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m-ayo-o · 10 months

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Mr. Fushiguro [I]

flirtation and humiliation with your professor part one | part two wc 2200

You have a meeting with Mr. Fushiguro, your personal tutor, this afternoon regarding your dissertation. You're dreading it a little, not only because you're unsure what your project will be, but Mr. Fushiguro is also incredibly intimidating and attractive. You often feel nervous during his seminars, or passing him in the corridor, but being alone with him makes you pretty anxious.

Despite feeling nervous, you arrive outside his office a few minutes early so as not to displease him. He hates tardiness. It seems as though he can hear you hovering outside his door as your knuckles hesitate inches from the wood. “You coming in or what?” You hear his deep voice, muffled from the inside.

You enter, a little startled, and step up to his desk as he flicks through some paperwork. He looks up at you as you stand fidgeting near the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. “Sit.” He mutters and returns to his work. The quick glance he gives you with his striking green eyes is enough to make your heart rate increase as you take your seat.

You feel intimidated by everything he does, everything he says, and it's like he knows you're so weak for him. The way you blush under his gaze and your shy glances at him give you away. You also avoid spending time with him alone, not without him noticing of course.

In fact, he notices and takes advantage of this. He often requests that you stay behind after lectures, just so he can talk to you some more, usually about your studies or just pointless small talk. He enjoys watching you squirm.

But today he can't be avoided. You fiddle with your skirt and wait patiently for him to finish what he's doing. As the clock ticks over to 4pm Mr. Fushiguro sets down his papers he was marking and straightens up in his chair, looking up at you with his piercing green eyes.

“Y/n,” he greets you like he's only just seen you, “remind me what our meeting is about today.”

“I need to decide… what my dissertation project will be, sir,” you reply.

He taps his pen on the table, “Mm hmm. That should be easy for someone like you,” he strokes his neck then stretches his arms over his head, desperate to move after sitting down for too long.

“So, have you had any thoughts, y/n?” You look down, feeling flustered as his muscles flex, his shirt pulling tight over his chest. “Um…” You murmur and twist your hair.

“Look, did you come here for a chat or not?” He asks flatly. Mr. Fushiguro is impatient and snappy at times, which adds to his intimidating personality.

“S-sir, it’s not that I–” you start, unable to find your words as you look up at him again, watching his lips curl into a slight smirk. He’s enjoying the embarrassed look on your face as you can barely look into his eyes.

“So, what is it then?” His voice sounds rough and deep. You look down into your lap again, then try to look up at him, “I, I– I’m sorry, sir. I’m a little stuck for ideas at the moment. Can we discuss this over email?” You blurt out your excuses, unable to withstand his intense glaring for a second longer as you suddenly stand and turn, ready to bolt for the door.

“Y/n.” Mr. Fushiguro’s deep voice stops you in your tracks. He steps around his desk and sits on the edge as you turn to face him. He raises his finger and beckons for you to come back. “I told you to sit. I don’t remember permitting you to leave just yet,” he says as you step back towards him, your legs quivering as you fight the urge to run.

He pats the chair that’s right below him now, encouraging you to sit in front of him again– this time much closer. Although you feel like you're being ensnared in some kind of trap, you sit and peer up at him as he gets comfy on his desk, one leg lazily dangling off the edge as the other props him up. His trousers fit him so well– you can see his defined thigh muscles as the material stretches over him.

“If you’re not going to talk, then I’ll have to start.” He looks down at you with a smile. “I’ll begin with a question– one that you should easily be able to answer. Why do you act like this around me, y/n?” He asks as if it’s the simplest question in the world.

“A-act like what, sir…?” you trail off, realising that he’s going to be dissatisfied by this non-answer. “Don’t answer my question with another question, y/n.” He snaps predictably, furrowing his eyebrows. He waits, tapping a big finger on the wooden desk and raising an eyebrow at you. You know he won’t repeat himself.

“Ok, I’ll try an easier question.” His expression shifts from displeased to curious as he peers down at your blushing face. “Do you find me attractive?” You look down as your hand covers your face. “I-I…” you stumble. “It’s very simple. Yes or no, y/n.”

“Mr. Fushiguro… I, I…” you feel so embarrassed– he must get a lot of attention like this and you figure he might be fed up with it by now; young, inexperienced women fawning over him, unable to express their feelings to him. You presume that he finds it all very bothersome and tiring.

So you try your best to get your head clear and speak to him properly. “Yes, sir.” You say quietly as you look up at him again. “Very good.” He praises you, smiling slightly at your answer. “Now, another question: do you want to fuck me?” He asks flatly.

You can’t help but take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him pleadingly as if to say, please don’t make me answer that. He’s just doing this to humiliate me. You think as you put off answering him for just a little longer.

But his intense eye contact indicates that he wants you to answer right now. You nod, looking away from his eyes. He sighs and taps his finger on the desk, waiting for you to answer him properly.

You sigh, your cheeks and nose blushing pink. “Use your words, y/n. You’re usually very good at expressing your thoughts in class.” He encourages you.

“Yes, sir…” you manage, feeling totally overwhelmed with shame. You can’t believe he made you admit that. Out loud. You just want to disappear. “Well done. Now that we have that cleared up, would you like to talk about your dissertation project with me?” He asks, sounding insincere as a snarky smile spreads over his features.

He knows you can barely form sentences right now, let alone think about your third year research project that will carry most of your grade for your final year and overall degree. You let out a sad sigh, “I, I don’t think I can… right now…” you admit as you look down. You must look pitiful. That just adds to your embarrassment.

“So, you want me to fuck you first, then talk about your project?” Your heart skips a beat. What the fuck did he just say? Your mind is racing– you presume you didn’t hear him right as you look up at him with wide and confused eyes. There’s a long pause before you murmur, “E-excuse me, sir?” You feel your lip trembling.

He really doesn’t like repeating himself. He just sighs through his nose, his patience clearly wearing thin. He gazes over your body, his eyes trailing up your long legs and hovering over your short skirt. His eyes snap up to meet yours, “If you’re having trouble with that, perhaps you shouldn’t be on my course.” He hisses, looking down at you menacingly.

“Y-yes…” you manage, your voice wavering as you don’t know what he’ll do once you’ve answered. He’ll probably kick me out, or maybe he’ll remove me from his course.

“Yes, what?” You can’t take it anymore; the long pauses, the deafening silence, his fierce glaring have all got you feeling feverish. You close your eyes tight, “I want you to fuck me first, Mr. Fushiguro!” You blurt out, finding it easier to talk with your eyes closed.

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” He asks, then pauses, tapping his lip with a big finger. “Shall we see just how badly you want to fuck?” He almost lets out a chuckle, his scar curling over his lips.

You’re so close to letting out a whine as you wait silently in trepidation. “What shall I have you do… ah, first please lock the door, y/n.” You sigh in relief and stand to complete your task.

“Ah, ah…” he stops you, shaking his head, “on your knees.” He sneers. Fuck. You should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that easy. Your big eyes look into his, silently asking him do I really have to do this? “If you don’t want to do it, you can leave.” He says simply, giving you your answer.

You turn and try to pull down your skirt a little, earning a low chuckle from your professor as you look back at him with wide eyes. You know he won’t budge. He’s made up his mind and he’s going to have some fun with you before he fucks you. You’re not even sure if he will fuck you.

You slowly bend down and get on your knees as you begin crawling towards the door. You lock it, turn to face Mr. Fushiguro again and start to stand up. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say a thing, but his piercing eyes stare you down, forcing you back onto your knees. He intimidates you so much.

“C-can I stand up, sir?” He just shakes his head, his eyes following you as you reluctantly lean over, revealing your cleavage to him as your shirt drops.

In the meantime, he’s tilted the blinds and turned on his desk lamp, illuminating the room as you kneel near your chair, wanting to stand up. He looks down at you with a smirk as he’s ready to give you your next instruction.

He makes you tidy his desk, organise his papers, books and stationary. Although this situation is embarrassing, you’re very aware of the fact that he’s turning you on by ordering you around. He’s getting you hot without even touching you.

Next he asks you to sit in his chair and unbutton your shirt. You’re a little hesitant, but you comply, unfastening each button slowly, pausing as you reach just above your bra. “Did I tell you to stop?” He asks, his gaze unfaltering.

You undo one more button then hear a knock at the door. You freeze, sitting below Mr. Fushiguro as he leans on his desk, “Answer it.” Your fingers frantically attempt to button up your shirt. Mr. Fushiguro clicks his tongue, demanding your attention as your eyes dart up to his.

“Did you hear me say ‘do up your shirt then answer the door’?” You shake your head. “No, you didn’t. So answer it like that. You can walk this time.”

Your shirt is barely covering your lacy bra underneath as you answer the door and explain that Mr. Fushiguro is busy. You make some excuses as you quickly close and lock the door again, stepping back towards his desk.

You feel your professor's eyes all over you as you walk towards him. He stops you halfway back and makes you hike up your skimpy skirt. “I can’t believe you decided to wear that to my office.” He shames you for wearing the short skirt, which is kind of revealing (but really cute).

He hands you some books and asks you to place them on the second to top shelf on his bookcase. You can just about reach, tiptoeing and stretching up, but the reason he asked you to do this is becoming apparent as you feel your skirt lifting up further, exposing your cute underwear as your back arches, your ass pushing out.

You're really struggling with one of the books. It's so heavy, your delicate fingertips are having trouble pushing it the last few centimetres onto the shelf. The book suddenly slips from your fingers and falls to the floor, making a loud slamming noise in the quiet office.

You hurriedly bend over to pick it up and try again, but you can hear Mr. Fushiguro clicking his tongue behind you. “That's an expensive edition, y/n. Let me see it.”

You step over to him, his large frame looming over you as you hand him the book, his fingers brushing over yours. He examines the cover, “Looks like you'll have to be punished.” He shrugs and sighs, setting it on his desk.

You try to make your excuses but your professor isn't listening. He beckons for you to come closer. This is the closest you've ever got to Mr. Fushiguro; you feel his breath fanning you and you notice the faintest wrinkles on his handsome face. You stare up at him with wide eyes, daring to meet his.

pt two 💞

toji | m.list

#toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #professor crush #humiliation k!nk #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x self insert #teacher x student #teacher smut

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talkdutchtome · 5 months

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Glitch- chapter eight

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . after the trauma i inflicted on you all last time, i thought i'd treat you to a few chapters of fluffy max x y/n content <3 Also this isn’t proofread unfortunately as i just got done with part of my dissertation and if i look at my computer for another second my brain will explode )

Y/N was left stunned, her mind grappling with the weight of Max's unexpected confession. The vulnerable honesty in his words lingered in the air, and she found herself at a loss for a response. What could she say? She had accepted that Max simply didn’t see her like that and that’s why he left so abruptly; the last thing she thought he was going to say was this.

Max's next words pulled her back to the present moment. "Could you just let me in so we can speak in person?" he requested, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and sincerity.

Y/N, still processing the revelation, stammered, "What?"

"I'm outside your flat," Max confessed. "I know this is unexpected, and I'm sorry for just turning up, but I've been mulling it over in my head. When I realized how I felt, I needed to tell you immediately."

The gravity of the situation settled on Y/N, and she hesitated before responding, “I’m at a bar, with Mas- With the team. They won today and we went out for a few drinks.”

“Oh okay, I’m sorry I’ll leave.” Y/N could hear the deflation in Max’s voice and her heart sunk a bit.

“No, give me 15 minutes and I’ll be there” she spoke before quickly hanging up. She didn’t know what exactly to say to Max, but she knew they needed to talk.

The atmosphere in the bar hummed with celebration as the team and their friends reveled in the victory as Y/N re-entered the bar to inform people that she needed to go. She discreetly approached Mason, her face a mask of determination, and whispered, "I need to go, something came up."

Mason, concerned, furrowed his brow. "Is everything okay?"

Y/N offered a quick nod. "Yeah, just something I need to take care of. We can talk about it tomorrow, I promise."

Mason's eyes searched hers for more answers, but Y/N's resolve was unwavering. "Please, Mason, not now. Tomorrow, I promise," she reiterated, and before he could press further, she pulled away, heading towards the group.

She interrupted the lively conversation with a brief, "I need to head out, guys. See you tomorrow," leaving the group with confused glances. Mason, however, couldn't shake off his concern. He approached her once more, this time with a more direct plea. "Can we at least talk about what happened today?"

Y/N met his gaze, a mix of apology and determination in her eyes. "I really have to go now, Mason. We can talk about everything tomorrow. I'm sorry," she said, a heavy weight in her voice. With that, she turned away, leaving Mason standing there, bewildered and frustrated, with their friends watching the scene unfold.

The night draped itself over the city as Y/N approached her apartment building, the darkness obscuring the details of the world around her. In the dimly lit corner, Max stood waiting. The feeble glow of distant streetlights cast long shadows, rendering their faces almost invisible. Their greeting was muted, a hesitant hug exchanged in the dimly lit vicinity. Neither of them spoke much, the lack of clarity mirrored by the obscured visibility. The shadows seemed to swallow their words, leaving an unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Inside her apartment, harsh lighting unveiled the details that the darkness had concealed. Y/N's neck bore a series of marks, intricate patterns etched in the aftermath of a passionate encounter. The marks, though unintentional, now became vivid tattoos, stark against her skin.

As Max began to say something, his eyes fell upon the visible aftermath, and his words caught in his throat. The room, now flooded with the unforgiving light, accentuated the complexities of the situation. Y/N watched as his face dropped, the color draining from his skin. The realization dawned upon him, and an awkward silence settled in the room. The unspoken weight of Mason's presence loomed over them, turning the atmosphere into an uncharted territory where words faltered, and emotions hung heavy in the air.

She tried to find words to explain, to offer some justification for the marks, but her mind drew a blank. Max, observing the unspoken turmoil in her expression, interrupted her before she could stumble through an explanation.

"Mason?" His voice was devoid of emotion, dry and almost detached. Y/N, feeling defenseless and without a valid explanation, could only nod in response. In her defense, she had none. She could see the gears turning in Max's mind, trying to process the implications of what he'd just learned.

She anticipated Max's departure, expecting him to distance himself from the completely fucked situation that he found himself in through no fault of his own. Instead, however, to her surprise, he didn't retreat. Without uttering another word, Max walked over and took a seat on her couch. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, leaving the room in a suspended state of uncertainty. Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the conversation that loomed before them.

She hesitantly broke the silence, asking, "Aren’t you leaving?"

Max, however, countered with a question of his own, delivered in a measured tone that hung in the air. "Should I?"

Caught in the throes of uncertainty, Y/N admitted, "I don't know."

Max, still processing the situation, confessed his genuine affection for her. "I really like you," he said, his words heavy with sincerity. "But if there's something between you and Mason, something real, you should tell me now. I don't want to stand in the way."

The weight of his words lingered in the room, prompting Y/N to examine her own feelings. Yet, as Max continued, laying out the conditions for their potential future, the complexity of the situation deepened. "Unless you can definitively say that you want Mason and not me, then I'm not going to go away."

He sought clarity, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. "Can you tell me that?" he asked.

Y/N, entangled in the web of her own emotions, shook her head. She really didn’t know much, but she did know that she felt something for Max. She did feel something for Mason too, maybe she always would; but Max made her feel something she had never felt before, and she couldn’t just ignore that.

Max looked at Y/N with a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Do you have any holiday saved up?" he asked.

Y/N, caught off guard, nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I do."

Max took a measured breath, his eyes reflecting a sense of determination. "How about this? Come with me to Monaco for a week, and then it’s Silverstone so you can come with me to that. Two weeks, just you and me. And if, by the end of it, you still want Mason, I'll walk away."

The proposal lingered in the night air, and Y/N felt the gravity of the decision pressing on her. "I... I don't know," she admitted, uncertainty threading through her words.

Leaning in, Max's eyes bore into hers. "Think about it."

Silence enveloped them as Y/N contemplated his proposition.

After a pause, she looked back at him. "I need to talk to Mason, to see if I can get the time off work and also.. Well, I can’t just up and leave for two weeks without an explanation. " she asserted, the resolve in her voice mingling with vulnerability.

Max nodded, acknowledging the necessity for clarity. "Sure. I can book a hotel room for tonight, and then you can talk to Mason tomorrow. If you decide to go, we can leave after that."

"Okay," Y/N agreed, the air thick with unspoken possibilities.

The next day, the weight of anticipation hung in the air as Y/N, accompanied by Max, navigated the familiar path to Mason's house. The drive was a quiet affair, with unspoken tension filling the car. Max, understanding the gravity of the impending conversation, remained in the vehicle as Y/N gathered her courage to face Mason.

Stepping into Mason's home, memories of shared laughter and easy camaraderie clashed with the somber reality of the impending discussion. Mason, sensing the gravity of the moment, met her gaze with a mix of concern and apprehension.

"I need a few weeks off, I’m going to Monaco with Max for a little while," Y/N declared, her voice a delicate blend of determination and vulnerability. Her eyes, once filled with an unwavering spark, now reflected the tumultuous emotions swirling within her.

Mason didn’t know what he expected when Y/N came to his door without any warning, but it wasn’t this. After yesterday, when they had- their moment. How could she just drop this on him, come and tell him that she wanted to go on holiday with someone else.

“What do you mean? What about us, what about me?”

Y/N, torn between loyalty and her evolving understanding of self, shook her head. "I need to, I like Max, and I owe it to myself to be able to give it ago. Being around you is confusing and complicated. I just need a break" she uttered; the weight of the decision etched in her expression.

At her words, she couldn't help but notice the stark change in Mason's expression. His features, once marked by familiarity and warmth, now contorted with a palpable hurt. The lines on his forehead deepened, and his eyes, once a source of comfort, now betrayed a pain he couldn't conceal. It was as if her words had struck a chord, unraveling the threads of their friendship, leaving Mason visibly wounded.

“Please don’t go, I’m sorry I- Well I was wrong before. I do see you as more than a friend," he admitted, laying bare the depth of his feelings.

Yet, Y/N, no longer content with half-truths, posed a poignant question that lingered in the air like an unspoken truth. "Would you feel that way if Max never came along?"

The room fell into a contemplative hush, the unspoken answer lingering like an invisible barrier. Y/N, her heart heavy with the weight of decisions, knew she couldn't settle for uncertainty. "Exactly," she asserted, her voice a mixture of resolve and sorrow. "I don't want to be with someone who only wants me because they don't want somebody else to have me."

In a reluctant tone, Mason finally agreed, "Alright, Y/N, take as much holiday as you need." As she uttered a sincere "thank you," she turned to leave, only to be halted by Mason's hesitant voice. His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse and an unspoken apology, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I ruined everything, and I don't... Well, I'm just really sorry." The weight of his regret lingered, creating a somber atmosphere as Y/N absorbed his admission before uttering. “Yeah.. Me too.” and walking away from her best friend.

As Y/N returned to the car where Max patiently waited, her eyes betrayed a lingering sadness that Max couldn't ignore. Concern etched across his face, he gently inquired, "You okay?" She offered a halfhearted nod, confirming Mason granted her the time off. Despite her affirmation, Max sensed something amiss. "You sure?" he pressed, genuine worry in his voice. She shook her head, signaling a preference to keep it to herself.

The atmosphere remained heavy with unspoken words. The engine roared to life, and they merged onto the road, the rhythmic hum of the tires the only sound between them. Max stole glances at her, concern etched on his face, but respecting her need for silence.

After a stretch of quietude, Max broke the stillness. "I need to pick someone up at the factory, they need to go back to Monaco too" he mentioned, his eyes focused on the road. Y/N nodded, speaking for the first time in a while “Okay no worries, who?”

"It's Daniel," Max revealed, the name hanging in the air. At Max’s words, her eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "No way, Daniel, as in Daniel Ricciardo?!?" she exclaimed, the unexpected joy momentarily pushing aside the shadows. Max couldn't help but smile at her animated response, grateful for the chance to divert her thoughts from whatever weighed on her.

Max chuckled at Y/N's admission, teasingly asking, "A fan of Daniel, huh?" She grinned, nodding, "Yeah, even though I grew up a Mercedes fan, there's always been something about Daniel." Max laughed, "Well, he'll enjoy hearing that. He's been excited to meet you." Y/N blushed at the idea, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Have you told people about me?" Max's demeanor shifted slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. He jokingly responded, "Well, when I stopped making up excuses to get out of coming to the factory, they knew something was up."

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine melded seamlessly with the soft daylight as they continued their journey. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the cityscape passing by—a lively backdrop for the evolving conversation within the car.

Max skillfully guided their dialogue through diverse topics, carefully avoiding any mention of Mason. Despite the apparent ease in their exchanges, a delicate undercurrent of tension lingered—an unspoken presence that painted the atmosphere with a muted complexity. Max, attuned to the subtleties, felt the weight of Mason's words pressing upon Y/N's thoughts.

As they traversed the city, Max occasionally stole glances at Y/N, his eyes seeking clues within the nuances of her expressions. There was a magnetic pull between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the uncharted territory they navigated. Max sensed that Mason's remarks had imprinted themselves on Y/N's consciousness, like an indelible mark that begged exploration.

Yet, Max exercised restraint, choosing not to pry into the depths of Y/N's emotions. Instead, he allowed the daylight to unfold, leaving room for the unspoken to gradually find its voice

The car pulled up at the designated spot to pick up Daniel, and as he stepped into the car, a vibrant energy accompanied him. Daniel greeted Y/N with a warm smile, his friendly demeanor putting everyone at ease. The introductions flowed naturally, and Daniel couldn't resist a playful comment.

"So, this is the infamous girl Max can't stop talking about," he teased, shooting a playful glance Max's way.

Y/N chuckled, feeling a mix of amusement and curiosity about what Max might have shared. As they continued the journey to the private jet, the conversation effortlessly ebbed and flowed. Y/N and Daniel discovered common interests and shared laughs, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie that surpassed the typical introductions. The initial awkwardness melted away, leaving room for genuine connections to form.

Upon reaching the private jet, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the luxurious surroundings. The sleek interior, plush seats, and attentive service were a stark contrast to her usual mode of travel. Her excitement spilled into the conversation.

"Wow, this is amazing! I've never been on a private jet before. It's like a whole different world up here," she exclaimed, taking in the opulent surroundings. Daniel grinned, his eyes reflecting her enthusiasm. "Get used to it; you're in for a treat. Flying private is a game-changer," he remarked, settling into his seat.

Amidst the smooth hum of the jet engines, Y/N, engaged in an animated conversation with Daniel, seemed oblivious to Max's watchful eyes. Her laughter was infectious, punctuating the air and drawing everyone into the magnetic orbit of her joy. Max couldn't deny the fascination that swelled within him as he witnessed her seamlessly fitting into his world, connecting effortlessly with one of his closest friends.

For Max, the allure went beyond the surface. He liked the feeling of introducing Y/N to his realm, of sharing moments and friends with her. Watching her throw her head back in laughter, observing the spark in her eyes, Max found himself entranced by the unique melody she brought to the symphony of his life.

Meanwhile, Daniel, ever the observer, noted Max's subtle yet profound shift. It was as if he'd discovered a new rhythm in the music of his own existence. Daniel had never seen Max act so reserved, so captivated by someone's presence.

As the jet touched down in the Monaco, Daniel, having fulfilled his role as the transient third wheel, bade them farewell. Max guided Y/N through the picturesque streets to his apartment, a chic abode that overlooked the azure Mediterranean Sea.

Max's apartment, perched atop a hill, boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the breathtaking panorama of Monaco's coastline. The decor seamlessly blended modern aesthetics with subtle nods to the city's classic charm. Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the tasteful art pieces adorning the walls and the plush furnishings that invited relaxation.

On the terrace, Max pointed out the landmarks below—the glittering marina, the famous Casino de Monte-Carlo, and the labyrinthine streets that told tales of luxury and opulence. The breeze played with Y/N's hair as she took in the view, the sun casting a warm glow over the city.

Inside, Max introduced her to his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, who surveyed her with a mix of curiosity and indifference. The apartment resonated with a sense of Max's personality—elegant, sophisticated, and a touch playful.

Leading her to the spare room, Max revealed an unexpected surprise. The room was elegantly decorated, adorned with fresh flowers, creating an inviting and serene ambiance. Y/N, genuinely touched, couldn't help but express her gratitude. Max casually mentioned that he'd arranged for his cleaner to work her magic during their flight.

As Y/N settled into the room, a wave of fatigue washed over her. She thanked Max once more for the thoughtful gesture and embraced him before retreating to the comfort of the bed. Max assured her that dinner reservations were secured for later, and with a gentle smile, he left her to rest, closing the door softly behind him. The room, now silent, cradled Y/N into a peaceful slumber as the sun dipped below the Monaco horizon.

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aurumacadicus · 2 months

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I finished binging Miss Fisher again:

"So why did you fall out with Howard, anyway?" Steve asked, slouching down in his seat as the car inched up the driveway. He hadn't asked before, and as he'd watched Peggy's hands tighten on the steering wheel as they passed through the gates to the Stark mansion, it finally occurred to him to wonder why he wasn't still involved with SHIELD after being one of the founders of SSR.

Peggy worked her jaw delicately. "We had a disagreement about values," she finally said.

"I can't imagine why," Steve muttered, and relaxed a little when the corner of Peggy's mouth curled up.

"Well, he'll surely enjoy me coming to him for help," Peggy added with a sigh, pulling to a stop. She took a moment to take a deep, fortifying breath, then let it back out slowly, giving Steve a glance out of the side of her eye. "And that I'm bringing you."

"I can thank him for looking for me so long," Steve agreed, and turned to unfold himself out of the car as Peggy did the same. Even though she was in her sixties, she was still sprier than he was; cars had gotten smaller while he was in the ice, somehow.

The door opened before they could knock or ring the bell, and Peggy brightened a little, greeting, "Mr. Jarvis."

"Ms. Carter," Mr. Jarvis answered, voice clipped, and her smile faltered as quickly as it had arrived. He bowed slightly, motioning toward the sitting room on the left. "Mr. Stark will be down to see you presently."

Steve took it as the dismissal it was, wondering at Peggy's reaction. There was so much about her that he didn't know. So much about the world he didn't know. His years in the ocean had done him no favors. He stared at a painting of peaches and tried not to think about how much he'd lost. Then his ears caught the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and he turned, clasping his hands behind his back as he instinctively fell into parade rest.

The man coming down the stairs was not Howard, Steve realized, even though he looked a lot like him. Anthony, he remembered the file saying. Howard's son. Steve hadn't believed Howard would ever settle down, but here was proof, walking casually down the stairs as if they had all the time in the world. To their surprise, he used the post at the bottom of the stairs to swivel directly to face the sitting room they'd been directed toward, walking over like he was meant to be there.

"Tony," Peggy said, and she was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Aunt Peggy," Tony answered, voice measured. He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Or should I be calling you that?"

Peggy sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, looking vaguely annoyed, then opened them again. "Tony, I'm here to see your father."

"I'm the only Mr. Stark here," Tony told her flatly, scowling. "You'd know that if you ever called. Mom said she wanted to take a trip around the world while they still had their health, and they left three months ago. You'd know that if you read the society papers." He waved his hand dismissively. "And just so you know? I'm not really inclined to help. You didn't make it to a single one of my dissertations even though I invited you. You stopped coming to my birthday parties. You didn't even come to my coming out party," he added, and that last part was where Steve finally heard perhaps the first real emotion Tony had shown since he appeared on the stairs--hurt.

Omega, Steve remembered suddenly, at the mention of a coming out party. Tony didn't carry himself like the typical omega, he thought, tilting his head a little. But then, high society always carried themselves a little differently, he remembered. Howard had never carried himself like any of the alphas Steve had grown up with. It stood to reason that Tony would be much the same.

"Tony," Peggy began gently. "I'm sorry that my falling out with Howard affected you, too. I should have tried harder to stay in touch. But you were a child when that happened."

"And I was just as much of a pain in the ass then," Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes. "If they made a fuss about me talking to you, I would have just screamed the house down. I was good at it," he added with a huff.

Steve figured with the way Peggy winced, he was telling the truth.

"Whatever. I don't want to hash this out. What does SHIELD need from my dad? I'll pass the message on when they call next week," Tony continued before she could say anything else. "Maybe. If I feel like it."

Peggy looked like she was considering pressing him, but whatever she saw in his face, it made her back down. "It's about your mother's gala, Tony."

At that, Tony's gaze sharpened, shoulders straightening as his posture changed from dismissive to alert. "I'm in charge of the the foundation while Mom's on vacation," he said, sharp-edged and stern. "What would Dad have to do with that?"

"Hydra is trying to reestablish a foothold in New York," Steve finally answered, taking a step forward. "They intend to slither in through charities, because they believe it's easier to launder money that way. We believe several members will be trying to infiltrate the Maria Stark Foundation, and the gala will be where they make their move."

Tony swiveled to him, eyes calculating. "And who the fuck is this?"

Peggy glanced at him sharply, silencing Steve from answering. "This is the lead agent on the case, Agent Roger Stevens."

Tony pursed his lips, and the look he gave Steve wasn't entirely disgust, but it wasn't... not entirely disgust, either. Steve found himself sweating a little, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

"I suppose if I tell you that I'll take care of it, you'll poke your nose in anyway. Omega can't handle it," Tony said, lifting his chin at him aggressively.

Oh, Steve thought, wondering if this was how Bucky felt when Steve had raised his chin at him and asked, 'You wanna fight, too?' Tony thought that Steve believed he was incapable. "I'm sure you can handle it," he answered carefully when Peggy simply raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat when Tony rocked back on his heels, clearly skeptical. "I just wonder. How you're going to arrest anyone. You need... authority from a governing body to do that."

Tony stared at him, unimpressed. Steve let the moment hang there, waiting. Adding anything else would be too risky, too likely to offend him. Steve had, unfortunately, not gotten any better at interacting with omegas. The only tried and true way to stay on their good sides, he'd found, was to shut the fuck up.

"So citizen's arrest doesn't count?" Tony finally asked.

"You have to hand the person you arrested over to a judge or police officer. I can detain them at SHIELD," Steve answered, and he thought he sounded pretty reasonable.

Tony scoffed. "Why? What can you do that the police can't?"

"Waterboard them, obviously," Steve deadpanned, then winced when Peggy's elbow rammed into his kidney.

"We do not waterboard our prisoners. We are not the CIA," Peggy told Tony sternly.

Tony's mouth dropped open into a surprised little 'o.' Then he threw his head back and laughed, loud, and Steve saw Peggy's shoulders relax, just a little. Maybe this would work out, Steve thought, allowing himself a small smile.

#ideas #stony #omegaverse

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little-diable · 11 months

Text

Lucky Shirt - Prof!Benedict Cumberbatch (smut)

I got the chance to work with @writingliv once again – yes, I am very much fangirling, y'all know how much I adore Liv – and boy, I am so proud of us and of this beautiful fic we've written together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Cumberbatch was perfect. He was sweet, supportive, ever-willing to help. He was attentive and loved to praise your achievements. It came to no surprise that you had ended up trying and succeeding at becoming his favourite student. The two of you had become an unstoppable duo, however, could there be more than mere passion for academia behind it?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, lots and lots of tension, small sprinkles of angst, age gap, professorxstudent relationship

Pairing: Prof!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!reader (about 9k words, she's a long one)

Professor Cumberbatch led a life full of rules, keeping clear schedules, boundaries, and conversations. Honest, passionate, and helpful would probably be the three words most people would use to define him. A life dedicated to teaching, to helping, to learning. He never swayed away from his clear-cut schemes unless it was for somebody else’s benefit. Selfless… Professor Cumberbatch was also incredibly selfless.

You, however, would think this set of facts did not do justice to his character. Professor Cumberbatch was not just selfless. He was an absolute saint. He had been your point of guidance since you first joined his class in your last year of undergrad and had offered you a place as a research assistant as a Master’s student. He had happily stayed until late hours helping you with your first dissertation and had never failed to answer any question related-or-not to his topic. Benedict Cumberbatch was your hero, which made your crush on him so much more inappropriate.

You had tried to stop thinking about him that way, feeling guilty at the idea that this saint of man was so willing to help you and take you under his wing, and all you did was fantasise about him breaking all the university rules and fucking you. It was an awful feeling, especially when you were sure he didn’t feel the same way, but it was something you couldn’t yet find a way to get rid of.

So here you were, sitting in his office, wearing that baby blue shirt he had once complimented a year ago or so, waiting for him to come back with news on whether you had been accepted to attend the most important conference in your field. You had excused your continuous wear of the shirt by referring to it as your lucky colour, making it the perfect attire for any important moment you had shared with the professor.

Your black heels had been incessantly tapping his beautiful Persian rug as you tried your best not to bite your nails when the door of the office finally opened incredibly slowly, and a gloomy Cumberbatch appeared on the opposite side wearing a shirt of a starkly similar colour as yours. “I am sorry…” he started to speak, and you felt your heart drop immediately, your hands moving to your face, covering it. “That you will have to cancel all your plans for the week April 19th because we are going to the conference!” He shouted your way, a gigantic crooked smile filling his mischievous face. You couldn’t believe it, instantly uncovering your face and checking his expression for a bluff.

You couldn’t help yourself jumping up from the excitement and reaching for him, giving him a hug. Your professor seemed to equally disregard all decorum, wrapping his hands around your waist before whispering to your ear, “it seems like your lucky colour works.” You tried your best to hide the growing warmth on your cheeks as he let go of you.

“Thank you so much for this! I am so excited! I cannot believe it!” You replied once the two of you were at an appropriate distance again, still looking at each other with the utmost admiration and excitement.

“Do not thank me. You did this all yourself. I just had to answer a reference request, and you may be surprised about this, but I find it incredibly easy to tell people how incredible you are.”

…

“Can anybody tell me when Operation Overlord was fought?” Professor Cumberbatch’s voice echoed through the classroom, eyes flickering to meet yours at any given chance. It felt like you two were playing a game, a game whose rules you have long forgotten, unable to focus on anything but him.

Him, the one you dream of when the nights grow warmer, when the heat fills your bedroom like the heat filling your veins whenever he speaks to you.

Him, the one that makes you tremble whenever his skin meets yours, never in an inappropriate way, though forced closer like magnets unable to part.

Him, the man that popped up in your thoughts when you wake and when you are about to fall asleep. An ever present sensation you slowly but surely adapted to.

You didn’t pay attention to the answer of the student that tried to catch the professor’s attention for the past minutes. Your thoughts weren’t able to grow quiet, a loud sound that rang through your mind like a song you couldn’t stop singing. It was wrong, so awfully wrong, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from craving his touch, wanting to feel his body pressed against yours without any clothing caught in between.

Professor Cumberbatch needed a few moments to rip his eyes from your features, breaking eye contact with a slight scowl tugging on his face. The nagging voice inside your head made you wonder if he was annoyed with the other student for cutting your shared moment short. There was always something so intense about the way he looked at you, forcing you to sit straighter, eyes unable to move away.

“Anything else you want to add to today’s lesson? If not, you are good to go.” Your heart picked up its beat as his eyes found yours once again, a silent way of communicating, asking you to stay behind for a few more moments. The other students pushed past you all too impatiently, wanting to flee from the classroom, but you didn’t move, not able to even try to imagine another place where you’d rather be.

“I won’t hold you back for long, I just wanted to give you these folders. It’s everything they gave me for the conference.” Your fingers brushed his as you took the folder, breath hitched in your chest. His eyes followed your every move, watching you thumb through the papers, unable to bite down your smile.

“I am so excited, I can’t wait for us to go there!” Your voice left him smiling, unable to bite down his excited grin. Your nerves were running wild, wondering how being at the conference with him will play out, praying to whoever was listening that you’d be able to also focus on something else besides the gorgeous professor you wanted to call yours.

…

Soft music filled Professor Cumberbatch’s office, ringing in your ears without distracting you from the essays you were grading with the professor. It wasn’t unusual for you to join in on his later sessions, finding comfort in his closeness, even though you wouldn’t share many words, just a few glances here and there.

“What is it? You are biting your lip again.” Professor Cumberbatch’s voice ripped you out of your trance, eyes snapping up from the paper. Heat flushed through you as you let go of your lip, teeth no longer buried in the warm flesh.

“Sorry, I struggle to follow their argumentation, it simply makes no sense, and you know how much I hate saying this.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to interrupt the calm atmosphere you two were trapped in. You watched him move closer, admiring the way he carried himself, the way his beige trousers hugged his legs, and how the rolled up sleeves of his black dress shirt exposed just enough of his muscular forearms and the watch clinging to his left wrist. Fuck, you’d dream of this tonight, you were sure of it.

“Let me have a look.” The professor sat down next to you on the comfortable sofa placed in the far back of his office. The scent of his cologne crawled up your nostrils, making you shudder as his leg was pressed against yours. His eyes carefully followed the sentence you had highlighted, concentrating on the arguments the student seemed to have struggled with. “Yes, I see what you mean. Leave it on my desk later, I’ll add some comments myself.”

He pushed the essay back into your hands, eyes meeting yours. Neither one of you dared to move, eyes not wanting to break contact, hearts calling out to one another without finding the right words to express what was burning on the tip of your tongues. He broke the intense moment first, clearing his throat before he rose back to his feet.

“I think I’ve kept you here long enough, you should get some rest and start packing your bags.” Disappointment filled your system, slowly nodding your head as a quiet “Of course” left your lips. And with one last glance shared, you left his office with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

…

You arrived at your apartment and dropped on your bed, sighing loudly. It was getting too difficult to deal with, to keep your gazes in check, to keep him from knowing how you felt. It was overwhelming. It was driving you crazy. You were growing so desperate for any hint of reciprocation that you had started to imagine things, seeing lust in his gaze when it couldn't be there, when it shouldn’t be there.

You decided to check your already packed bag one more time, giving into the parting words of your professor. All the outfits for the conferences lay perfectly organised in your bag, each accompanied by a pair of matching lingerie. No. you were not planning on sleeping with anyone at this event. It was just an old trick that you had once read; wearing matching lingerie makes you feel confident even outside of the bedroom.

You were about to close the bag when your phone rang on your nightstand. You picked it up, surprised to see Professor Cumberbatch calling you at almost 1 am.

“Hello?” you picked up, your fingers playing with the silky material of the matching nightgown to your lingerie.

“Hey there, apologies for the late phone call,” his voice sounded tired and stressed. You knew exactly how badly he wanted all his students to do well, and grading always put him in a bit of a bad mood.

“No problem, Professor. Is everything okay?” your question was filled with worry as you sat down on your bed and wondered if he was still in his office.

“I was just thinking about our conversation from earlier, and I was worried you would think I dismissed you because you couldn’t finish correcting that paper. You know how much I appreciate you helping me with corrections, and I wouldn’t want you to think anything bad of my dismissal. It was just so late and… I sometimes worry that I am stealing all your time. I am sure you have better things to do on a Saturday night than spend it with me, correcting papers with me.” He ranted away nervously. You could hear the sound of his dress shoes in the background as he paced through the room.

“There is no other place I’d rather be,” you blurted out right away, immediately realising the finality of that statement.

“Really?” he chuckled bitterly, “I am sure any other woman your age would disagree. Your twenties are important for your career but also to go out, have fun, make friends, and make mistakes. Please don’t let me keep you away from doing all of those things.”

“I am having fun, and I have friends,” you laughed, slightly hurt that he thought you were a complete loser.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckled, embarrassed.

“No, professor, I am not quite sure. From what I understand, you think I am a loser with no friends or fun,” you laughed, teasing him further.

“What I was trying to say is that there are significantly funner things to be doing on a Saturday than correcting papers with me. At your age, I was doing much more interesting things, at least.”

“What were you doing, Professor?” It was an inappropriate question, especially in the tone you had spoken it. You were not sure where it had come out from, but the exhaustion and comfort of your bed had pulled it out of you.

“I don’t know…” he seemed to be thinking, trying to understand himself where he wanted to draw a line before this conversation broke his rules, “I was partying, drinking, getting into trouble, trying to get girls.”

“I do all of those things,” you replied confidently, a foxy smile on your lips and a particularly strong inflexion in the all.

“Girls?” he asked, cursing himself right away for falling into your obvious trap.

“Girls… boys…” you laughed, “I am usually not the one trying, though. Especially recently, nobody has really caught my interest that way.”

“I guess I should take advantage of it and continue to monopolise your time until you do,” his answer sent a shiver down your spine. It was late, and neither of you was thinking perfectly straight.

“I think you should,” you replied before a yawn took over your voice.

“I should let you get some sleep. We have a long week ahead of us. See you at the station tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Professor.”

…

You watched the scenery pass by, the lush green countryside, the houses that seemed empty and once left behind in a hurry to disappear from rural places like these. Your heart ached at the thought, finding sadness in the empty places, wondering who had once lived inside these buildings.

It had been a good two hours since you had met the professor at the railway station, boarding the train to the conference. And while he was sitting next to you, elbows and thighs close to touching, eyes focused on a book he was reading, you didn’t find the needed comfortableness to focus on your book nor on your notes.

Your mind painted a colourful picture, wondering how the upcoming day with him so close would play out. Even though you were used to seeing him every single week, this was something new, something exciting, something that left you gasping for air.

“Are you cold?” His voice stroked your limbs like the soft April breeze, hands instinctively finding your arms.

“No, I’m alright, thank you.” You shot him a tired smile, cursing yourself for going to bed that late. A yawn clawed through you, eyes momentarily fluttering close. Perhaps you’d be able to find a few moments of rest, nothing long, though just enough to settle your mind and heart.

It felt like a trick of your brain, focusing on the elbow that was slowly pressing against yours, the forearm that met yours on the armrest separating your seats. Your heart was back to jumping in your chest, pounding louder than the rattling noises of the train.

While your mind started overthinking his move, trying to read between the lines, your body seemed to understand what it was supposed to do. All too slow, you placed your head on his shoulder, eyes not daring to flutter open in case you read the signs wrong. A soft exhale of air left the man, hand finding your knee to squeeze your soft skin.

“Get a bit of rest.” His voice successfully managed to lull you to sleep, heart slowly but surely finding a pace that would allow you to rest.

…

“We are here,” a voice shook you softly awake as you realised you had fallen asleep on the man’s arm. You instantly retracted back to your seat, putting as much distance as the train allowed. He looked at you entertained as he stood up, offering you his hand so you could do the same.

You grabbed it slowly, savouring the way his slender long fingers held yours so confidently and got up.

“The hotel is just a 10-minute walk from the station,” Cumberbatch added as he brought down both of your bags from the shelf at the top and then handed you yours.

…

You made sure to fill up the walk with every possible fun fact you had on the city, describing the few monuments you passed by and making sure you to search for your professor’s eyes, incredibly afraid that you had crossed a line by falling asleep on him. He listened to every single one of your words attentively, nodding and smiling as you made the third energy joke in a row.

“We are here,” Cumberbatch finally interrupted you, pointing at a beautiful historic hotel. You exhaled, thankful that soon you would be able to be in your room, away from him, and finally able to think straight.

The two of you entered the hotel and approached the reception, where a pretty, tall girl offered you a smile. “Hi, how are you? We have a four-night reservation under the name Cumberbatch. Two rooms.”

“Mmh… Cumberbatch?” the woman spoke back as she typed the name. A worried expression crossed her face before she looked up, meeting your eyes first and then the professor’s. “I only have one room for two reserved. Not two rooms.”

“That cannot be.” Benedict’s voice was firm and serious as he calmly placed his arms on the front desk.

“I am very sorry. People sometimes get confused when booking from more than one person and assume there are separate rooms.” She spoke politely, showing her best apologetic look.

“I will then pay for an extra room,” Benedict replied, not once turning to look at you.

“We are fully booked,” the woman replied, pressing her lips together, “I am very sorry.”

“There must be SOME available room,” he doubled down before you interrupted him.

“It is fine. We can make it work. The room has a couch, right?” You tried to ease off the tension, smiling at both your professor and the receptionist.

…

“I am so sorry. I have no idea how this mistake could have happened,” Benedict apologised for the tenth time as you reached the elevator, his eyes as soft and heavy as he tried to find a solution to this situation.

“Professor, it is completely fine.” You finally stopped him as the two of you entered the elevator, “there is a couch in the room. I am happy to sleep there.”

“I won’t let you sleep on the couch,” he replied, shocked that you would even think that was an option.

You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to decipher whether this was a dream or your worst nightmare. All you wanted right now was to be alone, to be by yourself, away from the overwhelming need this man filled you with. You had no idea how you would survive sleeping in the same room, regardless of whether it was on a couch, on a bed or on the ground.

The two of you walked towards the room’s door as Benedict bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from apologising again. He opened the door and was met with a queen-sized bed and a tiny minuscule couch. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning back around to you to apologise once again, but you stopped him.

“Let’s grab dinner! I heard some people from the conference are also staying at the hotel and grabbing dinner close by! Let’s go!” You patted him on the back and dropped your bag, ready to leave the room and what it would bring in the following days.

His heavy steps pounded against the ground, following you back towards the elevator. An almost uncomfortable silence was now following you two around, urged on by the inappropriate thoughts you both couldn’t shake off. Perhaps dinner would manage to distract the two of you for a moment, letting go of the tension and relaxing in comfortable chairs with other academics close by.

…

“Some more wine?” Benedict’s breath tickled your neck, forcing you to swallow loudly as you wordlessly reached your glass out for him to refill. His gaze was stuck on your features, on the smile you couldn’t stop from widening whenever he spoke up, murmuring facts about the academics you were now surrounded by.

“You have to tell us, (y/n), how does working with a stubborn man like Benedict Cumberbatch work out?” Your chuckles rumbled through you, eyes finding the piercing ones of the man sitting next to you. By now, you have forgotten most facts Benedict had shared with you, could barely remember their names, and yet you tried to play along, elbows placed on the table with your face placed in your hands.

“Let me tell you, it’s an utter nightmare.” Laughter boomed through the evening, through the garden that surrounded a few tables and chairs. The cosy atmosphere that lingered in the restaurant eased some of your tension from earlier, allowing the two of you to breathe calmly. “I am very lucky to have him by my side. No other professor has ever taught me this much.”

The hand of his that was resting on the back of your chair found your shoulder, fingers stroking your skin softly to communicate the gratitude he was feeling. Benedict was all too used to praises, and yet your words had a new meaning to them, making him sit a bit straighter as he began to pay attention to how some of his colleagues looked at you, unable to bite down their curiosity.

“I am the lucky one, I’ve rarely met students as bright as (y/n).” Heat flushed through you, forcing you to take another sip of your wine. You weren’t nearly as tipsy as you wanted to be, unable to accept his praises, the words he spoke that left your insides churning in excitement.

“Be careful, Benedict, otherwise, we may steal her from you.” One of the men sitting close to Benedict spoke the words without much thought, or so it seemed, not expecting the hard expression to widen on Benedict’s features. The professor didn’t reply, eyes searching yours as you shot him a small smile, hand finding his knee before you could give the gesture much thought. His muscles tensed underneath your hand, but before you could even try to move your hand away, he placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing yours.

“We had a long day, we should catch up on some sleep. Have a good evening.” Benedict’s words forced you to your feet, murmuring a soft “Goodbye” to the others. Your breath got stuck in your lungs as Benedict’s hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he guided you out of the restaurant. Once again, you felt your thoughts race, focusing on the way his fingers stroked your clothed waist, guiding you through the warm evening towards the hotel.

No further word was spoken as you stepped into the elevator, standing in front of Benedict with your eyes searching his. You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, praying deep inside that he’d finally close the gap. The two of you stood closer than needed, with his hand still placed on your waist and your hand finding his other one. Perhaps this was the moment you had been desperate for years, hoping that he’d finally cross the invisible line between you.

The mere thought of finally feeling his body pressed against yours left heat to fill your veins, heart pounding in your chest. But before either one of you could move again, the elevator came to a halt, forcing the two of you to step out. Only as the darkness of your shared hotel room lured you closer did you begin to realise that the night wouldn’t end like you had hoped it would.

He turned on the light and spoke, “I will take a shower before going to sleep, but don’t wait up for me, sleep well, (y/n). Please take the bed.”

…

Benedict entered the bathroom and left you alone in the bedroom, leaving you to wonder what you had possibly done wrong to ruin such a perfect moment, to stop him from kissing you. You sat on the bed, defeated, as you heard the sound of the shower turning on. Fuck. Maybe it was the alcohol or the burning feeling on your skin, but this felt like too much, too close, too little. It was ridiculous, nothing that deserved you crying over it, yet you could feel your eyes tearing up. The need was too much. He was too much. It almost felt unfair for him to leave you wanting the way he did.

As the sound of the shower stopped just for a second, you snapped out of your pity party, cleaning the tears from your face and getting changed before your professor could exit the room. You opened your bag and searched for your pyjama, only then realising you had brought your nightgown as your only sleeping option. You sighed loudly, covering your face and then dropping your arms to decide.

“Fuck it,” you spoke to yourself as you took off your clothes, putting on the nightgown that barely covered your ass and left little to the imagination for much else. If he could tease you all night, touching your waist, looking at you the way he did, you could do the same and even if he was not interested at all. Even if you had made every sign up in your mind, no man would not at least be tempted by such an outfit.

The bathroom door opened a few seconds later as you were busy folding your clothes back into your bag. You didn’t even dare to turn around to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment overcome the boldness of the alcohol.

Your professor cleared his throat, and you finally met his gaze, feigning being completely and totally oblivious to what you were wearing. His blue eyes looked almost black by how dilated his pupils were, and you couldn’t help but offer him an innocent smile. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt and some grey pyjama pants.

“I am sorry. I didn’t think I would be sharing my room tonight,” you acknowledged the outfit, walking by his side, brushing his arm just so slightly before entering the bathroom with your toothbrush at hand.

Benedict had to command every single one of his muscles not to turn around, not to look at you walk into the bathroom, not to follow you, to pin you against the sink and fuck you right there.

You left the door of the bathroom open as you brushed your teeth, giving him the possibility to look into to watch as the hem of your nightgown rose high enough to show the curve of your ass. He, however, didn’t. Going straight to his couch and grabbing a pillow and duvet from the cupboard, and laying down.

You exited the bathroom excitedly, hoping to have one more chance to tease him before heading to bed but found him already deep asleep. Facing the back of the couch as he uncomfortably tried to fit within it.

…

POV Benedict

He didn’t dare move, eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapped around his too tall frame for a couch this small. Benedict tried to listen to your breaths, counting them to try and figure out if you were already asleep. His cock was aching, twitching in his boxers in a desperate need to be touched by you.

Fuck, he felt like a young boy, unable to guide his body, to pick up on his needs and urges, and to stop himself from giving in before it got too much. He hadn’t expected you to wear something like this, something that left his heart racing, pumping blood straight to his cock. It was torture, the worst situation he had been forced to live through so far, Benedict was convinced of it.

The second his mind painted a picture of your body pressed against his, he shot up from the couch, searching the false comfort the bathroom offered him, door falling shut with a thud. He could only hope that you were truly asleep by now, not picking up on his movements, the heavy breaths leaving him.

His hand pushed his boxers down his legs, just enough to free his hard cock. Precum was bearding his tip, veins shining through the thin skin, fuck, how much he wanted to feel and see your hands wrapped around him. Would you use your mouth on him? Would you stroke your tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking on his tip?

A heavy moan threatened to leave him, caught seconds before it could echo through the bathroom. His teeth left marks on his lower lip as his hand picked up its pace, fucking himself without any mercy, working on the fleeting time night offered him. Deep down, he hated himself for pushing you away this very night, wondering why he hadn’t given in, why he hadn’t chased the closeness you had been willing to offer. But something had held him back, something he was now regretting.

He couldn’t stop another moan from not leaving him, eyes squeezed shut, head rolled back. His orgasm was close, a desperate need to finally get over the sensations the mere sight of you had pushed through him. Benedict had to stop himself from choking on your name, from talking to the (y/n) he imagined kneeling in front of him.

With one last heavy breath leaving him, white cum began to cover his hand, sticking to his skin. Benedict pumped his cock a few more times before he let go of his cock, settling down on the toilet seat.

…

POV Reader

This night probably counted as the top three worst nights of sleep in your life. You had spent it between nightmares and sweats, waking up every couple of hours, feeling incredibly restless. You were thankful to see that it was already 7 am the next time you were shaken awake by another terrible dream. It took you a second to ground yourself; remember where you were. You instantly turned to the couch and found it empty, the bedsheets of your professor perfectly folded on top of it.

You scanned the rest of the room, sitting up, finding it equally as empty. A mix of disappointment and relief filled your chest as you were equal parts thankful he wouldn’t have to see you with this exhausted face and sad you didn’t even get a glance at how he looked right after he woke up in the morning.

You checked your phone and found a message from him, “Good morning! I wanted to give you some privacy before the big day. I will be waiting for you at the lounge if you want to grab breakfast together.”

You smiled at the message, forgetting all about last night. Everything was okay. The two of you were okay. He was your professor, after all, your rock. He had every right to reject you. Everything was okay.

…

You took your time getting ready, trying the different outfits you had brought as options and opting for the simplest one. Your ‘lucky’ shirt, some black suit trousers, and black stilettos. You exited the room confidently, your bag with your presentation at hand and your earphones in your ears. Your “gameday” playlist playing at full volume.

You entered the hotel lounge, finding your professor sitting on a beautiful leather couch, a newspaper on his lap. He was wearing a white button-up and some navy trousers. You approached him eagerly, removing your earphones and greeting him with a smile, “good morning, professor.”

“Good morning,” Benedict spoke, not meeting your gaze once. Eyes stuck on the newspaper.

“Should we get breakfast?” You kept on the smile, sure, he was just very enthralled by whatever he was reading.

“I have actually already eaten,” he replied with a sigh, intensifying his gaze on the paper. You pouted, disappointed, confused by his sudden coldness. “I have some meetings to attend before your presentation. Do you mind if we meet there already?”

You hesitated in answering, trying to keep the disappointment on your face from turning into clear sadness. He finally looked up, noticing your silence. His eyes were empty, cold like they had never been before.

“Of course,” you finally replied after he raised an eyebrow, “I…I will just go over the presentation by myself.” You had to look away before your eyes started to water, which seemed to pull a reaction right out of you.

Benedict stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder, “you will do amazingly. You are smart and incredible. You don’t need me for this. I will be in the crowd cheering.”

You tried to look at him, thankful that it had just been a small weird moment of coldness, but he had already started to walk away towards the exit of the hotel, leaving you standing there.

…

Were this many people always supposed to be at the event? Had everyone just suddenly realised your topic was cool and decided to listen to you talk? Where was he? You were starting in mere minutes, and there were barely any seats left. Where was he?

You squeezed the flashcards in your hands, trying to stop the trembling in your hands. You peeked once again from the stage, searching for him between the rows of mostly middle-aged men.

“You are going up in three,” some random guy with an earpiece said as you nodded emphatically, shutting your eyes and trying to control your breathing.

You stayed there for a couple of seconds, controlling your breathing, reminding yourself that this was your research. That you could do this alone. That you didn’t need anybody else. You were about to open your eyes when a hand on your shoulder startled you. Blue. All you saw was blue for a second until you could focus on the rest of his face. He had changed. He was wearing your lucky colour.

“Everything will be fine,” Benedict nodded softly, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he seemed slightly out of breath.

“You are here,” you exhaled the words out.

“I am sorry, I-” he lowered his gaze in shame, but he was stopped by the earpiece guy announcing you were up. “You can do this. You are smart. Your research is incredible, and you are so incredibly charismatic that I wouldn’t be surprised if every professor in the room would try to steal you after this. Go show them how amazing you are. I am here.”

You nodded emphatically, instinctively pulling him into a hug and burying your face in his chest just for a second, feeling as he stiffened under your touch. You let go of him and nodded a little more, breathing in and out and walking onto the stage.

…

“Thank you, everyone, for listening,” you closed your presentation as the room broke into a myriad of applauses, a feeling of euphoria filling your chest as you turned to look to your professor, that stood still behind the curtain, giving you the most idolising smile you had ever seen.

You walked out of the stage with a gigantic smile straight towards your professor, whose hands immediately cupped your face, “that was incredible.”

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, immediately filled with all that tension that had been there the night before.

You were interrupted by a group of listeners approaching, and Benedict immediately moved away from you, looking down, realising the inappropriateness of his proximity. It felt as if this moment managed to rip you out of your trance, the bubble of excitement and happiness had popped, and once again doubts began to fill your mind. You were hurt, sad, and angry that Benedict hadn’t been there to support you through the hours leading up to your talk, hiding away from you rather than murmuring comforting words.

Whatever game he was playing, it was a game you found no pleasure in, growing antsy as you began to overthink what had happened in the past hours. From the second he had told you about the conference, Benedict had promised that he’d be with you on that very special day. He’d guide you like a mentor, like a friend, empty promises you were now clinging to. The ship had left the harbour, but the waves of anger had ripped it to the cold ground before the crew could swim to safety. Swimming had always been easy with Benedict near, but drowning had felt so much easier today.

…

The glass of champagne felt cold against your palm as you let your eyes wander. You were able to spot a few familiar faces in the crowd of scientists you were trapped in, celebrating your and their success. Benedict stood close to you, focused on the conversation he had been pulled into, unable to escape before the others had noticed him.

“An impressive talk, (y/n), I hope you’re proud of yourself.” One of the men you and Benedict had dined with yesterday evening was now standing in front of you. He was handsome, almost as tall as Benedict, but his eyes didn’t have that mesmerising blue colour you’d always recognise, his hair wasn’t brown like the coffee Benedict would bring you whenever you helped him grade essays, and his hands weren’t as big as the ones you wanted to feel on your body.

“Thank you! I am very happy about the crowd’s reaction to it.” A smile tugged on your lips as you took a sip, buying yourself some time. Fading seconds Benedict used to study you, the fake smile he instantly saw through, the slightly uncomfortable shifting of your weight from one leg to the other. He stepped closer, hand trying to come to rest on your waist, but you pulled away before he could touch you. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll get myself another drink.”

You felt his eyes burning through your back, standing on the spot you had been standing on seconds ago, jaw muscles clenched. With every step you took away from him, your heart picked up its pace, pounding in your ribcage, fuelled by your anxiety and anger. Why did he have to be so cold towards you this morning? Why did he have to chase the distance rather than finally closing the small gaps between you?

Slowly you made your way through the crowd, holding onto your refilled glass with an iron grip. You weren’t nearly as tipsy enough as you wanted to be, pouring down big gulps to try and get rid of the tension that held your system hostage. Piercing blue eyes found yours from afar, wordlessly guiding you closer, surrounded by men and women you haven’t met before.

“May I introduce you to my wonderful (y/n)?” Benedict’s voice had a strange undertone to it, pronouncing your name with a newfound possessiveness dripping from it. This time you didn’t get to pull away as his hand gripped your waist, pulling you into his side. Your thoughts were racing as fast as your heart, but you tried to smile at the people that now shook your free hand, eyes not wandering from your features. Benedict’s fingers kept boring into your skin, not giving you the slightest chance to even try and escape him.

Only as the people moved on, finding new conversations to get lost in, did you manage to free yourself. With your gaze set on your glass, you took a step away from him and another before his patience seemed to snap. His big hand came down on your wrist, the other took your glass from you to place it down on the nearest table before he started pulling you through the room.

“Where are we going?” He ignored your question, pulling you outside into the hallway.

“What is going on with you? You’re behaving like a child.” Benedict’s words cut right through you, forcing a scoff from you. For a second, you allowed yourself to study him. His eyes no longer reminded you of a cloudless blue sky, but rather an angry storm threatening to unleash its power, fuck, why was he still so very handsome.

“I’m the one behaving like a child? You left me hanging this morning, even though you promised not to leave me alone before the talk!” He clenched his jaw, eyes growing even darker as he took a step closer, towering over you.

“Is that how you speak to your supervisor? I’d be careful of my tone if I were you.” You barely recognised his voice, dark and husky, leaving your thighs clenching and your hands shaking. Even though you were angry at him, so fucking angry, you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to his lips, wanting to feel them pressed against yours.

“Are you threatening me? You know what, fuck you, Benedict!” The words left you before you could stop them from rolling off your tongue, trying to turn away from him with hurried steps. But you didn’t get far, pulled against his hard chest with one of his hands cupping your warm cheek and the other resting on your waist. For a few seconds, Benedict studied you with dilated pupils and heavy breaths spluttering from his thin lips. Seconds that passed by all too slowly, torturing you and your racing heart. Something seemed to give him the final push, lips meeting yours before you could speak another word.

Your mind didn’t get any time to focus on the situation, guided by your body, by the way your lips moved in sync with his. For years you had tried to imagine what kissing Benedict may feel like, but this was a new sensation, something raw, something full of emotion, something you were addicted to from the first second on. Your hands found his suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life as if you were scared he’d part from you way too soon.

His tongue moved along your lower lip, coaxing a moan from you. The kiss grew more heated with every passing second, relishing in one another’s touch, the beats of your racing hearts, the blood rushing through your veins, a beautiful mixture. Benedict slowly parted from you to catch his breath, staring down at you with a smirk, an expression that left your insides churning in anticipation. With his hand finding yours, he wordlessly pulled you down the hallway towards the elevator that would take you up to the floor of your room.

Was this it? Was this the moment you had thought of too many times to count? Was this the moment you had thought of as your wandering hands took care of the ache between your legs?

The second the doors of the elevator started to close, you were pulled in for another kiss, pressed against the mirror you didn’t dare look at. You could only guess that you looked like a mess, hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes wide – all because of the man that couldn’t stop touching you.

“I,” Benedict murmured against your lips, hands toying with the fabric of your lucky shirt, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry for being this cold towards you, I still struggle with what you make me feel, and with the power my position holds over you, I don’t ever want you to think that I’m using you. You need to know, if you want me to stop, you can always say so.”

His thumb ran along your swollen lips, unable to bite down his smile as you pressed a kiss to his digit. The elevator came to a halt, allowing the two of you to find your way to your hotel room, pushed inside by his big hand finding your lower back. Benedict didn’t let you get far, hands pulling you against his chest, eyes getting lost in yours.

“I need your spoken consent before I touch you.” His lips ghosted over yours, patiently waiting for you to speak up. It took you a few seconds to speak up, unable to concentrate on anything but his touch, the fire he had unleashed inside of you, a fire so daunting he wouldn’t ever be able to tame it.

“Touch me, please, professor.” The use of his title seemed to push Benedict over the edge, growling against your lips as you were guided towards the big bed. His lips found your throat, sucking on the spots that left your toes curling and your heart skipping needed beats. Skilled hands undid the buttons of your shirt, pushing the fabric off your shoulders to expose the lacy lingerie you were wearing. Benedict marveled at you, freezing the moment for seconds as his eyes took in the sight in front of him, wondering how and why he got so lucky.

You murmured his name, snapping him out of his trance, hands working on his shirt. The moment pushed your nerves over the edge, hands struggling to undo the small buttons, signing in relief as he pushed you away, tugging the shirt over his head. Benedict didn’t give you any time to take in his upper body, the muscles you wanted to run your hands across, the freckles and small spots you wanted to kiss, forced down onto the bed. Your professor towered over you, lower lip caught between his teeth as he watched you undo your bra, exposing your breasts to his wandering eyes.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you like this, at my mercy, ready to give me whatever I’m asking of you.” His raspy voice left you gasping, eyes rolling back as his hands undid your trousers, helping you out of them. By now, you were only wearing your soaked-through, lacy panties, a sight that could make the blind see again, Benedict was sure of it. A work of art, the finest creation his eyes would ever get to take in. He wanted to take his time with you, wanted to love on every inch of your skin, but his own desperation drove him closer to you, shuffling out of his trousers with hurried movements.

He crawled up your body, flipping the two of you around for you to settle in his lap, feeling his hard cock pressing against your core. Fuck, you were already done for, balancing along the line of your state of pleasure only he’d push you into. His hand found the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss, eyes fluttering close as his free hand found your chest, cupping your breast, tugging on your hard nipple. Moans clawed through you, all too shamelessly, all too freely, unable to hold back the sounds he elicited.

“I knew I'd never be able to hold back once I touched you, and I was scared of losing my control around you.” You knew he was talking about yesterday evening. You knew he was trying to smooth out the wrinkles on your heart he had crumpled like a piece of paper, and yet you couldn’t focus on them. You kissed him again, murmuring a soft “I need you, professor” against his lips.

His strong hands found your hips, grinding your core against his clothed cock, making your breaths get stuck in your lungs. The both of you were close to snapping, skipping the foreplay just to feel one another, and yet Benedict tried to hold back, not wanting to end your moment together this fast. Your legs quivered, the feeling he pushed through you with the grinding movements left your walls clenching around nothing, forcing a “More, please” out of you.

“Ask for it properly, you know how to be a good girl for me.” Benedict’s teasing words left you whining, eyes fluttering close as he stopped your movements, holding still to patiently wait for you to express your every need.

“Want your cock, fuck, need you inside of me.” A growl was forced out of Benedict, flipping you around once again, panties forced down your legs before your mind could even begin to catch up with his movements. With your body fully exposed to him, you were lying beneath him, staring up at him with lust-blown pupils and your teeth buried in your lower lip. His big hand found your core, brushing his fingers through your folds, moaning as he felt your wetness. You were dripping for him, body showing him how much you needed his touch, how desperate you were for him, for his fingers, for his cock.

His soft fingers circled your pulsing bundle of nerves, forcing your back to arch and your hands to fist the fabric of the blanket you were laying on. Benedict found himself obsessing over your sounds, hoping that he’d get to coax them out of you for endless nights to come, very well aware that he’d never be able to part from you and your bond again.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop.” He had pushed two fingers into your tightness, curling them against your swollen spot. Both of you knew that he was teasing you, fucking you all too slow, wanting to prolong the moment for as long as possible. Curses rolled off your tongue, forcing one of your hands to find his forearm, nails clawed into his skin, set on leaving marks he’d have to hide for the next few days.

“So desperate for me, so pretty, I knew you’d be perfect for me.” His praises left your skin growing warmer, eyes unable to meet his intense gaze. You felt your orgasm growing closer, wanting to let go, giving room to the intense sensation you were aching for. But just a second before you could give in with his name rolling off your tongue, Benedict let go of you.

Your eyes snapped open, staring at him with parted lips and furrowed eyebrows, a moment of confusion passed as you watched him reach for his wallet, pulling out a silvery foil packet. His eyes searched yours as he pulled his cock free, boxers left on the ground next to your panties; you couldn’t pay any attention to the fabric, eyes wandering down his naked frame, taking in the sight of his hard cock. His tip was flushed red, length twitching in his grasp, close to combusting.

“Are you sure about this? We can always stop.” Benedict was once again towering over you, not daring to move as he stared down at you. With one hand, you pulled him down to you, lips finding his as you murmured a soft “Fuck me”. Skilled fingers rolled the condom down his cock, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed into you. The both of you had to halt for a moment, eyes squeezed shut to take in the new feeling, adjusting to the tightness of your walls to the size of his cock.

“Move, please.” Your command was met with a groan, building a slow rhythm that took a few thrusts for you to get used to. The moans that tried to claw through you were held back by your pressed-together lips, not wanting to give your loud sounds enough room to reverberate through the thin four walls you were surrounded by, something Benedict easily picked up on.

“Don’t hold back, let me hear you, love.” The use of the nickname broke the dam, allowing your sounds to rumble through you. Your nails left marks down his back, scratching at his skin in a desperate try to hold onto him. His hips met yours with every thrust, forcing himself deeper into you, needing to etch this every moment into your mind. “You’re doing so well, my pretty girl.”

The second his tip met your swollen spot, you choked on your gasps, letting go of a high-pitched “Oh god”, very well knowing that you’d cum all too soon. Benedict’s smile began to widen as he picked up on your desperation, fingers finding their way back to your clit. You gripped his shoulders as your orgasm began to rock through you, filling your every pore, overtaking your whole body.

Benedict fucked you through your high, getting lost in your pleasure and drunken features, feeling his own high filling his body. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, holding still as his cum filled the condom.

…

The rest of the week was spent between conferences, lingering touches, and long nights of fucking. Benedict could barely keep his hands away from you when you were in public. His eyes were always searching for you when you weren’t by his side. His hands perpetually on your waist as the two of you made small talk with other academics. Sometimes you couldn't make it until the night, sneaking into an empty hallway, a bathroom, back to your room. He was addicted to you, and you could barely believe all your dreams had finally come true.

It was safe to say your grading sessions were never the same again. They mostly occurred in his house now, and they included dinner and a couple of fucking-breaks. They weren’t as efficient but significantly more fun.

#Benedict Cumberbatch smut #Benedict Cumberbatch imagine #professor fic #doctor strange #bbc sherlock #Benedict Cumberbatch x you

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dolliedarlin · 1 year

Text

THE PA | SIX ⏤BAKUSQUAD POLY

SUM. : its paradise finally finding and spending time with your soulmates, you want to treasure your precious time together for as long as possible

PAIR. : bakusquad poly x personal assistant reader

LENGTH : 5.6k

G. : fluff ; soulmate au ; poly au ; prohero au ; timeskip au ; time spent together is precious

WARNING : sexual tension ; kissing ; suggestive ; a fat slice of cuteness

A/N : i’m so sorry for the extended wait my loves, thank you all so much for waiting so patiently for this update. a lot of things happened this past year. There are many reasons but I don’t have the time to explain, all I can say is that I’m so so grateful for all of your patience and I hope to make up for it by writing every day now that it’s the holidays and I have the time to write something other than my thesis/dissertation.

PREV.

“Um…Bakugou-san?” you whisper hesitantly, resisting the urge to fidget about, considering the position you were currently in.

“Hmmm?” the blonde gruffly hums from behind you. Still too skittish to answer, Bakugou takes advantage of your silence to shift his attention away from paperwork and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and nuzzling his face into your neck, “What is it?” he whispers back after revelling in your alluring scent, beaconing him to keep you trapped for longer in his lap.

“I have a lot of work to do too,” you wail with a whine, face and neck overheating from his touch. The close contact and affectionate skinship is something you still have to get used to and you’ve begged all of your soulmates to give you time to get accustomed to it. They try their best to honour your wishes but also admit that they will always have their moments of weakness, even Bakugou. If it has anything to do with you, they will always have a weakness.

“Just a few more minutes,” Bakugou presses his words into the exposed column of your neck as he further buries his face into your skin. His large hands roam the rest of your body but one eventually finds its place clutching the curve of your waist as the other rests against your shapely thigh. You’re flustered to say the least but understand that it’s only natural for your soulmates to get this needy as you have a terrible habit of pulling away from their amorous advances, no matter how demure. It could be a simple brush of hands but you still panic from it. You feel horrible for being so timid but the others have assured you that they find your shyness to be very endearing.

You’re always holding up such a sophisticated and elegant appearance as his personal assistant; your eyes focused, your frame confident and your tongue polite and professional with a touch of dignified zest, befitting a woman of your occupation and standing. You have the job because you are capable, punctual, reliable and hard working - you do your assigned tasks exceptionally well. But to see you reduced to shy glances, an acquiescent frame and clement articulations has the proud hero on his knees and ready to service you in every which way. It’s what you deserve, after all, as his beautiful, beautiful soulmate.

Bakugou almost laughs at himself for being such a hypocrite; he’s always the first to berate his other soulmates for smothering you with affection and using you as a distraction from work. And yet…here he is, distracting you and himself during the work day. Defeated, Bakugou finally lets his head fall back and breathes out a chuckle indicative of his trounce.

“Alright, you can go…” smiling up at him in thanks, you move to get off his lap but are stopped by the slight squeeze of his hands, “but first, gimme those lips,” he doesn’t give you a moment to respond before he’s confining your lips to a passion-filled kiss. It wasn’t just one kiss he took from you, he took several, growing hungrier and hungrier after each one until he finally let you go with a proud grin. You hurry to the door and wish him well on his own workload, too embarrassed to meet his gaze as you close the door behind you.

If you had even an ounce of courage to catch a glance of him before exiting his office, you would’ve seen him licking his lips and wiping your smudged lipstick from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. A satisfied smirk contours the line of his lips as he examines the pretty colour on his thumb and kisses it with a hum of fulfilment.

You always taste so sweet…

He’s typically not a fan of sugar but the sugar on your lips is something he’ll always hunger for.

Making it out of Bakugou’s office, you immediately pull out your pocket mirror and check your appearance. Smudged lipstick. You click your tongue but smile and go about reapplying your favourite colour when you make it back to your desk. Your hair needs fixing too and new ruffles on your work dress needs flattening but it’s easily manageable. Looking around, you’re safe from any prying eyes and sigh in relief before continuing to go about finally doing your work.

You love your soulmates dearly and wish you could reciprocate their advances with just as much vigour but you care for their careers and public image too much; they’ve worked so hard to get this far, you can’t let them throw all that away just for you.

At least nobody but you, Bakguou and a small handful of upper management individuals and Proheros actually enter the top floor of the Dynamight Agency so you’re pretty safe from any prying eyes or loose gossip. As long as you maintain your clean and professional appearance in front of your colleagues, you and Bakugou will be free of any scandalous rumours.

Since uncovering your bond with the other five proheroes, you’ve since then successfully moved into their shared modern, luxury estate. It appears that there are gated clusters of high-end properties scattered strategically across Tokyo, where only the top Proheroes reside, so that, when called to emergencies, they are able to arrive at locations in their allocated radius at a reasonable time.

It’s early morning and you’re freshly out of the shower after having finished your morning exercise at the home gym, when you smell something delicious in the air.

You had already combed hair oils through your damp hair, did your skincare and pulled on your undergarments in the spacious bathroom; you were ready to return to your room so as to get dressed but your rumbling tummy couldn’t resist the enticing seduction of aromatic food in the air.

Tightly tucking your bath towel snug around your figure, you cautiously make your way to the downstairs kitchen, trying to figure out who would be in there so early in the morning. Usually, the only other person awake right now is Bakugou as he likes taking his morning run in the crisp cool air of daybreak. Other than him, you find it hard to place who could be cooking up breakfast so early in the morning.

It wouldn’t be long before you finally find out who the culprit is, however, and you couldn’t be happier to make the discovery as it came with a great view. Standing at the stove stood Kirishima, shirtless and with a simple apron on, his chequered pyjama bottoms loosely clinging onto his frame from the sharp lines of muscle carving out his brawny waist and hips.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Kirishima greets with his back still turned, shocking you but it’s to be expected. His trained senses must have traced your figure from the top of the stairs all the way to the kitchen door.

“How did you know it was me?” you ask, tilting your head and leaning against the door frame, amused by his jovial attitude. Just seeing him (or any one of your soulmates) makes you happy.

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders, “the sound of your footsteps are different to the others,” his answer made your brows raise in surprise. Was he really that acutely tuned into you and the others’ gaits?

“What are the differences?” you ask out of pure curiosity as you watch him step away from the stove and plate the delicious breakfast he cooked up for everyone.

“Yours are the softest and most steadily paced. Sero’s are almost silent and are the slowest but most consistently paced, Bakugou’s steps are relatively quick and stomp-y, like he’s always trying to get somewhere quickly,” both of you chuckle at his carefully used descriptor for your typically hot-headed soulmate. Kirishima is now reaching into the cupboards to lay out everyone’s favourite drinks with their favourite glasses or mugs, “Mina’s steps usually kinda follows a tune or rhythm and Denki tends to be the most ‘messy’ but fun,” he puts into air quotes as he approaches you and pulls you close by the waist. You place your hands around his neck as you tilt your head up to peer at him with questioning eyes, “his pace ranges from slow to fast and wide to short strides,” you both smile at each other and he leans in to press his forehead against yours, “now…it’s breakfast time~” he chimes and pulls back with a grin.

You giggle and nod, completely forgetting your state of dress, the morning fuzziness clouding your usually alert state, “right, thank you Ei~” you sing happily, stomach already craving for a bite of the filling breakfast laid out across the table.

“No; thank you~“ Kirishima matches your tune-filled voice but his statement brings a question to the tip of your tongue.

“What do you mea-? Ah!” you squeal when the red head playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

“You’re so cute, babe,” he whispers and kisses your skin, an apology for the reddening bite he marked into it.

“Ow! Stop it!” you laugh and try to push him away.

“No can do, I gotta bite you for being so cute and sexy,”

“What did I do?~” you whine. This makes Kirishima pull away with a raised brow, giving you an up and down look before prompting you to look down at yourself.

“Oh!” he hums in satisfaction from your flustered stance when you quickly realise how severely underdressed you are. Granted you have your underwear on but you were still in just your towel.

“I know you don’t mean to but,” Kirishima whistles softly, winking at you after he makes a show of looking you up and down again, “you look so…tempting right now,”

Feeling uncharacteristically courageous, you flirt with your eyes and smile innocently, “maybe that’s what I want to do…”

Not a second passes before you’re swept up into your soulmate’s muscular arms and placed to sit on the kitchen counter. Kirishima already has your lips in a heated dance with his own as his hands hold you close at the waist. Your own hands make their way into his soft hair, untamed by his usual gel. At some point, your towel comes off and Kirishima throws away his apron. Although it starts off heated, your passionate lip-lock tango with the red-head slows to prolonged kisses, as soft as moonlight and as relaxed as the lazy summer breeze. The main focus shifted in that same change of pace. Instead, the two of you focused on each other’s skin, enjoying the warmth and touch of the other. It felt nice to feel the skin of your thighs around his naked waist as well as feeling your exposed back with his rough hands. It made you sigh contentedly into his mouth as he smiled against your connected lips.

At last, the two of you part for air but stay pressed against one another with your foreheads touching and your eyes staring deeply into each other’s loving gaze.

“You’re so soft…” Kirishima compliments in a hush, so that only you could hear him - not that there was anybody else around to eavesdrop on you. It’s one of the main reasons why he loves touching you so much. He loves how your skin seems to always welcome his touch with a softness unique to you. His other soulmates have their own individual feel but yours is a delicate velvet that the roughed-up hero always appreciates - similar to Mina but still exclusive to you.

“And you’re all scarred up…” you return, eyes somehow frowning at him.

“I’m not a rough person,” as if to demonstrate he gives you another feather-soft kiss.

You giggle, still speaking in whispers, “I know…but it’s sexy,” he grins widely and pulls away to laugh aloud.

“You really need to stop that, babe, you always make it so hard for me to be gentle with you,” an embarrassing heat rises to your cheeks as you look away bashfully. He moves back, leaving you sitting atop the kitchen counter and returns shortly after to pull his giant shirt over your figure, swamping you in the fabric. Once dressed in his shirt, Kirishima brings you down from your perch and chuckles at your appearance. He loves seeing you in his clothes so much; it makes you look so much more lovable than you already are.

“I’m sorry,” you don’t really mean the apology from the cheeky smile on your face but Kirishima accepts it, he doesn’t really want you to stop either.

“Should we wake the others-?”

RING! RING! RING!

A blaring alarm cuts through the once calm atmosphere and prompts Kirishima to check the hero device he and the rest of your prohero soulmates always keep on their person.

“What is it, Kiri?” you ask, worry in your eyes as the red-head quickly goes about getting dressed into his hero suit.

“There’s an emergency nearby so I’m heading out,” fully-dressed, Kirishima grabs a quick bite of breakfast before heading to the front door with you following close behind, “don’t worry, beautiful,” he reassures you with a smile after putting on his shoes.

“I know you’re strong but please be careful,” he thanks you for your concern and pulls you into a final kiss before he’s rushing off.

“I’ll be home soon!” He calls back as you wave him goodbye from the open doorway, attempting a brave smile with concern swimming in your hollowed-out chest. Within the house, there’s a flurry of movement as the others abruptly rise from their sleep and rush to put on their own hero suits - they probably rose to the alarm too. Even though more of them were soon going to be joining Kirishima, you felt more assured then when you saw him rushing off to the scene alone. If they work together then they’ll be able to stay safe.

You know they’ll get home safely.

A rustling from the shrubbery nearby catches your attention and you freeze in place. This is a gated private community, the likelihood that someone could sneak in would be very low on the scale. Approaching the uniform, decorative flora in your outdoor slippers and Kiri’s shirt, you peak over and spot nothing. Relief washes over your head. The paranoia over potentially getting caught by paparazzi and aggressive media personnel was slowly getting to you and it’s anxiety inducing; you can’t even happily spend time with your newly discovered soulmates.

You shake any remaining negative emotions out of your frame and re-enter the house, ready to wish the rest of your soulmates goodbye as they ready themselves to join Kirishima for a villain attack.

It’s a surprise how you could have ever survived so long without having Mina as your selfcare partner. You already took good care of your skin and hair before but, with Mina, the routine became so much more fun and entertaining, especially when she was able to rope in the others to join you. She could be very convincing.

Denki was the one who actively sought you two out to do some selfcare together; Kiri and Sero were up for doing anything with you two, trusting in your knowledge of the topic and love of them to be well taken care of. But it was Bakugou who put up some resistance. He always eventually succumbed to your demands, however, grumbling here and there under his breath but you could see that he enjoyed being pampered, especially when it was by you and Mina. You two are their favourite girls after all. Soon enough, you’re sure he will be the one to seek you two out for the weekly routine pampering session, he was a man all about routine, after all.

One of the main things you liked to look forward to about this whole routine was the shopping aspect. It was always fun to pile skin care and self care products up in your individual baskets, hoping to share your findings with one another when you met up at the check-out counter.

This time, Mina had been very excited to shop together with you all in search of a new clay mask she had been anticipating the release of from one of her favourite skincare brands. The two of you planned an entire night based around that clay mask and Mina made sure she was off patrol duty so that she could experience it with you. Sero was kind enough to take on her shift so that you two could spend quality time together, to which you both rewarded him with plenty of kisses and cuddles.

“If either of you want another pamper night but it falls on Mina’s shift, always tell me first and I’ll happily switch shifts,” Sero voiced out, his face littered with lipstick kisses and a dopey smile stretched out across his lips.

One problem was that the search for that particular clay mask took longer than expected. It appeared as though everyone had been out to purchase it too so splitting up to cover more ground in the store was definitely a good idea. The two of you managed to meet up at the spot the clay mask was being sold and swiped up two tubs of it with an enthusiastic cheer.

“Let’s hurry and pay so we can start our selfcare date night early today,” Mina whispered in happiness beside you as you nodded along. You displayed a smile despite the ominous feeling you felt following you about the store. It was your paranoia acting up again; you hate to say it but you easily complied with it by keeping a modest distance from the pinkette who had been trying to link arms with you on the way to the cash register, “what’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“Oh nothing…” you hesitated but let her have her way in standing close to you. It’s just your paranoia, you don’t want it taking over fully and tarnishing your relationship even though it came from a good place.

Night soon fell and after seeing off Sero, you and Mina moved to her room, where she played her self care playlist through her portable speaker, laid out some yummy snacks to share along with all the self care necessities the two of you would soon be spoiling yourselves in. The first order of business was a shower. You took it together and helped each other with your hair, giggling at the bubbles the shampoo made, talked through your favourite body scrub, helped give one another shoulder massages when helping to lather up the body wash and squealed in unison from the final burst of ice-cold water to tighten up your hair follicles.

“That took longer than expected,” you laughed, catching sight of the clock on the wall. It had been about an hour or so since you and Mina entered the shower together.

“Yeah but it was worth it, that was such a fun but relaxing shower,” Mina sighs in content as she stretches out in her bathrobe on the bed. The shoulder massage you gave her did magic to her usually tense back muscles, she’ll be sure to brag about this to her other soulmates in the hopes that she’ll be able to playfully induce some jealousy whilst simultaneously praising more of your hidden skills and talents.

“Yeah~” you reciprocate her sigh of content, “as much as I love the boys, I love our girl time too,” the two of you hummed in agreement and stayed sprawled out on the bed with a towel under your wet hair for several more minutes before eventually agreeing to continue your self care session.

While your hair was still wet, you treated your scalp and hair-ends with hair oils, using a scalp massager on each other when doing so. After that came the much anticipated clay mask.

“We have to be careful with clay masks,” Mina warns as she applies the mask onto your face as you close your eyes, she was using the small spatula provided and secretly admired the sweet features of your face while doing so. This was a good idea. The pinkette loves seeing you relaxed and happy rather than stressed and serious, though a pair of furrowed brows, a firm gaze and your elegant silhouette did have a big, flustering effect on her.

“Why is that?”

“We can’t move our faces once it begins to dry because then it’ll crack,”

“Oh yeah…” she giggles at your realisation, how could you have forgotten that? Nevertheless, it was eventually your turn to apply the mask on her.

“Mmmm~ you have a really gentle touch, (Y/N),” Mina praises, her voice lazy from the peacefulness and happy from your company. You wanted to reply but your mask was already setting in and you didn’t want to ruin Mina’s work in applying an even coat for you so you settled with humming in return.

When Mina’s mask was done, the two of you resorted to communicating through writing. You both danced to songs with straight faces and helped give each other cute pedicures while waiting for the timer you set up. It was really hard to keep from laughing when you danced to songs, staring at each other with straight faces. You were doing a pretty good job until Mina turned to the side, faced you and started to twerk with the most deadpan face you had ever seen on her.

Naturally, you had a laughing fit, cracking up your dried mask and soon had the pinkette cracking up her mask too when your laughter became too contagious.

“Oh my god! Your face! Your Face!” you wheezed.

“No! Look at your face! HAHAHAHA!” the two of you laughed your butts off until you heard the boys walk into the house from downstairs. You wanted to go and greet them but Mina shook her head and pulled you close, “you wanna do something fun?”

How could you say no?

Now you’re waiting at either side of the door and waiting for one of your four potential victims to pass through and scare the living daylights out of. You were hoping it would be Denki first but from the heavy footsteps and light cordial whistling, you could tell that it was going to be Kirishima…

And, soon enough, the red-head walked into view as you and Mina shared a mischievous look, anticipating his surprise. Just as the red-head was a step or two away, you both jumped out and pulled funny faces to accompany your cracked up face masks.

“Woah!” Kirishima jumped and clutched at his heart but laughed it off like the good sport he is, “You two really scared me there! Haha! Looking cute~” he gives you both a kiss and walks off but not before giving you both a light slap on the butt, “Good luck with the other three~”

Denki was the one that came next and he had the most exaggerated expression; screaming like a little girl. It sets you and Mina off into hysterics as you high-five with the pride of achieving such a funny response. Of course, the blonde didn’t like this or, at least, pretended like he didn’t because his revenge only came in the form of tickles. He too wished you and Mina good luck with the others.

“Next time you two decide to do masks, don’t forget to invite me to join in too!” The electric hero pouts cutely while you and Mina give him kisses of apology before promising to include him in your next face mask session.

Sero didn’t get scared like you hoped. Instead, he grins toothily at you both and leans down to meet your eyes since he’s so tall and gives you both a soft kiss on the lips.

“Nice try cuties,” he chuckles at your adorable pouty faces, having to hold himself back from cooing at you, “if only Denki didn’t come before me and squeal like a little girl,” the three of you laughed loudly before shushing up in anticipation for the final victim as Sero walks off as well.

When the time finally came, Bakugou flinched and Mina didn't miss the opportunity to tease him for it. Naturally, the spiky blonde’s hot-headedness makes him angry and he scoops you and Mina up in both arms before stomping off into the bathroom.

“Wash that stupid mask off already! It’ll dry out your skin!”

So he has been listening to your ramblings about self-care…

Sero has developed the most romantic pastime and, at your shy request, he also takes the time to teach you what he’s been able to learn on his own.

Sat in between his long, outstretched legs, Sero guides you through a melodic arrangement of chords on his acoustic guitar. He is patient and his large hands guide your unpracticed fingers through the movement with a kind warmth. In his dark eyes, there is a soft tenderness reserved only for you in appreciation for your interest in his hobby and the genuine effort you put into doing your best.

It’s already been a few weeks and you’re already a handful of sessions in with him. The start was rough and full of giggles but now you were already able to successfully play a sweet little tune with minimal help from the tape-hero.

Time spent together like this always sets such a comfortable atmosphere that will only be remembered with fondness, at least, it does for Sero. For you, a perfectionist at heart, remain unsatisfied with your nominal progress.

“It’s okay, pretty, no need to push yourself. You have the prettiest little hands so don’t stress too much over being unable to reach the tough chords right away, you’ll adapt over time,” in an attempt to comfort you, he presses a languid kiss to your temple from behind.

“My hands aren’t small!” you stretch out your hands and wiggle your fingers in a feeble attempt to demonstrate your statement.

“Well…” Sero stretches out his own hands to compare his against yours and smirks at the defeated groan you give.

“Your hands aren’t a fair comparison because yours are just abnormally big!”

“And yours are abnormally small…” he teases and tightly wraps his arms around you in order to tame your small tantrum of protest. You’re too cute sometimes, “It’s not a bad thing, Bonita,”

“You make it sound like a bad thing…”

“These pretty hands have done a lot of things. Amazing, incredibly things and now they’re attempting to learn a passion of mine, something they aren’t obligated to do, which, in my opinion…” he holds your hands in his and brings them to his lips, whispering into the skin covering your knuckles, “makes it the most amazing thing they’ve ever done thus far,”

In the silence, Sero presses another kiss against your temple and realises the sudden new heat of your skin. It’s a clear indication of your newly flustered state and makes the signature toothy grin splay out over his lips; you really are the cutest.

“You’re too much sometimes, Hanta,”

“Listen…” he whispers into the skin of your shoulder after already having pulled down your shirt collar for better access, “if you want, you can have free access to my guitar whenever you’re free,” he promises, “even if I’m not around, you can practise as much as you want. You have my express permission,” he kisses your shoulder once more, “surprise me, Bonita,”

Every chance you were able to practise without Sero, you took the opportunity with determination underpinned by your deep desire to surprise him with your solitary progress.

A week or two passes and you’re finally able to repeat the tune that Sero often strums effortlessly on the guitar and you rush to demonstrate your success to him as he is relaxing in a hammock within the garden between two trees.

“Sero! Sero! Look at what I can do!” You call out, giddy with excitement and his guitar in your arms. Stopping before his hammock, you wait for him to sit up with a lazy smile and focus his full attention onto you. You then begin to play with a look of full concentration on your face and triumphantly serenade him with the same romantic tune he’s been subtly serenading you with during each of your guitar sessions.

Once you strum the last tune, he showers you in applause and whistles in glee at your achievement.

“That was amazing! You did so well, come here, Bonita,” he opens his arms for you whilst still in the hammock. With a squeal of happiness, you join him and cuddle up in his arms, the guitar leaning against one of the trees you were nestled between, “I’m so proud of you,” he praises as you kick your legs in happiness, “you’re so cute when you get all giddy like this,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and his voice lowers dangerously, “it makes me want to do unspeakable things to you” he laughs as you squeal from the shock and embarrassment his confession brings you, “but, I did make a promise and I’m following strict instructions from Katsuki to be gentle with you. For now, it’s going to have to wait - until then…” Sero lifts your chin up to look deeply into your beautiful eyes and playfully pouts at you, “try to stop being so unintentionally seductive,” he tucks your face into his collar as holds you in an affectionate embrace. A calm wind rocks your cuddled up figures within the hammock and your heart beats in momentary happiness.

You don’t want to admit it but you feel the ominous feeling of being watched once again and quickly make an excuse to return to the house. The excuse you come up with has you mentioning something about remembering the forecast for rain later so Sero gets up soon after you and puts his hammock away whilst taking a mental note of your unusual behaviour to potentially discuss with the others later on.

“How is this possible?!” Denki gapes in astonishment from beside you, his hands clutching at his hair as you smile triumphantly. The blonde has taken you out to his favourite arcade, a secluded treasure tucked away in a quiet alley within the city. He’s a regular who manages to fail at winning any plushies at all the claw machines and yet, here you were winning him a pikachu plushie on your first try.

“Here you go, Denki,” you chirp happily, handing over the Pikachu toy. It suits him so well, he deserves to have it and you’re happy to have made the effort to win it for him.

“How did you do that?” The electric hero almost begs on his knees for some sort of guidance. There’s no way you could have defeated the undefeatable claw machine without having some sort of secret technique or past experiences. He always loses all his tokens trying to win plushies and you make it look so easy. He wants to get you a cute plushie too!

“Haha! I don’t know,” you shrug with a bright smile, “I just know that I wanted to give you that Pikachu toy,” at your answer, Denki forgets all about his jealousy and allows his awe of you to skyrocket. You’re so cute. So very cute!

“Eeep!” you squealed from being swept up in his arms. With your hands on his shoulders, you look down at him as he adoringly stares up at you. There are countless butterflies in your stomach that you try to suppress but it’s no use when you catch sight of his devoted, lovestruck expression.

“You’re too good for me,”

Seeing as the arcade was mostly deserted, you dared to lean down and press a kiss against his awaiting, pink lips, “I could say the same about you,” Denki grins widely at your comment and locks your lips into another kiss.

You offer to win him another plushie but he insists on winning you one himself so as to even the odds. Unfortunately, despite his determination, he ends up losing all his tokens and you were left comforting him on his loses. He was really cute about it though. There was a fire in his eyes that sealed his determination into a pointed focus aimed solely at the claw and the buttons of the machine. It was admirable and his actions alone were worth all the plushies on display put together and more.

“Thank you Denki,”

“For what?” your soulmate deflates and melts into his seat, strawberry slushie cradled in his hands for comfort, “I didn’t win you a plushie even though I used up all of my tokens,”

“You put up a good fight and that was what mattered,” you pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, prompting a bright blush to flourish over his expression.

“I still want to win you a plushie though…” he mumbles under his breath, pouting like a defeated and grumpy child, making him even cuter in your eyes.

“Maybe next time…”

The sinister feeling prodding your senses around every public interaction with your soulmates is just your paranoia. For the most part, you’ve been as careful as possible to keep the intimate interactions private. You need to keep your soulmate's reputation and public image in mind, afterall. They take such good care of you that you should do the same but in your own way. Having multiple soulmates is incredibly taboo and you don’t want to ruin your new found happiness. All you want is to treasure this bliss forever.

NEXT ; BNHA MLIST

TAGLIST :

@hangesidekick ; @emotionalfangirl2002 ; @kookie02 ; @lordbugs ; @answer-the-sirens ; @toobsessedsstuff ; @moonbinnie0983 ; @kinba-ri ; @beaniebanby ; @themoonandlover ; @ravensfeatheruniverse ; @barbra-annbunny ; @Modmochi ; @maybeisthemoon ; @a-book-lover-things ; @thathoneybee3 ; @lostinbooksblog ; @moonlightaangel ; @cocoa-bitter ; @mysteriousparker ; @mha-baku-todo-deku-kiri ; @dangerousluv1 ; @pansexualproblemchild ; @peacchfuz ; @skywalkerstyles ; @chwlogy ; @acuario2 ; @juliannaelee ; @levimeko ; @neutralchaosintheworld ; @saccharisa ; @no1herothatlookslikeavillain

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ottiliere · 6 months

Note

hello! ur posts on the vagus nerve and its connections to digestions have encouraged me to do a lil mini dissertation thingy kinda focused on it/around it, ur big thread on PVT and everything really piqued my interest when i read it and i just held onto it for like a year or smthing until like last week when i started the project. Ik u said recently in one of ur posts i believe that ur not going to post the big dirk PVT post and im not here to be like yo post it because i also think u said that ur kinda moving away from like hs/dirky stuff rn ?? (im forgetting if i saw that sorry) but yeah i just wanted to say thank u etc etc, like ive never done an ask before so sorry if this is phrased weirdly but ur blog is just like one of those blogs that fundamentally changed how i view certain things in life for the better lol, like whether its ur beautiful representations / depictions of mental health in like just beautifully painted art (seriously the way u make it look like idk how to word it cartoony/really 2d but then it stands out against the background + if u zoom in and see the tiny pixel details == it makes me mad) or just like the huggeee long form posts that i like to chew on and save cuz theres so many details that AFFAAT like the way you talk abt the topics u portray has made me concious of how i would want to do so in the same way ig u get me. anyway this got really long and idk if i come across coherently, but ur just a random person on the internet whos art and written thoughts that u decide to share makes me happy when i see it == makes me pace around my room and distract me from this fat essay lmao so tldr: i really appreciate what u do + i hope like that ur doing well and that u keep arting and thoughting no matter what it is that u choose to focus on

(uve made me comitted to reading jthm, playing psychonauts and giving jjba w/ dio another go lmao) 🫶🫶

Hello! I’m sorry this reply is coming so late, this ask in particular is very sweet and has stuck out to me.

I’m really happy to have introduced you to PVT, this is something I’ve heard from a few different people on here and it’s very sweet… I did my thesis on it in college and the time really flew by while working on it, things you don't think could possibly attributed to "nerve issues" being nerve issues is always an eye-opener, isn't it? being able to research things that interest you & access information in general really is a privilege in this day and age.

“The topics [I] portray” are very important to me, so it’s heartening when others take interest in spite of the obvious deterrents. A lot of what I love making art about is unpalatable to most, and while I do understand the reasons for that on principle, it can make things feel a little insular. I genuinely believe there’s a lot of value in depicting tableaus of misery.

The last year has brought a lot of very unforeseen changes, and my life is quite different from when I initially made this blog to post about him! That’s also part of why I’ve been so sparse here…though I’m working to change that quite soon. I love sharing my work, and I’ve had the privilege of meeting some truly wonderful people through this website. That said…with where I’m at now, I’m not sure I’ll be posting the Dirk essay anytime soon, I’m afraid.

I’ve undertaken a few ongoing projects, one of which in particular is an original project I plan on sharing publicly here hopefully within the next month or so. I hope it’s something you & anyone else who’s stuck around with me here will enjoy, but failing that, I’ve really enjoyed working on it thus far.

Thank you for the sweet ask, take care, and good luck with your project!

#ask #I'm not afraid to admit that my fondness for dio is entirely contingent on things I made up about him in my head over the years.#there's a draft here filled with thousands of words about him that I started writing up in response to some ask I got earlier this year #but I never finished it... :( and I also never posted the dozens and dozens of pictures I frenetically drew of him either. maybe someday #on another note: I did my yearly reread of johnny the other month. I'll do something big with him one day but this year is not the year #similarly sasha answers in the queue. I'm glad you enjoyed psychonauts it's one of the greatest games ever visually and re: gameplay. etc #lucy art

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lonelycowgirls · 1 year

Note

Is your yachtie Harry fic coming soon??

Soooo, I'm still balls deep in my masters dissertation *sigh* but here's a lil sneaky peak!

Staying Afloat

aka Yachtie!Harry

I sighed and looked out of the window. I tried to imagine who I would be working with and hoped that they were ready to put in some hard work, because I wanted to make good money this season. I heard the low timbre of male voices approaching again and turned to see the two of them coming down the winding stairs, still chatting and catching up.

"Ah, there she is! Harry, this is Scarlett- oh sorry, I mean Lettie. Our chief stewardess for the season." I smiled at the men and stepped to extend my hand for the long-haired one to shake.

"Great to meet you, Scarlett. I'm the chief officer." He said, smiling around a deep British accent. As he took my palm in his, I noticed how rough his hands were, the classic sign of a deckie.

"You too, Harry. You're quite young for a chief officer, eh?" He shrugged and smirked.

"Maybe I'm not as young as you think."

"Harry's been my first mate for three years now, we were on another boat though. I trust you guys will work well together to figure out everything on Andiamo." I nodded dutifully and hoped that Harry wouldn't be what I suspected he'd be from first impressions. But I suppose time would tell.

We walked further into the interior and on down to the crew mess. The captain led the way through to explain where the crew quarters were. I was surprised by how big the space for the crew was, my previous boat had had tiny living quarters - we were practically living on top of each other for twelve weeks. Most of us didn't mind that though...

"So, Lettie you'll have two stews under you, a girl and a guy, if I remember correctly." I nodded. "And you've actually got the same under you, H."

"Nothing new there then," Harry smirked at the captain, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"I don't wanna know, man." Captain Bobby put his hands up in surrender and wandered back through the narrow hallway to the mess. Harry glanced back at me and I raised my brows with a slight smirk before moving past him to check where the uniforms had been stored.

Just as I started sifting through the laundry room and placing uniforms into piles for everyone, I heard the captain yelling again above. The crew mess was normally very soundproof, due to all the debauchery that usually took place there - he was really that loud. I guessed that more crew were arriving.

"Hey, Harry what size t-shirt are you?" I called out to him.

"Depends, is it Fruit of the Loom?"

"Um, no. They're unbranded." I looked at the label on the neck of the bright coral-coloured shirt in my hand. I walked out to the mess to see him sprawled out on the bench seat of the crew mess, munching on an apple. He'd put his shoulder-length hair into a bun that didn't look much different to my own. "They're soft though. This one's a large? What do you think?" He jumped up from where he sat in the mess and bared his chest, holding the apple in his teeth. I scoffed a laugh and held up the shirt to his chest, he nodded with a smirk, his dimples poking through each side of the apple.

"This'll do, Scar." He took the shirt from me and put it over his shoulder as he took another bite of his apple, moving past me to go into his room.

~~~

I know this really isn't much, but it's all I can give away right now.

Open to thoughts and feedback, as always!

Nel xo

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #below deck #yachtie!harry

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randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Yellow Curtains - Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Two - The Cabin

Ponedeljek 7:30 (Monday 7:30 am)

"Who can dissertate on the Sokovian Revolution of '74?"

The history teacher's question echoed in the classroom, but all he got in response were crestfallen students and soft giggles. T'Challa sighed, a small smile on his lips. "Come on guys, pay attention." He asked, nodding to the digital board where some information from the day's subject matter read. "We discussed last class how the labor revolution allowed Sokovia to become a first-world country in less than fifty years and about how that..."

Wanda's attention fell on the outside, birds flying in the sky above the main courtyard. She watched a few students walk by, and monitors asking what they were doing outside the room, before trying to force her attention back to the matter.

The minutes dragged on as Professor T'Challa explained about Sokovian independence. Wanda didn't usually have trouble with humanities subjects, but lately, she had been so distracted.

Suddenly, the professor's talk was interrupted by the arrival of Vice Principal Harkness at the door. And she was not alone.

"Hi, T'Challa, good morning. We have a new student; She is late but is my fault, we had a problem with the paperwork. Is it okay if she watches the class?" Asked the woman - practically pushing the new student inside.

The teacher agreed, of course, smiling gently, and the whole room looked at the student.

Wanda held her breath, those eyes were so familiar...

"Shit, it's her!" Natasha whispered beside her with some indignation, and Wanda blinked away the new student to her best friend.

"Sorry, what?" the girl asks confused. Natasha nods to the new student's chair.

"It's the girl Carol brought to Tony's party." Nat explains in a low tone so the teacher won't hear. "Shit, I can't believe she's going to study right in our class. I am so unlucky."

T'Challa called for silence from the excited students, and Wanda tried to pay attention to the subject, not understanding why it bothered her that a stranger might be taken.

She was curious about the new student, but everyone else was. And when the class was over, and the table was filled with several other students greeting them and asking where they were from, Wanda gave up trying to find out too.

Natasha seemed willing to run away and practically dragged Wanda out into the courtyard.

They sat down at one of the outside tables, and it wasn't long before Pietro and Clint joined them.

"Maximoff, you have something of mine." Barton declared as soon as he sat down, and Wanda sighed in defeat.

"I don't." She retorted. "I probably lost it at the party."

"What? Damn it, Wanda, it was three hundred euros!"

"I know, sorry." She asks immediately. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Well..."

"Dude!" Pietro interrupts with an angry grimace, giving his friend a hard shove. "It's my sister!" He recalls, but Clint laughs, raising his hands as a sign of peace.

"I'm joking, relax!" He assures between laughs. He then slips an arm around Wanda's shoulders, hugging her for a moment. "You don't worry either. It was because of the police at Tony's apartment, right? You were quick to think of getting out of there, he would have gotten in trouble."

Wanda forces a smile. "Yeah, but now I owe you 300 euros."

Clint shrugs. "Pay me back when you can." He says pushing her shoulder against his lightly. "You can do my homework too."

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing weakly. "I'll think about it."

They fall into casual conversation after that. Clint comments about the party, and the boys on the team, and Pietro talk about his date with Crystal going well. Natasha is distracted, her gaze keeps going to the other side of the yard, and Wanda sighs slightly when she realizes who her friend is staring at.

"Have you talked to Carol yet?" The younger Maximoff asks, receiving a deep sigh in return.

"Not really, but I don't need to right?" Nat retorts looking at Wanda. " She clearly moved on."

Wanda frowns slightly, looking at the small group. The new student seems close to Carol, and they're all laughing, but she's not as sure about it as Natasha is.

"I don't know, Nat, maybe they're just friends." She tries, and Natasha gives a sad laugh.

"Whatever, Wands. It's not like we have anything official."

"I think you should talk to her." Wanda insists, and Pietro and Clint join the conversation as well.

"Me too." Barton says. "Make things clear."

"I don't think so." Pietro comments shrugging. "Avoid her, make her anxious. She'll get the message."

Wanda rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to him."

Nat laughs lightly, and when he sees Tony's group entering the courtyard he lets out an exclamation. "Shit, speaking of crushes, I'll be right back." And walks off towards Tony Stark the next moment.

Wanda feels her blood run cold. From her friend's excitement and the giggles of the boys and glances Tony steals in her direction, she knows exactly what they are talking about.

Natasha runs back to them with a proud smile on her lips.

"Great news, Maximoff." She declares. "Tony told me he's taking his brother for the cabin on the holiday, so we'll all be together and you'll get a chance to get to know him better."

The boys make teasing sounds, and Wanda can only force a laugh.

When the bell rings, announcing the next class, and her gaze meets the new student's on the other side, she wants to believe she is imagining the way her heart speeds up.

The Independence holiday means four days off, and since eighth grade, Wanda's friends organize some trips, mainly to Stark’s winter cabin, even though it's not really cold.

The weeks go by quickly - which is great. Wanda's attention span at school doesn't improve, and she grows irritated at her brain's insistence on stealing glances at the new student, with whom she shares a single history class a week.

She learns a few things about the new student. Their first name, the taste for rock bands that she notices due to the black T-shirts, the skateboarding skills from the item they use to leave school. She learns that they are from New York and that they are not Carol's partner.

It is Natasha who is investigating, of course. And Wanda was in the middle of reading an article when her best friend addresses the whole thing.

"You won't believe it, Maximoff! I'm so stupid!"

Wanda frowns. "What? What are you-"

"Y/N is not Carol's girlfriend! They are sisters!" She declares, holding out her cell phone at the brunette's eye level. "She just posted this."

It is open on Instagram, a photo of Carol with the new student riding her skateboard in the city park. In the caption 'I missed you, little sister! Glad you're here now!" Wanda feels a wave of relief fill her body and doesn't know why.

Natasha exclaims excitedly, "You know what that means, right?"

"Žal ne (No, sorry)." Wanda mutters uncertainly, but Nat chuckles.

"Silly girl, it means I'm back in the game!" Declares the redhead. "I'll like her last few stories and put her back in the best friends. She'll get the message."

"Or you could just talk to her..."

Nat laughs through her nose. "You're funny, Wanda." Says the girl, turning her attention back to her cell phone.

Wanda doesn't want to think too much about the whole matter. She doesn't really know you, and it seems ridiculous that you don't leave her thoughts. She is sure that it is Nat's fault and her momentary obsession with Carol.

When the Independence holiday arrives, and she finds herself in a crowded car heading for Tony Stark's cabin, her anxiety returns. She remembers that there, it would be Vision, and that everyone expected her to leave the cabin with a new boyfriend. Would it be too late to give up the trip?

"I'll take the window bed!" Clint and Pietro got into a pushing fight over the largest room as soon as they arrived. Wanda just wanted to sit down, because Tony's group was finishing checking out the entrance to the cabin's compound - Rich people's stuff - and they were all stealing glances at her.

By the time Carol's car arrived, Wanda was dressed more comfortably and smelled of soap. She had taken advantage of the fight for rooms to use the shower before everyone else, and although she only got one bunk, she was satisfied with the impossibility of sleeping with someone else next to her. It read Vision.

"I swear to god this girl is trying to kill me." Natasha gasps low from the balcony next to Wanda, watching Carol get out of the car in short shorts and a button-down shirt practically all open, showing off a sports top underneath. Wanda laughs at her friend's reaction, but when you get down from the back of the truck, she shallows dry.

You are busy pulling a motorcycle out of the back, and Wanda's brain clicks.

She recognizes the vehicle, and the helmet, and her heart speed up so much that it's the only thing she hears in her ears for a moment.

"Her sister's hot too, huh?" Natasha comments half-impressed, and Wanda immediately looks away.

"I don't know, I don't like girls." She retorts, surprising Nat with her aggressiveness. The redhead gives a confused laugh.

"Okay? But you can tell a girl is pretty without being attracted to her." The redhead says, but Wanda clears her throat and hugs her own body.

"Sure, whatever." She murmurs. "I'm gonna take a nap, I'm tired from the trip." She says, practically running inside.

She doesn't notice your gaze searching for her.

–//–

Petek, 20:40 (Friday, 8:40am)

Wanda awoke in a very quiet cabin.

She wasn't surprised that everyone went to bed early, after all the trip had been equally tiring for everyone, yet it bothered her a little to be the first to wake up.

She left her bunk as quietly as she could, watching her brother in the bottom bed snore lightly as he slept on his stomach.

After going to the bathroom, she was disappointed to find a completely empty kitchen and thought about waking Nat or Tony for a company to the market when she heard footsteps in the living room.

You opened the door making some noise, because the key got stuck in the doorknob.

"Shit." You muttered to yourself, struggling a bit to unhook the item. Wanda stepped into the kitchen doorway, hands in front of her body, and you jumped slightly when she wished you good morning half uncertainly. But your surprise gave way to a smile the next second. "Zdravo! (Hello) Sorry about the noise!"

Wanda shook her head, smiling as well. "Don't worry, you're Y/N, right? Carol's sister."

You raise an eyebrow at her, a charming smile playing on your lips. Wanda hates it. Hates how gorgeous you look right now, the twist in her stomach. She swallows dryly, and you lean on the door.

"She mentioned me, huh?" you ask. "Or maybe you asked."

Wanda's cheeks flush, and she grimaces to disguise it. "She mentioned it." She assures you with a half-trembling voice, which seems to amuse you. "Anyway, do you know where I can find food in this place? I'm starving."

You chuckle lightly, tossing the door key on the small table next to you and reaching out to grab your wallet from there and another set of keys from the support, which has a keychain that Wanda recognizes as belonging to Carol.

"Of course, princess, we'll find food for you." You say, and Wanda knows she is blushing at the nickname, but follows you anyway, just like the first night. And outside, walking side by side toward Carol's truck, you extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N Danvers, by the way. We haven't officially introduced ourselves."

Wanda shakes your hand. "I'm-"

"Wanda Maximoff." You complete with a small smile, still holding her hand. "And I asked about it."

Wanda pulls her hand away before you realize that she is shaking.

You get in the car first, whistling lightly as you start the truck. Wanda tries to play it cool, keeping her arms crossed the whole way to the market. It's not far, but it seems like every minute drags.

"Did you get home safely after that day?" Your sudden question surprises her a little. Wanda frowns until she remembers what you are talking about.

"Hmm, yeah." She answers. "Someone else gave me a ride home." She says with a small smile.

You don't take your eyes off the road. "You lied to me, Maximoff." You comment then, to which Wanda looks at you with confusion. A small smile plays on her lips. "You are not part of the Avengers. You snuck into an event of ours, I could have ended up in trouble..."

"Hey, you're the one who practically kidnapped me from Tony's party!" Wanda defends herself. "And you asked if I was his friend, which I am, not if I was part of his group of protesters!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Relax, I'm just messing with you." You comment, but Wanda can only give a nervous laugh because you give her thigh a gentle squeeze and she forgets how to breathe. The touch fades away at the same speed as it happened, your hands returning to the steering wheel, but Wanda's skin is still prickling. "I asked Carol about the mystery girl and she told me you weren't part of the group, but you were trustworthy and welcome in everything. So relax."

Wanda smiles half proudly, glad that Carol trusts her so much even though they are not so close. You cross a green light, and at the next turn, you find the supermarket parking lot.

Whatever this conversation means, it completely improves the atmosphere between you, making the interaction very light and fun. Wanda is unfamiliar at first - Pietro would recognize that Wanda had a shy and alert nature even better than she did. He would constantly tease her about being too self-conscious, and in need of relaxing, and would surely be surprised to see her laugh as easily as she is doing now.

You picked up a shopping cart and seemed to have made it your morning mission to make her laugh as you sort through the groceries. You did little dances with the objects, threw bad jokes and flirtations at her, and even told loose facts as if you were close friends.

Wanda now knew that you lived in a shared apartment with Carol and two other girls and that you could speak Sokovian fluently. You were not a vegetarian even though you tried about three times, and you couldn't have pets even though you really wanted a cat because your roommates were allergic. And you could sing Lorde.

"She's so dramatic, I love it." You declare as the music starts on the speakers in the marketplace. You and Wanda are in the pasta aisle, and she giggles softly. "She's like a Taylor Swift of lesbians, but more alternative."

Wanda chuckles, soft anxiety rising in her stomach. She follows you down the hallway. "But there's a theory that Taylor Swift likes girls too, you know?"

You chuckle, shrugging. "Yeah, I've heard of it. But I think I prefer the ones who actually came out. Nothing against Taylor, of course, she's a great artist. I just won't refer to her as a queer icon when she's never really taken her place in the community."

Wanda bites her tongue, the question about your sexuality on the tip. Would it be weird to question whether you liked girls in the middle of pasta hall? And why would that make a difference to her?

Your cell phone vibrates, and as soon as you read the notification, you huff softly. Wanda is curious to know what it is, but you put the device away and hurry up the pace. "Come on, Maximoff, our friends are hungry too."

You are distant on the way back, and Wanda twists the fabric of her shorts in curiosity as to why.

Luckily, you accompany her to the kitchen with the groceries.

The guys in the cabin are waking up a bit, but the space is small enough that no one will bother you two with breakfast, even if the living room fills up with teenagers.

"Can you make the coffee while I prepare sandwiches for us?" You ask so gently that Wanda doesn't even hear the question properly, and only nods in agreement. She moves around, trying not to touch you - which is practically impossible in that small space - but you don't seem to notice much, busy with bread and cheese. "You're not a vegetarian, are you Maximoff? I was going to put some ham on this."

"I'm not, you can follow your recipe." Wanda retorts with a small smile, a curious look at the double sandwiches you are preparing. She bites her lip when you catch her looking and offers her a wink before returning to the task.

Carol appears in the kitchen doorway next.

"Good morning, cuties. Got any coffee?" She asks. Wanda denies it with her head.

"It's not ready yet."

Carol yawns, moving closer to look at the market bags you have brought. She chuckles then. "Jesus, Y/N, did you buy anything healthy?" You shrug, indifferent to the question. Carol sighs. "You know you have half the soccer team here, right?"

"If they're bothered they buy their own food." You retort impolitely. Carol rolls her eyes.

"Don't be rude; you know you should eat better too-"

"Sure, Mom." You cut her off, turning your back on her to hand Wanda her sandwich. "Here you go, princess."

The brunette smiles half-heartedly at the nickname in Carol's presence, but the blonde only sighs in defeat at the argument and doesn't even seem to notice. She leaves the kitchen, and you stare at Wanda expectantly. She smiles shyly before taking a bite of the sandwich and is surprised at how good it tastes.

"Wow, what did you put in here?"

You chuckle. "Chef's secret." You joke, wrinkling your nose in an adorable way as you pick up your sandwich. You eat together for a moment until the kettle beeps and Wanda leaves the rest of the sandwich on the countertop to finish the coffee.

"Did you like it?" you ask as she pours the drink. Wanda smiles.

"Yeah, quite a bit." She assures you. "Too bad it's a chef's secret, I'd love to learn how to make it."

You chuckle, finishing chewing your piece before clarifying:

"Well, it's a family recipe. That's why it's a secret. You'd have to be part Danvers to earn the legal right to know the ingredients." You joke, getting a soft chuckle from Wanda. You stare at her, almost fascinated. "What about you? Don't you have any family traditions?"

Wanda is thoughtful for a moment, an expression on her face that you would describe as adorable to say the least. And then she gives a small laugh.

"I think so." She says, pouring a mug. "Mom always prepares Šišky on birthdays. I think it looks like American doughnuts."

"Yummy." You murmur causing me to smile in agreement. "And when is your birthday?"

Wanda is surprised but smiles, "February 10th." She answers and watches you pull your cell phone out of your pocket at the same minute.

"Well, let me save the date then." You comment, putting her birth date into the calendar app with the greatest tranquility in the world. Wanda thinks she is blushing.

"What about your...?"

But her question goes unanswered because a tall boy appears in the kitchen doorway. It's Peter Parker, another of Tony's classmates who is on the soccer team. He stretches out gently and you put your cell phone away, placing your snack away on the counter to greet him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." You say, and it is so affectionate that Wanda swallows dry. He chuckles sleepily, moving closer. Wanda's heart stops when he kisses you on the mouth. "Did you sleep well?"

He mumbles in agreement, shrugging before looking at Wanda and wishing her good morning.

"What's for breakfast?" He asks.

"Food." You retort amusedly, making him chuckle and roll his eyes.

"Okay, smarty pants." He grumbles, yawning a little. "Clearly you didn't buy anything healthy, you know Steve's gonna give you a hard time for that, right?"

You shrug, letting him hug your waist. "I'm terrified." You comment wryly, making Peter laugh.

Wanda feels sick. He kisses your cheek again, and she clears her throat. She grabs the coffee mug, and barely manages to force a smile before practically running out of the kitchen.

The rest of the folks are gradually waking up, and when Wanda is on the porch drinking coffee, Vision comes over to greet her.

"You're Wanda, right? Tony told me about you."

He is gentle, and he is good-looking. And Wanda remembers Peter Parker kissing you in the kitchen, so she smiles and asks Vision to sit with her. It's exactly as it should be, she convinces herself.

–//–

Ponedeljek, 14:30 (Monday, 2.40 am)

Whatever Wanda expected from this holiday, she was not prepared for anything that actually happened.

On Saturday, everyone played paintball between the cabins. Vision was her partner. He was a good player, but you hit him on the top of his helmet two minutes into the game.

You looked Wanda in the eye but didn't shoot her, disappearing between the cabins the next minute. She kept thinking about this interaction all day.

On Sunday, the gang went outside to play soccer and it was a real mess. Wanda was discreetly watching you play, annoyed at the line her thoughts took with the image of you sweating and panting, but she had no choice but to stay outside because Carol and Natasha were making out in her bedroom. She wasn't sure when they happened again, but she wasn't surprised that she missed it, having been too busy the whole holiday trying not to pay attention to you.

When it was finally time to leave, and everyone was finishing cleaning the cabin in pairs, Wanda caught you and Peter fighting outside when she went to put some bottles out for recycling.

"I don't need a babysitter, Parker!" You angrily declared, gesturing a little.

"I'm just taking care of you-"

"I'm not a fucking child!"

Peter rolls his eyes. "No, but you act like one." He accuses annoyed, and you chuckle humorlessly, crossing your arms. He sighs in defeat, raising a hand to your arm but you pull away from the touch. "Okay, whatever. Go chill out, then we'll talk."

He walks off angrily into the cabin through the kitchen entrance, and Wanda makes a noise so as not to startle you.

You run a hand across your face, forcing a smile before approaching her, "Let me help you with this." You say, taking the case of beers from her hand without waiting for a response. Wanda swallows dryly, but decides to follow your cue, and picks up another box further away before following you to the recyclable trash cans.

You place one box next to the other on top of Carol's open truck, in the intention of separating the bottles and cans. Wanda takes a risk:

"Is everything okay between you and Peter?"

You chuckle weakly, grabbing two bottles from the pile.

"Sure, just a silly argument." You mutter moving away to put the bottles in the correct garbage can. "He's sweet, but he's still a man."

Wanda frowns. "What do you mean?"

You short, shrugging; "You've never had a boyfriend?" You ask, and Wanda denies it with her head. You sigh, searching for the right words. "Well, boys can be... obnoxious." You comment with a short laugh. "It's just, they're different. How they treat us, how they act with us and with other people. Peter is really sweet when he's with me, but when he's around his friends he's a jerk and kind of controlling. And by god, don't even get me started when it's around my father... Fucking treating me like I'm something he owns just to please the old man."

Wanda separates a few bottles, thoughtful towards your statements. "I'm sorry."

You hum, shrugging. "Okay, it's not really our fault that society is patriarchal and sexist. It's going to take Peter some time to break the norms and act decently, but I'm under no obligation whatsoever to deal with it."

Wanda swallows dryly. "D-did you broke up with him?"

You look at her with surprise. "No? I meant that I don't have to take pity on him. If he acts like an idiot, we'll fight. And if he doesn't change, then we'll break up."

The brunette tries to hide her disappointment with a hum of understanding. You look at her curiously.

"You and Vision seem to be getting along well."

She forces a chuckle, nodding. She grabs more bottles and runs away from your gaze as she replies, "I guess so."

"Is he your boyfriend now or what?"

Wanda laughs nervously, shaking her head. "No, not really."

"He seems interested in changing that." You insist, studying her reactions. Wanda swallows dryly, putting away other bottles.

"I think so." She murmurs. You hum almost angry all of a sudden - Wanda jumps when you mash a can with a hard punch - and she swallows dryly before raising her gaze to you again. "Do you think...I should accept? If he asks."

You stare at her with an indecipherable expression, biting the inside of your cheek. Wanda almost takes back the question, but you sigh and look away.

"I don't know, you're the one who has to know." You retort with forced casualness. "If you like him, say yes. You were together the whole holiday, I don't see what the problem is."

Wanda stares at the bottles in her hands, her heart racing in her chest.

"Maybe... I was just scared." She murmurs, surprising you. You stare at her expectantly, but Wanda doesn't meet your gaze, her fingers on the bottles. "Maybe I think Vision is likely my only option."

You grimace softly. "What are you talking about?"

Wanda laughs sadly, looking at you. "Like... I don't think there's anyone else to love me. Maybe Vision is my only option, and I just... I'm tired of being alone."

The heartfelt confession takes her by surprise as well. But at this point, Wanda shouldn't be impressed that your presence in her life has come to turn everything upside down at once.

And when you simply step forward, and bring a hand to her face, pulling a lock of hair out of front of her eyes, Wanda thinks you are doing it on purpose.

"Don't you think it's selfish to stick by someone just for convenience, Wanda? Vis has feelings too." The seriousness of your words doesn't do justice to the gentle touch on her face, and Wanda feels a mix of conflicting emotions in her chest.

"Maybe I'm just a bad person." She declares with a sad laugh, but you don't smile.

"I don't think so." You whisper, your thumb caressing her cheek. "I think you are very sweet. And maybe you just need to understand that lots of people love you. And you won't be alone if you say no to a boy you don't like."

Wanda lets out a shuddering breath. "Who says I don't like him?" She teases, her knees going weak as you firm your grip on her cheek and lean in all at once.

Your breath hits her lips, and Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the impact that doesn't come. You gasp softly, your breath heavy against her cheek.

Your hand leaves her cheek and goes down to a bottle beside you.

You step back a half second before Carol appears in the area where you are standing. Wanda didn't even hear her coming, in fact, she doesn't think she heard much beyond her own heart beating in her ears.

"Aren't you guys done with that yet? Come on people, we have to get on the road soon." Carol repressed, but you forced a laugh at her, muttering something about her being a pain in the ass.

If you noticed how Wanda's hands were shaking as she held the next bottles, you didn't say.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #skamverse collection #alt er love series #yellow curtains #wanda maximoff imagines

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swaps55 · 8 months

Text

I was asked for the “director’s cut” dissertation I have on this snippet, and I am easily enabled. So here we go. This is wildly self-indulgent writing thinky thoughts, so putting most of it under a cut. Spoilers for ME3-era Opus thoughts, but if you read the snippet you’ve already got some spoilers, and given I haven’t even started posting Mezzo yet, I challenge anyone to remember any of this by the time I get to it anyway. XD

Tagging @fyeahmshepkaidan @scribblesandknots and @flightofthefaeriedragon , who specifically asked for this and are about to have Regrets, sorry (not sorry).

Fugue completely rewired my way of thinking about Sam and Kaidan’s reconciliation in ME3. The game, by necessity, makes resuming the romance Shepard’s call – Kaidan says he is willing, and Shepard can choose whether or not to accept.

But grief changes people. And Sam and Kaidan have a long history and soulmate level connection to each other at the time of Alchera. Can you even imagine going through losing someone like that, clawing your way back to your life for two years, transforming yourself into something new against your will because grief didn’t give you a choice, only to have the person you’ve been grieving walk back into your life with open arms, because for him, none of it happened?

At first you might think the gut reaction is, “oh thank god.” They’re back! Everything can be okay again! But I don’t think so. You spent all that time fighting a war that…in the end didn’t need to be fought. You are bruised and bloody, bent into a new shape for better or for worse, and it turns out you didn’t have to do any of it.

You did it all for nothing. For nothing.

Where do you put that frustration? That anger? It wasn’t Sam’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. But that anger has to go somewhere. Walking back into that relationship with open arms isn’t possible. You’ve changed too much. To make it more complicated, nothing has changed about who Sam is or what he does. The stakes are even higher now, and the odds of him getting out of it alive are so slim.

Going back to him means setting yourself up to lose him again, only now you know what that feels like.

All this to say because Kaidan hurt so much for so long, when he finally gets there and gives in to the inevitable, he needs a moment of catharsis. A big one. He’s earned it.

But this is a surprisingly difficult thing to achieve, because ME3 is all about the weight on Shepard’s shoulders. The fate of the galaxy rests on him. There is no room to be the strong one, to be the comfort Kaidan needs, because he needs the same thing.

One of the really difficult parts of a relationship is handling the times when you are both on the downswing. It’s one thing when one person is hurting and the other is comforting, but when you’re both down the hole, there is no one to throw the rope and help you out. You now have to work together to do it, when neither of you are in a place to be the person your partner needs. That’s hard. It’s hard in real life, and complex to navigate in fiction.

This made it really difficult to come up with a way for the two of them to reconcile that respected their emotional needs. Fugue biased me so much towards Kaidan that I kept envisioning that reconciliation being centered on Sam comforting Kaidan in ways that weren’t addressing how broken and fragile Sam is in those moments.

But whatever the solution was, that catharsis for Kaidan was non-negotiable. He needed it, and I needed it for writing Fugue in the first place, lol.

One of the repeating narrative threads throughout Fugue was Kaidan dreaming about Sam being alive, only to wake up to the absence of him in the form of a still gravity well and a neatly made bed, two things that are impossible to have when sharing a bed with that man. So I have always, always, envisioned that moment where Kaidan wakes up for the first time and the dream…doesn’t end. Sam is there. The bedding is a mess. The gravity well is doing somersaults again. And then he rolls over, trying to figure out if he’s going insane or not, and gets hit with the first “Hey, you,” since Sam died.

But in all my daydreaming, that’s where the scene ended. ‘Hey, you,’ was such a significant moment in Sonata, that I was really enamored with the notion that ending on the ‘hey, you,’ would be a full-circle mic drop on the reader, and the narrative signal that everything was going to be okay. The problem with this is that it leaves Kaidan’s reaction to it up to the reader, and that’s ultimately unfair to Kaidan. He needs his moment of catharsis, and it needs to be in present action.

So in this snippet, I let the scene continue, because once I had the nature of their reconciliation figured out, this became the right moment for Kaidan to get that catharsis. The reconciliation will be driven by Sam’s vulnerability because it more or less has to be, and it forces Kaidan to play the part of the strong one when he isn’t. So when Kaidan gets that reality check – waking up and realizing the dream didn’t end – he gets to be the one who falls apart, and Sam, who got the emotional strength he needed the night before, is in a position to give Kaidan what he needs. It’s closure to the events of Fugue. The emotional breakdown calls back to the panic attack in Sonata when Sam was there, and the one in Fugue where he wasn’t. And letting it happen AFTER the reconciliation itself allows Kaidan to get what he needs while still being true to himself: He has always been Shepard’s guardian, the person who protects Shepard so he can protect everyone else, and he still got to do that when Sam needed it most.

Also, Sam gets to call him baby, something that he will deny if you ask him about it, and he will believe himself.

It was the, “Oh, baby. I have you. I’m here,” that drove me to actually write the scene. It popped into my head out of nowhere from someone whose only term of endearment is “Hey, you” and felt like the kind of out-of-character but perfectly in-character thing that only gets to happen once, so it happens when it counts.

#how writing is written #opus!verse

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studiesof-fandom · 6 months

Note

hey! this is a method question more than anything, but i wondered whether you would have any advice re tackling how a researcher should approach ‘selecting’ sources (specifically fanfiction) in an instance where there are too many texts for a researcher to realistically read. i appreciate it depends on what you are looking for, but if you have any theories or research that discusses how to manage volume and gauge significance - and even just advice on how best to track and log notes on whats been read - I’d really appreciate it!! thanks so much

This is a very difficult question, because I didn’t quite understand if you’re asking me about how to select fic (as in the story) for you to analyze and study or to find theoretical texts about fanfiction that fits your research. I’ll answer both because I have enough knowledge to do that.

If it’s about selecting fics - you need to choose the ones that fit your research. Personal advice: stick to the ones you really like because you’re going to deal with them for a long period of time. For example, let’s say I have to write a research paper about omegaverse (pls keep in mind I study literature) and I want to explore the diversity that omegaverse can be presented by ficwriters. I’ll pick 5 different fics that I really like - it can be different from fandoms and feature different couples because you’re working with the theme omegaverse and not a ship itself, for example. Then, I’ll show how in which one of them the omegaverse works - the differences, the similarities, etc. The biggest mistake you can make, in my opinion, is to choose the fic first and then choose what you want to research. Sometimes our connection with a story is very deep, but it doesn’t mean that the fic has enough material for you to analyze depending on your topic of research. Seriously, choosing a fic is all about what you read and enjoy and if you can pick the things you can get to do your research. As I have no idea what you’re researching, I can’t help much, sorry!

Ok, I just realized you didn’t specify if you were researching specific fics or like a whole genre/theme of fics. If it’s the first, then what I say applies, but if it’s the second, disregard that. I don’t have any experience researching a large amount of data aka quantitative research. I can suggest two books for you to read about it that I believe it’s trustworthy: Quantitative Methodologies using Multi-Methods and Analyzing Media Messages.

It seems to me, from what you’re asking, is that you’re lost dealing with doing research itself. My advice is to read about academic research. Those are books from trustworthy publishing houses that might help you:

Doing Academic Research (Routledge)

A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations (This one is really popular)

Evaluating Research in Academic Journals

Doing Academic Research (Cambridge)

I found this Research and Publications Planner: The Graduate Student's Guide to Publishing Academic Research - reading the reviews it seems to be a notebook that helps you organize your research and keep track of things.

About the organization of your research: it’s very personal. The way I keep track of mine is like this. I have a folder for my research in my Google Drive and I created a few separated folders within it. I’ll give you an example: how I deal with the references I use in my research and the theoretical foundation. First, I separated by topic, in my case is autoethnography (the methodology of my research), fanfiction (the academics texts I use to talk about fic that aligns with my perception) and creative writing (it’s a topic I might touch in my research but I’m not sure yet). Then, I pick the articles and books - for you to do this you’ll need to start with the forefathers and foremothers of the field. Any research on google will tell you who are the leading researchers in whatever field you’re working on. Usually when I’m reading the academic texts, I create a doc and copy and paste the bits I find relevant for me, taking notes of the page and chapter so I can put it in my references later.

As it seems you’re studying fanfiction here are the authors you have to know for doing an incredible work for fanfiction: Henry Jenkins, Sara Gwenllian Jones, Kristina Busse, Karen Hellekson, Abigail Derecho, Francesca Coppa, Louisa Ellen Stein, Judith Fathallah, Anne Jamison and Ika Willis.

Recs about theoretical texts related to fic as a genre:

A Fan Studies Primer

In Fan Fiction and Fan Communities in the Age of the Internet you can find those two texts: Archontic Literature and Writing Bodies in Space

Fic: Why Fanfiction Is Taking Over the World

Introduction of The Fanfiction Reader

Framing Fan Fiction

The Fan Fiction Studies Reader

If you want to talk to me, send me an email to [email protected]. I hope I helped a bit!

#flowerofknights #replies

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sipsteainanxiety · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

i was tagged by @coopigeoncoo @andypantsx3 @willowser and @namodawrites to do this lil self fic rec game and after finally sitting down to think about it for a very... long... time... i have done it! thank you all for the tag i kiss you each on the forehead and give you a bowl of sliced fruit<3

after looking at all the wips i have in docs right now, i can definitely say that this list would be completely different if i had finished a few of them, but for now this is my ranked list for things i've published already lol

devil's glare — demon!bkg x reader

bakugou katsuki is a powerful demon that you have the pleasure of dating. but when he pisses you off one day, you decide to get back at him in a pretty petty way: drawing a salt circle around you to force him to apologize

i had THEE most fun writing this one shot LMAO. it was based on a tiktok of all things that i'd found back when i was still on the app pfft. i just loved the idea of bkg being all surly and aggravated that his little human had purposely drawn a salt circle to prevent him from encroaching on their space. and like... him dealing with wanting to idk kiss you so bad but you're trying to teach him a lesson and he's sooooo mad and fuck, he's gonna do whatever he can to get you to comply to him lmao. if i could draw, there's this one scene where you're wearing this like. cute little set of pjs staring up at this big ass demon, wings unfurled threateningly, snarl on his face, arms crossed with a line of salt in between the two of you. like i have a vision. too bad i can't draw it LMFAOO. maybe one day

2. holding out (just for you) — dragon!bkg x reader

in which you find a horrendously injured dragon in a cave and make it your duty to heal him, not knowing that he’s the infamous dragonshifter, bakugo katsuki, who has been cursed to remain trapped in his dragon form forever—unless the spell is broken

this fic... oh boy. i've been working on this fic since mmm 2021 i think? i can't believe it's been a year since the big bang LMFAOO. i also can't blv this shit evolved from being a standalone to having 3 spinoffs and a sequel but well. here we are. complaints aside i really do have fun writing this fic!! i dunno!! i dont think i'd ever read a dragon bkg fic before and i was like fine i'll do it myself and this happened. i added way too much plot and you guys don't even know about half the worldbuilding and shit i have planned for the sequel HAHA. i can't even talk about it bc it would be major spoilers rn rhrsfjhrjfrjrhjg. it's also been giving me such a rough time lately pfft, especially with having to make sure everything lines up for the spinoffs n stuff. im so afraid of publishing ch4 and having to go back and tweak things bc i havent planned out far enough sdkjfsjkdf. i think it just means i'm gonna have to go on a hiatus or smthn and write out all the spinoffs + ch4 at once idk

3. and i give my all (to you) — merman!bkg x reader

you think you bit off more than you could chew when you decided to do your dissertation on ocean acidification, leaving you stranded out in the open ocean. alone. for months. well… maybe you weren’t so alone after all

this is another fic that i've been working on way longer than it's been posted for pfft. i can't blv the first chapter was released over a year ago LMAOOO i am so sorry. i do like this fic tho bc it's one of the easier ones to write and i go back to it sometimes between writing for dragon bkg lol. like i have the chapters all mapped out, all i have to do is sit down and write em. ch2's at abt 3k rn tho and i hit a spot where i'm like oof i dont wanna write these descriptions dfhdkfg it's just a silly goofy story with merbaku and dealing with some of the subtle intricacies of getting to know a mermaid. actually, fun fact, this originally started off as a fic for jotaro from jjba, back when i was in my jjba era. but then i went back to my bkg era and switched it over. i didn't even have to change much LMFAOO jotaro and bkg act the same sometimes. also!! this is the first fic where i'm like... drawing little doodles for each chapter!! and it's so nice but also i'm like damn wtf do i draw for the rest of these chapters.... i'll figure it out ig

4. loving all the parts of you — pro hero!bkg x reader

in which you learn to love all the prickly parts that make up bakugou katsuki

i.. don't think i've thought about this fic for a very, very long time. but i just scrolled thru the masterlist and stuff and i... really liked writing it (when i was focused on it anyways). it's one of my gentler fics tbh. it's more of a character study of bkg, exploring a different aspect of him in each chapter. tbh i need to go through and reread it and make edits so it can better match the writing style i have now, but i rly liked thinking abt what would make bkg tick as a pro and as a person. and tbh, with what i know now of the manga and anime i think i could go very deep with it pfft. also the banner i made for this fic is so cute LOL. it's not high on my priority list rn bc i have other things i wanna work on, but i do hope to return to it one day.

5. forget me not — pro hero!bkg x reader

When you first woke up, you found yourself in a white room, lights blinding you from all directions. A bit disoriented, you squinted and looked around, realizing you were chained to a chair, your arms locked behind you. In front of you was a poster of a man, muscles rippling throughout his body, a spiky mess of ash blond hair nestled on his head, and striking crimson eyes glaring right at you from behind a black mask. In the upper right corner was the name “DYNAMIGHT” in black and orange letters. As you observed the poster, the sound of a P.A. system suddenly rang into existence, the deep, hoarse voice of an unknown person echoing around you. “Your name is [Name] [Surname],” the voice said without emotion, “and you hate the man named Bakugou Katsuki.”

THIS FIC... THIS FCKIN FIC. i have so much i can say about this fic and i am so sorry for the oncoming ramble pfft. firstly, it's both my baby and my number one fucking enemy. like, holy shit i think it gave me the most paralyzing anxiety and bc of this it took me like 3-4 years to finish (apart from being generally busy of course). i started it literally while i was in high school n applying to college, so of course there are aspects of it that i look at now and i'm like mmm don't like that. not to mention there have been so many things that happened in the anime/manga that i wasn't able to add or delve deeper into!! like the war!! bkg's fcking trauma!! midoriya's quirks!! i was an anime only when i first started releasing chapters (and i still am), so i didnt know about the endeavor agency arc or anything so i defaulted to shit with best jeanist and idkidk.

if i could rewrite all of fmn, i think i would. or maybe not all, but a good chunk of it. like i'd condense the first few chapters probably. i also have a different grasp of bkg's characterization now compared to when i was younger lmao. putting bkg in that specific circumstance (iykyk, i wont spoil it) only happened bc of certain outside factors that forced him into that position. which was how i was able to justify it. but... idk. IDK!! this fic had so many things to it that i was not knowledgeable about so i winged a lot of things without doing proper research (i.e. hospitals, police investigations, general bureaucracy and whatnot) and i feel like this has caused certain plot holes that i am not able to detect, but like.... it's been so long already that i'm too lazy to fix it.

i just really wanted to write about having amnesia but... still having this muscle memory and ache of the person you were in love with. that you can fall in love with them all over again. but, jeez, i put the reader through so much that there's so much... trauma and brainwashing and just rhhrhjrkhrhgrkjg. she's a mess and a half!! and this makes it so difficult to read fmn bc she's so frustrating!! but! at the same time idk it was interesting exploring that kind of ptsd and recovery. i think at my core i love writing about truly heartwrenching topics and horror. i rmb i had the most fun writing about reader's nightmares or that one chapter where she was messing around with illusions. actually- one of the things i would change is the reader's fckin quirk and hero name LMAOOOOO what the fuck i made her so op i basically just smashed together dr strange's and wanda's powers for her pfft. i'd also tweak her personality a little, i think.

i digress. anyways. im in the process of editing all of fmn (just like. writing tweaks. changing the phrasing of certain sentences. adding more fluff to descriptions) and i can really see how much my style has evolved lol. like, i am the most happy and proud of the later chapters, where you can really feel certain emotions with bkg and reader. like... the beach scene, or the stakeout scene, or the party scene!! i think i would also add more substance to the investigation and how being a hero is like post-war. the antagonists as well!! there's just so much that could've been built on, but at the same time... i didn't want to go too deep into it bc i was writing an amnesia recovery story.

flaming aside, i am very glad i was able to pull those plot twists successfully LOL. i loved reading people's theories back when i was still updating it, seeing them question things and being like wait a minute... no way... it can't be... it was an era i will never forget pfft. but... because of that expectation i think i was very nervous to reveal specific things or even write the ending bc i didn't know if people would be satisfied lol. fmn was so complicated and for what sdfkjhs. fanfic shouldnt make you this anxious fr and yet there i was. i'm glad im done with it, but at the same time.. i do miss it.

tldr: fmn is the fic that i am the most proud of but also the most insecure LMFAOO. i do eventually want to get to the extra chapters from bkg's pov for it but... idk. i don't wanna even look at it right now sdhfskdfjsf

thank u all for coming to my ted talk B) i'm sorry if u've been tagged alr in this but here we go anyways!! no pressure tags: @earthtooz @call-me-ko @thecatduet422 @boo-kugo @theloveinc <3

#jeez that fmn ramble rly is long but it is what it is #i could go on even more about it ngl #but i wont sdkhksdf #gamer girling w shay

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