertwined with his, and then he carefully clasps her hand in his own.

His heart is beating so fast that he’s sure she hears it, or feels it against her cheek, but he doesn’t really care.

She’s holding his fucking hand how could he care-

“Richie,” (y/n) whispers, voice barely audible. “Your heart’s beatin’ real fast”

“Sorry” He apologizes impulsively, but she chuckles sleepily.

“It’s okay,” She mumbles. “It’s cute”

It’s the last thing she says before she falls asleep, and he can tell because her hand relaxes a bit, and her breathing evens out. Richie doesn’t fall asleep himself for a couple more minutes, enjoying this moment way too much.

But eventually his body gives in and his eyes get heavy and he passes out with her, in what they would later describe as the best nap they’ve ever taken. ___

“What the fuck?”

“Sh-should we w-wake them u-up?”

“Are they… together?”

“Oh my fucking god- holy fucking shit- did they hook up?”

“Don’t be stupid, they couldn’t have hooked up in the hammock”

“Well, they could have done it all over and then fallen asleep in the hammock”

“Oh my fucking god. I’m gonna throw up. Yeah- yeah, I’m about to barf-”

“Shut up dumbass you’ll wake them up”

The rest of the Loser’s Club had made plans to hang out at the clubhouse, smoke a little weed, play dumb games, the usual. They’d tried calling (y/n) and Richie, but neither had picked the phone, so everyone got together anyways.

It made for quite the surprise when they got to the clubhouse, only to find their missing friends cuddled up in the hammock.

“Do you think Richie confessed?” Beverly whispered to her friends, lighting a cigarette and smirking at the sleeping pair.

“Doubt it” Stan muttered.

“They’re holding hands though,” Ben pointed out. “That doesn’t just happen in your sleep”

“(y/n’s) a-affectionate,” Bill shrugged. “Sh-she p-probably j-just-”

“Can we wake them up now?” Eddie cut him off. “I don’t wanna look at them anymore”

“You’re just jealous” Mike said, and Eddie stuck his tongue out defensively.

“We’ll just smoke outside,” Beverly declared. “We’ll let them sleep, and when they wake up, they can come up and join us”

“They’re gonna have to talk when they wake up anyways,” Ben said, heading back to the ladder. “You know, about their feelings-”

“Disgusting,” Eddie shoved Ben’s back. “Go faster”

“Jealous” Everyone said in unison.

It only took about twenty minutes before (y/n) and Richie awoke from their slumber. And the Losers definitely eavesdropped from the open hatch while they talked through their feelings for one another.

___

taglist: @fiantomartell @lemonypink @darling-egg

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard

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samanthadalton · 3 years

Text

Everything has changed

Based on the VIP book A Very Scandalous Proposal (I recommend reading it if you have vip!)

pairings: Ava Montjoy x Sophie Macdonald

(based on chapter 6 and 7 but rewritten bc we shouldve gotten a kiss in chapter 7)

You requested and I’ve delivered @thedaft1 I hope you enjoy!

taglist: @thedaft1 @cloud9in (idk any Ava Montjoy stans but if I do write more for her in the future and you wanna be tagged let me know 😊)

word count: 1.6k

After asking Ava to stay with you for the night, platonically of course, you sit in comfortable silence, eyes glued to the tv screen, entranced by the show that’s playing. As you laugh along to the jokes, you see in your peripheral vision Ava sneaking glances at you, a hint of a smirk playing across her lips. You conspicuously try not to gaze at her, fixating your focus to the tv, but you begin to feel your cheeks burning as you recollect about the kiss you shared earlier, the very fake real kiss you shared in front of her friends. Considering how much you had to drink tonight, you barely remember what happened after but your mind lingers on the kiss, the way Ava’s lips felt against yours, how her tongue slipped into your mouth setting your entire body alight. How the intensity of the kiss left you feeling weak in the knees as her toned arms slipped around your waist, steadying you. Ava blamed it on the alcohol, presuming you had too much to drink but what she didn’t realise was how much of a physical impact the kiss had on you. How it had left you dizzy and craving more, but as your mind drifts off, assessing and analysing every moment of the kiss, Ava’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you clear your throat, wishing away all your unbridled thoughts about the Brit as she give you a small smile.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You turn your head slightly to gaze at her, your body sobering up as the moments pass but you definitely still feel the alcohol in your system. “Just thinking.”

“About?” You raise a playful eyebrow at her, “come darling, I’m your fiancee you should be able to share stuff with me.” And there it was, her absolutely infuriating but somehow incredibly charismatic personality shining through and you can’t help but laugh.

“I guess I’m still embarrassed by tonight. I didn’t say anything out of order in front of your friends right?” Your voice is laced with a bit of insecurity as your gaze nervously burns into Ava’s.

Ava gives a sinister grin that is anything but innocent. “Well…..I will say that you are a right cheeky bugger when you’ve had a proper chin wag.”

“Ava, real english please.” You know you sound like a dumb American in this moment but after a few weeks you’re still trying to wrap your head around the absurdity that is British slang.

Ava lets out a small airy laugh, “god you’re so hopelessly American.” Her smile broadens, as she slightly shakes her head. “You tend to say some things which are quite barmy, while under the influence of alcohol.”

You groan, your hand raises as you give yourself a physical and mental facepalm, “just rip it off like a band-aid, what did I say?”

“Let’s just say you were very persistent in me taking you to bed,” Ava trails off her cheeks dusted red as you pointedly glances away from you, her eyes boring into the telly but not fully focused on the screen.

“Oh god.”

Ava turns back to you, her lips quirked into a toothy grin, “well you’ve already enticed me into your bed so I say you’ve done a bloody good job.: Her voice chirps with playfulness as her accent strengthens when pronouncing certain words and you feel as if you’ve fallen under her spell. What started off as an innocent agreement between the two of you is beginning to grow into something more, however you’re unsure if the feeling is unrequited or if Ava feels the same way. She leans forward slightly, her gaze slightly darkens as she takes you in, “I can’t exactly blame you, you’re not made out of stone. I know how…” she pauses, contemplating for a few seconds before giving you a devilish grin, “alluring I can be.” You facetiously swat at her arm, your cheeks reddening by the second. The sounds from the tv become a background noise as you stare intensely at her, all rational thoughts thrown out of the window as your gaze involuntarily darts down to her lips. Ava notices your wandering eyes and subconsciously runs her tongue along her bottom lip, the wetness of it glistening under the dim glare of the television.

“Sophie,” your name leaves her lips in a low breathless manner, whether it’s a come on or a warning you’re still internally debating as you edge closer to her, but Ava retracts her gaze from yours pulling you out of the moment.

“We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, we should get some sleep.” She shifts in the bed leaving a wide gap between the two of you which suddenly feels like a chasm. Hyper aware of the awkward shift in the atmosphere, you cover up the look of disappointment flashing across your face with an exaggerated yawn before turning to face the other way.

“Goodnight Sophie.”

“Goodnight Ava.” You close your eyes and let the sleep that you tried so hard to subside earlier take you.

…..

After spending the day researching for your book, you begin getting ready for dinner after Ava has promised to take you out to dinner after criticizing the lack of public exposure to your relationship. After indulging in a dinner, where you catch a glimpse of Ava’s hedonistic nature in the way in which she takes the reins, teaching you about the art of eating oysters she offers to take you to a small private club called Firefly.

“I’d much rather entertain you somewhere more...intimate than regale this stuffy lot.” She holds out her hand which you cordially accept and as your hand slips into hers, she lifts it to her lips, gently pressing a kiss across your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. Ava tenderly strokes her thumb over your knuckles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach even though you know it’s for show.

Temporarily stunned, you’re at a loss for words as you take in the mischievous glint in Ava’s eyes. “I-,”

“Cat got your tongue?” Ava teases as her hand still remains on yours, her fingertips ghosting around your knuckles.

Seeing the smug look on Ava’s face strengthens your resolve as you assertively raise an eyebrow before leaning in close to whisper, “I’d love to go.”

Ava breaks out into a wolfish grin, “Marvellous. I’ll just grab the check and then we will be on our way.”

….

Ava leads you into a glamorous setting, the sultry old timey music washing over you as she leads you to a table near the front of the stage.

“Ava, this place is beautiful. I feel like I’ve been catapulted back into the 1920s.”

“Yes, Mitzie has always taken a liking to this place and I guess she has passed it down onto me. Whenever I feel like I need an escape, I like to come here and lose myself in the music.”

You indulge in some more conversation with Ava in which she lets some juicy gossip about her grandmother being a lounge singer in this very place when she was younger, after making you promise not to add it to your book, fearing her wrath. A slow romantic song begins to play as couples begin drifting towards the dance floor. Ava holds out a hand, “indulge me?” You take her hand and let her lead you into the middle of floor. Her hands hang loosely around your waist while you find yourself doing the same with your arms around her neck.

You dance in content silence for a few moments, but you feel Ava’s gaze boring into you as she softly speaks out, “I have to say Sophie, I’m… pleasantly surprised.”

“About what?”

“Everything I suppose. I know it must have not been easy when I propositioned you with the devil’s bargain so to say, but I have to say, this has been unexpectedly delightful.” You draw your head back, slightly started by Ava’s admission, catching an amorous glint in her eye which momentarily takes your breath away.

“I-. I have to admit, this has been more enjoyable than I thought it would be. When you first approached me I thought you were a pompous, stuffy, self-centred upper crust girl.”

“You wound me.” Ava brings a hand over her hand, exaggeratingly clutching at it before moving her hand back around to your waist, her hands gripping your hips slightly firmer than before. “So what do you think of me now?” You see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes as her half-lidded gaze roams your facial features as if she’s searching for something.

“Oh I still think you’re incredibly pompous,” your jesting tone elicits a few laughs from the Brit before she gleams languorously at you, “but you’ve been nothing but kind to me. Sometimes a giant pain in my ass but you’re different than what I expected.”

You feel a surge of adrenaline rush through you at the spike of your admittance as the air between the two of you suddenly feels dense, heavy with anticipation as you close the gap between the two of you, her soft plush lips easing into yours. You moan softly as your arms around Ava’s neck tighten, surging yourself against her. Your kiss grows warmer, as you explore the depths of her mouth, forgetting about the people around you. Unlike the kiss you shared last night, this one feels more authentic, as you begin to lose yourself in her. Ava pulls away as the music shifts into something more spirited and she rests her forehead against yours, her darkened eyes staring deeply into yours, as the feel of her lips still lingering on yours.

As you glare into each other’s eyes you know that everything has changed.

#playchoices #a very scandalous proposal #avsp #ava montjoy #ava x mc #avsp ava

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 years

Text

Nightmares

Summary:

You’ve been having nightmares at night and so in protest, you decide to stay up all night with Jihoon in his studio.

“I can’t help but note that this is a little unorthodox.”

You shot Jihoon a glare as you pulled up a chair beside him in the studio, smoothing your hand over your pants as you did so.

“This isn’t unorthodox in the slightest,” you protested with a small humph as you wrapped an arm around his. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, an eyebrow quirking at the touch. You didn’t pay him much mind. You just pulled yourself closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Just keep working, it’s as if I’m not even here,” you stated insistently. Jihoon scoffed, his eyes still on your stubborn form sitting right there next to him.

“But you are right there,” he murmured back. “And you’re being weird.”

You sighed.

“I’m not being weird you’re just overthinking everything,” you retorted. Jihoon grunted, and it was clear he didn’t want the topic of conversation to drop- but it was also clear that he knew there was no point in arguing over everything. So instead of doing so he just turned his attention back to his computer, slipping his headphones back over his ears.

Jihoon had been spending the last few nights up late in the studio. He had a deadline approaching for Seventeen’s next album, and there were just a few small details he wanted to touch on before showing it to Bumzu.

Normally, you liked to leave Jihoon alone when he was working and in general you tried to get more sleep then Jihoon. You tended to go to bed as early as you could and lay there as long as you needed to in order to get the rest you needed.

But… Recently sleep hadn’t been coming easily, and even worse once you did finally fall asleep, you were frequently dragged back to your pitch black room by the remnants of a dream so scary that you couldn’t stay asleep.

At first, they were pretty general. Mostly nightmares that you couldn’t remember. You had vague memories of a scary man chasing you in the woods, memories of being absolutely horrified in the middle of the night, trying to lull your beating heart back to a calm drum as you jolted up.

You could deal with those after all. Maybe you were just watching too many scary things before bed, maybe you just needed to take a step back from the Supernatural and relax.

But that was when the dreams morphed to what you suspected your subconscious had always feared in the first place.

You could still remember last night’s dream.

You had been hanging out with Seokmin and Seungkwan, your fingers wrapped tightly around Seungkwan’s arms. You couldn’t really remember the details anymore. What the three of you had been doing. But you remembered a lot of laughing, and you remembered Seokmin’s sunny smile as you all did whatever you were doing.

After only a few moments Jihoon had come in, he was smiling too- but you remembered noting that his smile was a little bit more distant then you were used to. It had worried you to see him like that. You knew that something heavy was on his mind, so you had let your fingers slip from Seungkwan, and you had turned all of your attention to Jihoon.

You asked him silently how he was, and if he wanted you to do anything, and he had assured you he was fine, but you knew the smile was fake. You had spent the next hour or so worried about him, worried about that fake smile on his lips and the dumb laugh that you knew wasn’t real. Every second that he spent zoned out was another second that you worried about what was going through his head.

The time had dragged out in the dream, it had felt like forever before Seokmin and Seungkwan finally left, and you turned to Jihoon and demanded to know what was wrong.

You weren’t sure what hurt the most. The fact that he wouldn’t look at you, or what he said.

“Y/n, I’m not in love with you.”

Your fingers, tightened on Jihoon’s arm, reassuring you that he was there despite the dream that you had the night before. And the night before that. And the night before that one. Every night for the past week you had dreamt about Jihoon breaking up with you.

You almost preferred the dreams of being stalked. The ones of ghosts, and witches, and being chased by murderers. You liked the ones where you couldn’t even remember the face of what suddenly had you so terrified to be in the dark over the nightmares that you were having now.

Especially because they were never just one nightmare.

Every night, you would have these awful nightmares, and you would wake yourself up, and your cheeks would be red and tear stained from the fear of losing Jihoon. Your fingers would shake as you consider calling him on your cell just to remind him that you loved him and that you missed him. Just so he could tease you for being clingy, silently whispering back that he did in fact love you too (you never did call). And every night you would fall back asleep and have another nightmare, and wake up again, cold and scared and alone, again and again until finally the birds were chirping outside of your window and you just couldn’t try and sleep anymore.

These days you were exhausted, and these days you were so irritated, and these days you didn’t ever want to let go of Jihoon.

You didn’t know why you were having these nightmares, you didn’t know why you couldn’t sleep anymore but you did know that you were sick and tired of them, and there was one sure fire way that you could avoid having another one.

Jihoon slipped his headphone’s off of his ears and looked over at you. You could feel his curiosity radiating from his body and you tried not to make eye contact with him, knowing that the fear in your eyes would certainly betray that something was indeed wrong with you. So instead, you kept your gaze on the ground, smiling ever so slightly as you tapped your feet against the floor.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice soft. You let your eyes drift shut, and you tilted your head in towards him more, your forehead brushing against his shoulder as a response. “Do you want to hear my new song?”

If there was one thing about Jihoon, it was that he always knew what to say.

He knew when to nag you, and he knew when to baby you, and he knew when to just drop a topic.

You had always thought that your moods were… Too unpredictable. Even you weren’t sure what someone needed to say or do to calm you down in the middle of a panic attack, and sometimes when you slipped and cut yourself while making dinner you just wanted everyone to pretend like it hadn’t happened at all.

But whenever Jihoon was around he always did the thing that you needed someone to do. He made a big deal about you slipping on ice and checked your hands in the dark of a cold December night despite your insistence that you were fine, and he always made a point to check on you when you seemed to be a little under the weather and nobody else cared to notice.

You didn’t just want to hear Jihoon’s new song. Deep down, you knew you needed to hear it. You nodded and lifted your head off of Jihoon’s shoulder and without another word he slipped his headphones over your ears and hit play.

“Don’t know what you’re going through. Know that you don’t want to share.

But still I wish I could be there to hold you, wish I could show you how much I care.

I can’t always find the words, to make you feel safe at night. But I hope this song reminds you- that everything is going to be alright.

Even when I can’t be there, oh baby I’m in your heart.

Even when you can’t hold my hand, know that I’m wishing I could be there- I never wat to be apart.

May not be my one and only, but right now you’re my everything

Don’t worry about it- I’ll even watch over you when you’re sleeping.”

The song itself was gorgeous. The gentle slur of the piano in the background, and the quiet sound of a violin. It sounded almost like a lullaby- so peaceful and calming that it nearly made you forget why you had been so afraid to go to sleep in the first place.

You looked up at Jihoon as the song continued to play in the background, your eyes wet as you finally made eye contact with him. He seemed surprised that you were crying, and you could see the concern etch itself into his brow when he realized it himself.

But before he could say anything you just opened your mouth, letting a wrecked sob leave your lips.

“I’ve been dreaming that you didn’t love me anymore.”

You started to sob, this time unable to control the emotion.

“Every night. Every night I dream of a different way for you to leave me. A different way for you to tell me that you don’t love me anymore and I just needed to be close to you to r-remember tha-”

Before you could finish Jihoon had his arms wrapped around you.

You had hugged him a number of times before this, but never before had he held you so tight- never before had his touch seemed so… Desperate. You could feel his fingers digging into the material of your shirt, afraid to let you go.

“That I love you? That I would never leave you?” Jihoon asked you. You just silently nodded, the tears still streaming from your face. “It’s true. You know I don’t want anyone but you.”

You knew it was true. You knew Jihoon wasn’t in love with someone else, and you knew that he hadn’t loved anyone the same way that he loved you. But still, your heart ached.

“Then why am I dreaming these things?” You asked. Despite the fact that you were still upset, your sobs were becoming quieter, your body wasn’t shaking as much. After all, you were safe here. You were in Jihoon’s studio, with Jihoon, in his arms. Nothing could hurt you here.

“Maybe because you know,” he replied. The statement confused you. You pressed back a little bit, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at Jihoon. His eyes weren’t on you. “That it’s only a matter of time before I find somebody else to fall in love with.”

You screamed as you shot up, and the action jolted Jihoon from his work. He looked over at you, a bewildered expression on his face. He was quick to action despite your surprise, his hand falling on your head as he began to coaxingly say your name.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?”

You were shaky- you were dazed. You weren’t really sure where you were, but soon it came to your attention that you were still in Jihoon’s studio.

“I-I, uh,” you stammered over your words, your arms wrapping protectively around yourself. “What happened?”

“You listened to my song, and then you dozed off,” he replied, still looking concern. “Either my song was just that boring or you were just really tired.”

He laughed at his own joke, but the laughed died in his throat when you didn’t laugh too.

You still remembered what it had felt like, to have Jihoon’s fingers buried in your shirt. To be crying so rawly in front of him. Had all of that really been a dream? Something that your mind had just conjured up to torture you.

“Your roommates say that you’ve been waking up scared a lot recently,” Jihoon mumbled. His words dragged your attention back up to him, and you gave him a sheepish expression.

“I… I don’t really want to talk about it anymore,” you whispered. You felt like you had just talked about it, and even thought you knew that it was just some cruel figment of your imagination, you didn’t want this conversation to end the same way as the last one.

“I know that you’ve been having nightmares,” Jihoon replied back. “And it doesn’t take a genius to realize they’re about me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Jihoon didn’t give you the time.

“Do you know where I would be without you?” He asked. You closed your mouth and shook your head quietly. “Without you I would be in this studio every day, pondering what to write next. I woudn’t eat or sleep, and I would only get out when Mingyu forced me out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you insisted.

“But I craved more,” Jihoon insisted. “I craved more than just working all of the time. I wanted more than the friends that I had. I wanted you and I didn’t even know who you were yet, I didn’t even know what my life was lacking until you stepped into my studio.”

He reached forward, his fingertips gently trailing over your cheekbones, his eyes following the action very close.

“I was in love with you before I even knew who you were. I needed you before I knew that I needed anything at all,” he assured. “You’re probably having the nightmares because so many people in your life are breaking up. You thought you knew true love in them and seeing them fall apart is scary. But don’t lose faith in me because they lost faith in each other. Trust me to always be there for you, and I’ll trust you to always be there for me.”

His words faded off and you waited for the worst of it. You waited for Jihoon to tell you that he didn’t mean it, or that he could live without you, or that you made an excellent source of inspiration and that was it. But instead, after a few moments his eyes flitted towards yours and you saw in them what you hadn’t even realized you were so desperate to see.

He was in love with you.

“I don’t know what got into me,” you finally said. “I love you so much.”

Jihoon raised his hand to your other cheek and pulled you in for a deep kiss. One you chased for when he pulled away and were disappointed to lose once his warmth had left you.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “Now get some rest okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

As unsure as you were to fall asleep again you nodded and curled up in Jihoon’s lap, feeling his jacket get draped over your shoulders like a blanket. This time when you dozed off, you didn’t dream of Jihoon’s fingers leaving yours. You weren’t desperate for his eyesight as he said what you feared the most.

Instead, he rested his head against you, and stared across sandy shores with you as the sun dipped below a pink and purple sky.

“I’ll never leave you.”

And you hadn’t had a nightmare since.

#I swear this is a different fic then Dreams #though even i was surprised by that lfoaefa #Woozi #Seventeen #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Fanfic #Kpop #Kpop Fanfiction #Kpop Fanfic #Woozi AU #Woozi angst #Woozi fanfiction

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

#bnha 262 #miruko #mirko #ujiko daruma #I already forgot his new official name ah well #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #no time for tags!!#movie!!!!

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poutyhannie · 4 years

Photo

Also, I have no idea whether or not Jeongin is insecure or not (I don’t think he is bc have you seen that boy) but please keep in mind this is a fanfic and not reality. It’s just really sweet to comfort a significant other.

warnings: fluffy as jeongin’s hair, college student!jeongin, fem!reader comforting and loving jeongin, showering together

word count: +2k

part 1, part 2

Wearily walking out of your lecture hall, you sling your burdensome backpack over your aching shoulders and prepare for the twenty minute walk back to your apartment. It wasn’t unusual for a college junior to have moved from dorms and into an apartment but it was unusual for a college junior to not have a car.

Because your university was in a densely populated metropolitan area, rent was through the roof. Though school was easy and you could keep up your GPA with relative ease, ‘adulting’ was currently the most difficult part of living for you. Taxes, landlords, jobs, and finding out what to eat consumed what little time left that you had. Though stress and anxiety often left you drowning, you could find comfort in a very special someone.

His bright and cute smile meets you from across the courtyard, despite thousands of students milling about. You exhale a sigh as relief floods your body. Merely seeing Jeongin transforms your day.

He makes his way towards you, dangling his car keys on a pretty little finger, a mischievous smile on his face. “Did you really think that I would just let you walk alllllll the way home?” Jeongin asks, quirking his eyebrow. You guys met in an advanced ancient literature class where the then freshman caught your eye. You told yourself in the beginning that your interest for him was just because of his youth in a class for juniors up. After all, your counselor didn’t even know if you could keep up with the class as a then sophomore. But after you two were put together for a project, you quickly came to the truth that Jeongin was just so adorable and you had to squish his cheeks every day.

So you do. He crinkles his face up and lifts his shoulders, uncomfortable at the public affection but you can tell by the glow in his eyes that he really loves it.

“Yes,” you respond as you both start walking to the student parking lot, “I was gonna change into tennis shoes, actually.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jeongin pout a little, readjusting his backpack so you quickly add, “I thought you still have a midterm left so I assumed you were gonna go back to your dorm to study.”

This seems to placate his pout and he turns his body to you, legs walking awkwardly in an attempt to not trip. “That last midterm was today and I waaaaas going to go back to my dorms but,” he leans closer to you as his calming scent fills your senses, his nose scrunches up in the most adorable way, “I wanted to spend time with you, Y/n.”

You mask your endeared smile with a scoff and poke his cheek. Jeongin rolls his eyes walking straight now, seemingly annoyed at you patronizing him, but you know that deep down he loves it. “That’s good, babyboy. You wanna sleepover?” You ask, peering intently at him.

He smirks as if that were his plan all along, “I packed clothes for it,” he says, gesturing to his backpack. Jeongin grabs your hand, surprising you at the bold move, cutely swinging it around before smiling widely at you. “You’re all finished too, right? If it’s alright with you, my parent said they’re okay with me staying here over break to study but honestly, I just wanna be with you.”

At that, you can’t contain your smile, looking up to meet his playful gaze. “Did you tell them that you’ll be staying with me? Don’t make them pay for dorms if you’re not using it.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his free hand around, “I told them I wanted to stay with you. You seriously sound like my mom though.”

In mock anger, you slap his chest as he pulls out his keys, laughing.

The car ride to your apartment is literally five minutes and you’re so thankful that you don’t need to pass that creepy alleyway to get home. Your apartment is at the top of the building, small, and basically empty other than your books, clothes, and shoes at the front door but its cozy when Jeongin is around. He runs to your bedroom and jumps on your bed, smiling widely at you. “What’dya wanna watch, Y/n? Or we could cook. Are you hungry?”

Though you intend to fling your backpack far into the closet, you don’t really take into account how freaking heavy it is so it thumps down halfway to its destination. Groaning, you kick it all the way to the back of your closet and let out a sigh. Making your way over to the bed, you try to ignore Jeongin’s concerned gaze.

“What’s the matter, Y/n?” He asks cautiously, laying a big, clumsy but warm hand on your shoulder, “Did I say something?”

Pressing you lips in a firm line, you shake your head, guiltily looking up at Jeongin. “I’m just really drained from that last midterm and my professor hates me so I really needed to do well so that she’d give me an A so that I can keep up my GPA for my scholarsh—.”

Jeongin presses a light, unsure kiss to your lips, making you lift your eyebrows in surprise. “I’m sorry, Y/n, do you wanna take a shower to forget?”

A knowing smile spreads across your face at the cheeky boy. “Now I see why you wanted to sleepover, Innie,” you say, laughing, “Sure, let’s take a shower, babyboy.”

He excitedly jumps up and grabs your hanging towel and and rushes to the bathroom. Chuckling to yourself at his cute antics, you grab a pair of panties and root through Jeongin’s backpack for his boxers. You pull out a pale yellow pair that has little green hearts all over them, smiling. Having Jeongin here really lets you calm down and relax. He almost alway seems to know what you want and is more than willing to give it to you.

Almost always.

After making your way into the bathroom, you’re met with a beautifully bare Jeongin, his faint abs in full view as water flows down his face and over his shoulders. Seeing you, he covers his stomach with his arms while the hot water steams up the mirrors.

You tsk your tongue, striping and stepping into the shower. Gently removing his arms from his stomach, glaring up at him, “No, baby, we’ve talked about how much I love your body.”

Jeongin’s cheeks fill with blush and it spreads down his neck. He doesn’t look at you. “I know, it’s just-I’ve seen your ex around campus gym and it just makes me a bit insecure sometimes, ya know?”

Sighing, you pump body wash onto your hands and begin stroking Jeongin’s wet arms, trailing up and down and into his collarbones, down his chest before resting your palms flat on his stomach. “Look at me, babyboy,” you whisper, gazing softly up at him through the water. Eventually, his wandering gaze finds yours and you tilt your head to the side, smiling up at him. It breaks you to see how sad his eyes are though he wraps his arms around you. “I don’t care about my ex. I broke up with him for a reason. You know what that was, Innnie?”

He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to hold back his emotions.

“It was because he was a fucking bastard. I thought he was a genuinely good person but I was just wrong; he just wanted me for my body. But you,” You tap his chest, “you’re a good person. You’re so caring and considerate and not just to me. You put your classmates and teachers first and everything around you feels your love, baby. I fucking love you and it really doesn’t matter to me if you have something as silly as abs or not.”

The earnestness in Jeongin’s puppy eyes breaks you.

“Plus,” you add, smiling, “I really do like your body.”

With that, Jeongin lets go into a wide, beautifully untamed smile, burying his face into your shoulder. You’re not really sure if all of the wetness is from the shower. Placing one hand on his head, running your fingers through his scalp, the other hand pumps some shampoo. Gently, you begin massaging it into his hair. He doesn’t lift his head.

“Babyboy,” you whisper, “you’re gonna get soap in your eyes like that.”

He begrudgingly lifts his head, a full, adorable pout gracing his lips. You can’t help yourself; you press a delicate kiss on them. Rinsing out his hair, Jeongin starts soaping you up to, smiling in spite of himself. “Thanks, Y/n. I really,” he sighs deeply, “I really needed to hear that.”

Closing your eyes, you let the feeling of Jeongin’s fingers in your hair take over your senses. “Is that why you were acting so cute today?” You ask, cracking one eye open to see his reaction.

Jeongin flushes deeply, “No,” he denies, bashfully looking down, only to look back up quickly.

You smile, knowing the reason for his flighty gaze. “Innie, you’ve seen me naked before, why are you like this?”

“I dunno,” he says, a dumb smile on his face, “You’re just really pretty that’s why. And I was acting ‘cute’ because I was excited to be with you.”

You let out a groan at his overwhelming cuteness and nuzzle your nose against his. “Lets finish up and cuddle, yeah? How does that sound to my babyboy?”

Jeongin’s shaky breath fans over your face, “Actually,” he starts, causing your gaze to snap up at him, “I was wondering if we could…You know…”. He trails off, averting his gaze.

A smirk spreads across your face but you quickly shoo it away in favor of a mock concerned expression. “What do you mean, sweetie? I don’t understand what you want, babyboy.”

Jeongin's blush blooms from his neck up and spreads to the tips of his ears like a wildfire. You know exactly what this brat wants and are willing to wait until he confesses. “No-no. Its okay, Y/n. You’re right lets just cuddle.”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of the shower to towel off.

You’re just in Jeongin’s sweatshirt and he’s in one of your shirts, sprawled out on top of you, his cheeks squished against your boobs. He knows what he wants and he knows you know but this bashful baby won’t say anything. Sighing, you sit up, causing Jeongin to roll off you, looking up at you wide-eyed. Maybe you won’t wait till he admits it.

“I am fucking sick and tired of you acting like this, baby.”

The panicked puppy-eyes Jeongin gives you is almost too much to keep your angry act up but you push on. “What were you gonna say in the shower, huh? What was my babyboy wondering if we could do?”

Realization floods your baby’s eyes and his face turns red once again. Knowing he won’t get out of it now, he stutters, “I-I just wanted—I was wondering if we could…You know, since we’re both done with school for now and we’re alone…Like-would you be okay with or do you want to…to like I dunno…make love?” He coughs loudly, covering his face with a hand that you have to pry away.

“See, Kitten?” You murmur, voice dark. Jeongin’s pupils blow out at the petname, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He shakes his head softly and you reach up to gently stroke his blushing ears. “Okay, Innie, when I come back, I expect you stripped and kneeling on the bed. Can you do that for me, Kitten?”

Jeongin gulps and nods vigorously, scrambling to get hisyour shirt off. “Can I please touch myself?” He begs, his pretty eyes wide and glossy. Your stomach burns at the thought of your pretty little baby stroking himself and you nod, “Just no cumming. I know you want to be good for me.” Jeongin whimpers and nods. You smirk and leave the room, leaving him to obey you.

#jeongin #yang jeongin #skz #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #skz jeongin #stray kids jeongin #jeongin fluff #jeongin imagine #jeongin drabble #stray kids soft hours #skz soft hours #skz in #stray kids in

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