#(to be clear. i’m pro casual sex for other people. i just don’t like sex)

[pregstiel]

guy who hates dating apps voice “should i get on hinge”

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

[kurokoros]

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.” 

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?” 

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty. 

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all. 

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation. 

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!” 

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers. 

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation. 

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass. 

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow. 

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still. 

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head. 

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you. 

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes. 

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.” 

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” 

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

[gashinabts]

hands-on learner| (m)

Word: 3.5k

Pairing: hentai voice actor!Seokjin x hentai voice actor!Reader

Genre: mature, smut, fluff

Summary: seokjin teaches you in unethical way on how to give your best hentai voice.

Warnings: hentai, public sex, DEGRADING, humiliation, dirty talk, rough sex, slut is used multiple times, fingering, overstimulation, choking, spitting, unprotected sex, ass & pussy slapping

a/n: just a quick one-shot for my babes. hope you enjoy this fic :) remember that your comments and support are what motivates me to write!

When you were little you always wanted to help people. The teacher would ask you what you want to be when you grow up, and you would reply to a doctor or a nurse somewhere in the lines of helping people. But when you came to the age of realizing that you live in a world where being the person you want to be came with a price such as starving yourself in order to pay for college classes you changed what you wanted to be. 

You are still helping people but not in a way that people would give a noble peace award for. As in right now you are reading a lewd script and fake orgasming. “ Y/N, reshoot. The words are off,” the director tells you. You look at the screen and watch as the hentai girl is getting pumped by an overload of semen, and you do a voiceover of a few high pitch moans and cries. “ Okay! Good,” the director gives you a thumbs up. 

You smile and gulp the water soothing your throat, you get out of the sound booth immediately bumping into Seokjin's chest. “ Watch and learn how a real pro does his work,” he tells you in a cocky tone. Seokjin is just wearing a hoodie and jeans yet he looks like a high class model, his light brown hair is pushed back and he looks hot but too bad he is an asshole.

Rolling your eyes you push his chest away, “ No thanks. All you have is a couple of weird cringey dialogue and a few grunts,” you hear him laugh as he enters the vocal booth. You sit down next to Yoongi who is part of the sound engineer making sure everything goes well. “ I hate him. He thinks he is all that, look at him,” you scoff.

“ Yeah, it also looks like you want to fuck him,” Yoongi lets out a chuckle. Okay, he is not wrong. You want to fuck Seokjin at least once to get all the sexual tension out of the way but somewhere in the back of the mind you think Seokjin likes to fuck in front of mirrors so he can watch himself the whole time. 

The director taps you on your shoulder and brings you outside in the hallway, “ The team and I were going through the comments from the previous work we have done…” Mr. Kim pulls out his ipad. Your eyes zoom in at some of the comments that make you see red.

@lolligirls- She sounds so fake

↳ @Y/N’sbitch- dumbass all of this is fake. no one is actually having sex in these hentai videos

@hentitties- Clearly this voice actor never had sex...lol

@hrny4animethighs- I couldn’t get past the five minutes, I had to go to a different video

@hentaiaddict- Seokjin is such a good voice actor, I nearly creamed my pants from him just saying hello

“ Thank you Y/N’sbitch, clearly this person knows how things work,” you roll your eyes. You give the ipad back not wanting to see it anymore, what do these people know about voice acting, you're the one getting paid and making them ejaculate in tissue in their gamer room. 

Mr. Kim clears his throat before speaking, “ There are more praises and positive comments for Seokjin’s voice so I asked him to give you some pointers. You guys will have to send me a voice memo of the script I’m going to send you tonight,” you make a sound a protest but he gives you a look, “ Or else you will just have a supporting role in the newest project.” He walks off to the other direction. The minute he’s out of earshot you kick the trash can which makes the trash fall out causing you to get more frustrated. You pick up the trash and toss it in the bin, muttering curse words to yourself. Now you have to see Seokjin’s cocky face all night giving you stupid tips that you don’t even need. 

You walk back inside the studio, Seokjin is out of the vocal booth and flirting with a woman, while Yoongi is going over the vocal track. “ I heard what happened, in all honesty you are my second favorite voice actor,” Yoongi tells you as you sit next to him.

You sigh, “ Who’s your first?” The chair makes a squeak as you adjust the seat height. Glancing over at Seokjin, he makes eye contact while giving you a smug smile then turning back to his conversation with the lady. Scoffing, you turn your attention to Yoongi as he fiddles with track volume.

Yoongi looks at you, his eyebags are dark “ Jimin,” he nonchalantly says. You aren’t even surprise, since they are fucking around. They are somewhere in the lines of friends to lovers but they are both too stubborn to admit they have deep feelings for eachother.

“ I would have never guessed...at least you are going to be here tonight,” you take a sip of the water down the ice coffee you bought earlier this morning. If Yoongi is here, you have nothing to worry about.

“ Actually it’s just going to be you and Seokjin. Told Mr. Kim I have an important date,” Yoongi’s ears turn red. At least someone is getting dick you think to yourself. “ Try not to kill each other,” he tells you. 

****

Everyone has left the studio and it’s just you and Seokjin. You are going through your lines, a corny script of a girl spending the night with her boyfriend’s best friend and they end up fucking, nothing out of the ordinary. “ Okay, I’m ready. I don’t want to be here all night,” you look at him casually scrolling on his phone. 

“ Aww, don’t be so mean. I know you are dying to be here with me,” Seokjin puts his phone away, coming closer to you after he presses the start button. He tosses his arm over your shoulder, “ Okay let’s get the show on the road princess,” Seokjin guides you to the vocal booth. Immediately you groan, pushing his arm away but your ears turn red at the pet name.

The script is placed right in front of you and you start to read it, going through the introduction of the characters. 

Seokjin looks at you more carefully when it gets to the saucy part, his finger on his chin as if he is really inspecting you. “ Mmm, it feels really good,” you whine at the end, making sure you sound as lewd as possible. 

Seokjin makes a sharp clap, making you halt from any other sound. “ It doesn’t sound like it feels good. You need to make it sound more real.” Seokjin shakes his head, there’s a small smirk. Your eye twitches wondering if he just wants to purposely get you irritated. “ Do it again, but this time make it sound like someone is actually fucking you,” he nods his head for you to continue. 

The last time you got fuck was a year ago, and it was a bad experience. You didn’t even orgasm and the guy came in less than five minutes. This time you repeat the line but with a whiny and sultry tone. Seokjin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment and you get frustrated. “ Well okay then teach me, because I think I sound fucking great,” you pull at the strand of your hair. 

“ No need to get mad, I can help you,” Seokjin laughs at your frustration. He comes closer to you and you can smell his faint masculine cologne, his body is close to you. “ I want you to imagine it as if I was fucking you,” he whispers darkly. 

You bite your cheek from cursing him off, but you should at least try it out. So you envision him fucking you from behind. The image of his manly hand wrapped around your head while the other is around your neck. He’s probably the type to fuck you like you don’t matter and you can’t help it that actually turns you on. “ Mmm, it feels really good,” you moan as if he is actually ramming his cock into you. You look at his approval and he nods, a small sense of victory comes over you. Until you feel his hand pushing your hair to the other side you leaving one side of your neck bare. He is closer to you, right behind you, his chest barely touching your body.

“ Is this okay?” He whispers into your ear. You whisper a yes and his plump lips kiss your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses that leaves your skin tingling. “ I’m barely touching you and you are so reactive,” he takes notice of your heavy breathing. He licks a small part of your neck, then blows on it watching you squirm at the sudden coldness. 

“ Someone can walk in,” you look at the door. You don’t remember locking it, and what if the janitor comes in. Maybe that makes it more tempting for you, being caught in Seokjin’s lust. “ Seokjin,” you whine as he bites on your earlobe. 

“ You would like that...to have someone see you getting fucked hard by me. Drooling because of my cock is hitting you in just the right spot,” his hand goes under your shirt just resting on bare waist. Then his fingers tracing up and down your stomach meeting the underside of your bra but then going back down. 

“ I-no,” you shake your head in defiance. He laughs and grabs your jaw forcing your neck to twist and look at him. His eyes are darker, and he gives you a pointed look making you change your answer. “ Yes, I’d like that,” you whimper, as his rough hand pats your cheek heavily as a reward.

“ See silly girl, lying won’t get you anywhere,” he taunts you. His body then pushes you forward so you now against the glass window, you place your hands on the cold glass. Seokjin takes his time taking off your clothes. You are the only one naked on the and the cold air from the ac makes your nipples hard and from the lustful stare Seokjin has. “ I should just leave you like this and call everyone here to look at you,” Seokjin has a sinister smile when you shake your head in fear. “ Why? You look like a perfect slut. I bet you are already wet from just me kissing your neck,” he pushes your chest so your back is now against the cold window. 

The degrading names are something new to you, and your thighs squeezed together try to relieve some pain. “ Then leave me here. I bet someone else can fuck me better than you,” you shrug your shoulders, hoping he’ll get mad. 

His jaw clenches, “ Spread your legs,” he forcefully helps you by slapping the inside of your thighs. “ Look at you so fucking wet,” he comments looking down at your drolling lips. His hand then comes to slap your cunt, you flinch but then feel the pain subside to pleasure. Your body coming forward falling into his chest but his hand pushes you back to the glass, “ Take it like a good slut,” he tsk at you shaking his head. The slaps come in intervals as he chuckles at your betweens of moaning and whimpering. A few slaps hitting your clit and you cry out his name to slap you more. By the time he is done your cunt feels numb and your legs shake, your hands fisting at his shirt. “ We just started and you are already giving up on me,” he massages your cunt soothingly, spreading your arousal and barely entering the tip of his finger in your entrance.

Shaking your head, you look up at him, “ Seokjin, please fuck me. I want to be your good slut,” you deliriously say in ecstasy. His lips lift up and his two fingers thrust quickly into you, with no warning. Your head falls forward onto his hard chest staring at his fingers thrusting deep and hard, the juices becoming more apparent on his hand. You have never been this wet in your whole life, is this what you have been missing? 

One of his hands pulls your hair back to you looking at him, “ Open wide,” you do as you are told and he spits in your mouth. The spit slides easy as you swallow it, opening your mouth for more as if it was fiji water. He spits again and purposely misses your mouth landing on your cheek, “ Oops,” he smirks then wiping his spit across your whole cheek. And you don’t care, just consumed in the pleasure of his fingers still fucking you open. Your eyes roll back when his fingers curl, your stomach feeling warm. “ Come on my fingers you dirty slut, make them smell like you,” he watches you unravel.

 One last thrust and you come all over his fingers, thighs shaking when he continues to thrust at fast pace not stopping when you try to pull away. He pushes you even more to the glass so you have no escape but to come again on his fingers, your body is confused to having back to back orgasms. Screaming his name in ecstasy, your cunt pulsates at the euphoric sensation. Body releasing everything you got, your chest is heavy and you finally feel him pull his fingers out, his fingers then shoving in your mouth. “ My fingers are dirty because of you,” he chastises you. Your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion of you tasting your own come for the first time, his intense gaze watches you suck the juices off his fingers. Moaning around his finger just like it was your favorite flavor lollipop. Sucking one last time, your lips smack as he pulls them out, “ Fuck me like you hate me,” your hand travel to his hard bulge lightly squeezing it. 

You close your eyes and pucker your lips when he leans down, only for him to whisper into your ear, “ I don’t wanna see your face if I fuck you,” he twist your body so your breast are flat against the window, side of your face pressed down on it too. You take a deep breath partially because you're nervous yet excited about what is about to come. The sound of his buckle is being undone and his pants, there’s no preparation as he thrust his cock into. Yelping at the sudden force, one of his hands holds against your throat and the other tight on your waist. His thrust are fast and rough, fucking you to his own pleasure and you don’t mind. “ I’m surprise you're tight,” he thrust harder and you cry out in pleasure, “you’re not fucking anyone, right?” Your mind is blank, only focusing on the thickness of his cock stretching you out painfully good. His hand occasionally squeezes your throat, letting your life be at his hands. He slaps your ass hard, you cry at the stinging sensation. “ Answer me slut,” he spanks your ass again harder.

Shaking your head the best you could you answer. “ No. There’s nobody,” your body jolts at his thrusts. You try your best staying still, your hands holding against the window, not providing much stability. “ Fuck Seokjin, it’s too much,” you whine. Not sure what is too much. The feeling is overwhelming, you think. Never had been fucked this good. 

His hand leaving your throat slides down to your clit, “ Shut up, you can handle it,” he chuckles, slapping your clit, shooting more sparking sensation in your core. “ I can’t stand your fucking mouth. Always talking shit about me, stupid slut. I can hear what you say about me to Yoongi. The voice booth is two way,” he pinches your clit.

Your eyes widen and you mentally want to slap yourself, but who cares the amazing sex is the consequent of your big mouth. Seokjin jackhammers into you, constantly hitting the spot that makes your eyes go cross eyed. The stars are evident when he rubs your clit hard, clawing at the window trying to grab onto anything you moan his name so lewdly as you orgasm harder than the previous two, it sounds like it came for a high-budget porno. 

Your thighs tremble at the aftermath of your orgasm yet you want him to use you more. “ Are you gonna take my come like a good slut?” Seokjin asks. His hand moving from your clit to the back of your hair pulling your head back. 

“ Mmm, yes I want you to fill me up,” you moan at the thought of his come covering your walls. Three more hard thrust he unravels, grunting your name and coming deep into you, holding your body tight to his. 

There’s the feeling of his shirt sticking to your sweaty back but you ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Your body falling limply into his arms as he carries your weight. Breathing is loud from both parties, he kisses your head and rubs your arms in a soothing manner. “ I’m going to get tissues real quick, okay?” You nod, your throat feeling sore from all the screaming. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before running outside the vocal booth to get a tissue and water. You slide your body on the floor muscles strained from the rough sex, he comes back with a concerned look.

He sits down beside you, but then puts you on his lap laying the back of your head against his chest. He gently spreads your legs, and wets the tissue then uses it to clean the mess he made. Your eyes close, not used to feeling this kind of emotion, like you want to be comforted and swaddled. “ Open your mouth for me, baby,” Seokjin presses the water lightly on your lips. Parting your lips the nice cold liquid travels down your throat, relieving a small part of pain. “ Good girl,” he whispers, one hand caressing your cheek. “ My beautiful baby did a good job today,” he kisses the side of your forehead. You hum in delight at the compliment loving the feeling. He continues praising you, hands caressing every inch of skin and kissing your cheeks.

When you finally have the energy to get dressed, the room is silent because for once you guys aren’t bantering. You look at him and he is scrolling on his phone like he didn’t just fuck you to oblivion. And it kind of hurts that he’s not looking at you despite him giving all that aftercare. Maybe it’s your after sex hormones making you emotional. “ Imma just go,” your voice is hoarse. He looks up quickly showing you his sparkly eyes, “ I can’t really work like this,” you point to your throat, there’s a slight burn as you speak. 

“ Wait, I ordered us food,” Seokjin stands up showing you the receipt order of kimchi jjigae on his phone. “ But if you want to leave, that's fine,” he rubs his neck. “ Let me at least order you a taxi,” he goes on his phone.

“ No!” You embarrassingly say loudly. His eyes widened at the sudden outburst. You blush like an idiot, “ I mean, no I would like to stay and eat kimchi jjigae with you.” Seokjin smiles and you smile back.

You and Seokjin waste no time eating the food, taking less than fifteen minutes to finish the food. “ I’m too tired to do the voice memo. I’ll just take the supporting role,” you lay your head back in defeat. 

Seokjin is cleaning the mess and he shakes his head, “ I’ll tell him that you did a good job and that we forgot to record it,” he throws the food cartons in the trash can. 

“ Yeah but those stupid comments,” you groan loudly. “ What if I do suck?” You ask yourself, thinking about @hrny4animethighs’ comment. 

“ Impossible. You are a talented voice actress, those comments are just trolls.” Seokjin sits down next to you. 

You face him, smiling at his nice comment. “ Really?” You get fuck by Seokjin once and now your head over heels for him. 

“ Yes.” Seokjin cutely rubs your head. “ But if you need any help, just imagine me fucking you,” he laughs as you groan pushing his hand away. “ You want to know I’m so good at hentai voice acting?” You nod at his question. “ Because I imagine you,” he likes the way your cheeks flush. 

He stares at your lips, “ Are you finally going to kiss me?” He doesn’t answer but kissing you softly something that you didn’t expect after the filthy sex you guys had earlier. His lips feel like soft pillows and you could feel yourself getting lost, your hands finally get to feel what his hair feels like. Soft and silky.

“ Go out with me,” he pulls a centimeter away. His breath hitting your lips.

The Kim Seokjin wants to go out with you? “ It’s only fair because you gave me some pointers,” you shrug. Seokjin chuckles and attacks you with kisses, wondering how he is falling quickly for you.

-------------------------------------

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

[tainted-wine]

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. “A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)

[unit-zero-two]

Queer Representation in 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim

13 Sentinels was a game I picked up because the trailer looked neat. I had no clue what the gameplay was even like, I just felt adventurous. And I was rewarded with a fantastic game that constantly surprised me in the best possible ways. One of the ways I was surprised was in the actual textual existence of queer characters. Plural. And with a queer relationship developed and promoted prominently on screen between main characters.

Now, with the increase in queer media around the board, this alone isn’t worthy of praise. My enjoyment, and I suspect that of a lot of people, comes from the fact that there was no expectations or promises made, and yet the game still delivered. It was just there, causally, in a AAA game published by a decently well known studio. It’s a good example of what we’re asking for when asking for queer rep. It being allowed to casually exist and flavor games that aren’t just dedicated to telling these stories.

Like a lot of media if you go in expecting flawless queer representation suffusing every aspect of the game, you will be disappointed. This is a game with 15 main characters and most of the cast ends up in straight relationships. But not all of them. And past those relationships, there is still a queerness that is allowed to exist and be shown throughout this game that constantly impressed me.

I will work through the textual, on screen examples of queer representation one by one. There will be spoilers for this game in the post, so if that is something that you care about, please finish the game first before continuing. Due to the non-linear storytelling and gameplay nature of 13 Sentinels I can’t really set timestamps or anything. If you’re not done yet, but still curious to read, I personally feel like nothing I say here will ruin the experience for you. Through it’s strange nature, this is arguably a spoiler proof game and knowing what is to come can help you view the events in a different, but still enjoyable, light.

Textual Queer Representation in 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim

The place for us to begin will be with one of the 13 playable characters, Takatoshi Hijiyama. Hijiyama is very much a young man defined by when he was raised in the story. 1945 Japan in the middle of WW2. He is nationalistic and proud of Japan, it’s culture and tries to stand for it’s values. While training to be a Sentinel pilot, he falls for the demure Kiriko Douji, daughter of the professor in charge of the project. His prologue begins with him following Kiriko and finding her operating a time travel system. Kiriko reveals three things: 1) she’s the real scientist behind the project, 2) her real name is Tsukasa Okino and 3) she is a he. Okino leaves 1945 and Hijiyama chases after him. What then follows is a very clear romance storyline as Hijiyama works though self-discovery of his sexuality, his internalized biases and some good old jealousy.

Throughout his story, Hijiyama shows attraction to Okino both dressed as a woman and as a man. It’s made clear that the clothes and gender presentation aren’t the main defining factor for his attraction to Okino. He also shows attraction to some of the girls, implying a sort of bisexuality. But in the end, Okino is the one he directs his attention and dedication. The pair even share a robot in the final battle.

Next we have Takatoshi Hijiyama...of 2188. Through a data log Hijiyama finds during his story he finds out that his self of 2188 was in a committed, queer relationship with Tsukasa Okino of 2188. The two openly express their love for each other in the logs, and Hijiyama 2188′s final words are to mourn the death of his lover. The game makes it very clear what their relationship is. And watching this is a turning point for Hijiyama and how he views Okino. Seeing the death of Okino 2188 shakes him, and hardens his resolve and love.

Tsukasa Okino is an interesting character for many reason. We see him first dressed as a woman. When asked about it, he comments “Let’s just say some binaries work for me, and others don’t.”. Throughout the story, Okino alternates between being dressed as a man and a woman. He’s a very practical person and expresses several times his thoughts on both forms of dress and the pros and cons he finds in wearing them. But he never says, “I’m actually a man/woman or I prefer to wear men’s/women’s clothing.” To him, both forms are equal and he switches between them as he feels like through the story. There is also a point in the epilogue where Okino reveals that he can hack into the simulation and change his gender if he wishes. He then offers to turn into a woman and to sleep with Hijiyama. This is a very confident offer made by someone secure in their identity and sexuality. Hijiyama is understandably flustered at the teasing.

Okino openly shows sexual attraction to Hijiyama, mostly presented as teasing jabs at him. As with 2188 Hijiyama, 2188 Okino is explicitly in a Queer relationship and openly affectionate in the data logs. For the most part, present day Okino is busy during the narrative trying to save everyone from the Kaiju, but still finds time to flirt with Hijiyama.

Hijiyama and Okino are the clearest in text examples, but there’s one other stand out example. Iori Fuyusaka. For the most part she spends her story being boy crazy and confused by strange dreams, but there are two interesting moments with her. The first is during the battle section. One of the scripted after battle sections plays and it’s Iori tripping and she scrapes her hand. Yuki Takamiya helps her up and puts a bandage on her hand. It is a very slow, very tender and very deliberate scene. After Yuki leaves, Iori blushes and comments, “Whoa, what the...why is my heart racing right now? Wait, does that mean...? But I didn’t think I was...I mean, what if...” This scene makes it very clear what Iori is feeling and what she is discovering about herself.

In another scene near the beginning of the game in Iori’s story, she’s looking for a cat. She comes across Juro and Shu talking to each other in secretive whispers and embarrassed blushes.

Shu: Just listen. This is a first for me too. You feel it, right?

Juro: ...

Shu: I want to pursue this with you. Please!

Juro: I dunno...it's just...

The edges of the background softens and the camera shifts to center them, soft music plays, and Iori blushes. While the scene itself is a pretty standard confused for gay joke, it’s interesting to see it from Iori’s point of view. When caught, she says:

"I, uh...umm...I think as long as you love each other...it's okay..."

Juro is embarrassed and corrects things. Shu just laughs and is amused by the idea of dating Juro.

Juro: Do you believe us [about our dreams]?

Iori: Well, actually...I'm more surprised to hear that's all it was. Cause, I thought...

She blushes and is interrupted by the bell ringing and class starting.

And in light of the scene with Yuki, it becomes interesting in reflection that her thoughts would go there so quickly. Whether she was conscious of it or not, Iori is very aware of the possibility of same sex attraction. Whether that’s clever foreshadowing or just a neat coincidence is mostly irrelevant.

Uh...that of course brings us to Yuki Takemiya. So...Yuki will get her own post. Because there’s a lot there. Most of which I would argue is heavy subtext. I love the character and her plotline, but it it would be stretching to say that she is textual queer representation. But there’s still a lot to talk about.

13 Sentinels is a game that deals in all variations of relationships; familiar, platonic and romantic, and it’s great that it included queer representation into the text like it did. Hijiyama and Okino gave us a romantic queer relationship, twice, and Iori gives us a Bi-Sexual character who while not in a relationship with a woman is still queer. And that’s always good representation.

[kitkatopinions]

honestly in my personal opinion, the weirdness around crwby's handling of queer characters comes back to their core sentiment of "queer people have to earn their rep," which was said by monty iirc. which is just an incredibly outdated & homophobic opinion anyways because like you pointed out in your ask, the heteronormative relationships didn't have to earn their existence. characters are assumed cishet by default, they're seen as the Standard & therefore don't have to earn their place.

queer characters & queer romances go against that heteronormative standard & have to be "earned" in the eyes of mostly cishet creators. kiersi is queer but well, she's not a point in the right direction for mkek considering her writing of nonbinary & asexual people.

it's even more disappointing to see this parroted by queer people in the fndm, that mkek are right, that we have to wait when ... why? cishets didn't have to wait for three separate heteronormative relationships in tandem.

Hey, sorry this has taken me so long to answer. My blood has been boiling over 'queer people have to earn their rep.' What a homophobic sentiment... and honestly, that really makes me think that Bumbleby was not planned from the beginning. Which of course isn't to say that MK was wrong to go with BB, but it's certainly annoying that people involved in the project are claiming it's been planned when the creator of the show was of the belief that 'queer rep has to be earned.'

Like... How? Someone please tell me how LGBTQ+ people can earn representation in media when I can't think of very many pieces of media (especially popular media) that doesn't display at least one opposite-sex relationship. I just looked through the collection of movies myself and my sisters have on our shelves, and outside of a couple of movies I don't know, every movie on our shelf but two depict opposite sex relationships (the two that don't btw are Bolt and Kung Fu Panda 1, which both include single parents, but no depiction of romantic relationships at all iirc.) I defy anyone to list one cartoon Disney movie that doesn't include a straight ship (even if it's just married parents.) How are queer people supposed to earn their fucking representation? Why are queer people thrown scraps and then told to shut up and stop complaining?

There's explicit bias in company's even like RT, who depict same-sex people, but always do it in comfortable ways or always in only small ways or always in hints. It's still homophobia, especially when it's very clear that their lack of inclusion isn't about the media just not being about any sort of romance (like Bolt or Kung Fu Panda 1 could say,) because they have relationships featured, just never LGBTQ+ relationships. RT has no problems forcing a love triangle between Jaune, Weiss, and Neptune despite none of that being believable or developed. RT has no problem introducing Sun with romantic theming for him and Blake, having them go on an explicit date, having Pyrrha in love with Jaune for who knows what reason and kissing him right before a tense fight scene to further the plot and freaking dying. RT has no problem with having 'boyfriend meets girlfriend's over protective and unnecessarily rude dad' esque jokes shoehorned into volumes 4 and 5 when it comes to Sun and Blake, or having Nora and Ren kiss in the middle of a high-stakes political rally right before a bunch of murders happen. RT has no problems making Ironwood flirt with Glynda in his first introduction, making Qrow talk about "the size of the waitress's skirt length" in like, his third scene, making Roman flirt with Cinder, making even characters like Penny and Ruby who have story plots that have nothing to do with romance or relationships talk about 'cute boys' at least once. Straight people get rep at every single turn, and yet gay people have to earn even an acknowledgement, even a passing comment.

What it is to me, really, is 'queer people have to prove we can get a profit out of their rep.' That's all I'm hearing. 'We're not ever going to do this because it's the right thing to do, we'll only do it if the pros of the money we can squeeze out of you outweigh the marketing risk of alienating homophobes who will turn off our show.' 'We'll only depict what we know is still comfortable to the casually homophobic viewers who are fine with a dash of gay here and there to appease people without 'forcing it down their throats,' or who are comfortable with seeing gay girls since that's been fetishized for straight men, but wouldn't be comfortable seeing gay men because they consider it a threat to their masculinity.' That's what I'm hearing.

It makes it even more annoying when I see fans talking about 'we should be grateful for the beautiful rep RT has given us.' NO THANKS. I'm not going to be grateful for the fact that MKEK are trying to queerbait me and other LGBTQ+ people into shutting up about the 'bmblb' song and Clover's death by trying to make us buy their fucking jackets and convincing us that Blake and Yang are already confirmed. I'm so sorry to get so heated over this. XD I'd thought I was calm, but this 'earn your rep' thing has gotten me so steamed. When have straight people ever been asked for the same? There are content creators fighting tooth and nail to be able to depict same sex relationships in their shows on bigger networks, and it really seems so very brazen of MKEK to still be holding back on confirming Blake and Yang and trying to convince us they're still champions of the LGBTQ+ community and our friends, and are selling pride merch with our favorite *non-confirmed* girls on it.

Adding onto that, the only rep we've officially gotten is girls. Ilia, Saffron and Terra, and May. And then heavily hinted Blake and Yang. The closest we've gotten for representation for men is Clover (a wink, a couple lingering looks, tweets suggesting he and Qrow will be together, only for him to be murdered,) and this picture.

This freaking nothing picture of two nameless guys with a heart shaped plant in the background of one shot in Mistral. Like, don't get me wrong, I'd like to know more about this unfashionable couple, and I'd like to know if one of them has a semblance that lets them control plants or if the heart-plant is decorative and was a gift from Sandy Hair over there... But my point is, no one should have to latch onto two rando background nameless punks and their fucking plant to be able to see themselves in media. This isn't representation for men in the LGBTQ+ community. It's honestly just tiring. I don't think I'm asking for too much to say that if companies are going to advertise 'pride,' that they commit to actually representing queer people and not just through the lens of what's comfortable to their homophobic or heteronormative audience members. May was a step in the right direction and I know that there are a lot of trans people who felt really validated seeing her in action and as a more important character during this last arc, and that the way that MKEK handled the in-universe confirmation of her being trans was respectful and well done. That's great. But it's 2021, if they're going to post 'pride merch' and claim to be for us and that they're trying to be inclusive, they need to stop queerbaiting Blake and Yang, and they also need to step out of the comfort zone of only portraying women on the LGBTQ+ spectrum. Male LGBTQ+ and non-binary and genderfluid people ought to be able to get representation too.

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 5

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

+ Minors DNI 

previous | part | next 

My lids felt heavy as I struggled to open my eyes to the bright room. The furniture in Hitoshi’s room becoming clear as my vision cleared, and I could take in all my surroundings. A very silent and stoic Mr Aizawa standing by the door, arms crossed, his face unreadable. I pulled the blankets up, becoming aware that I currently only had one of Hitoshi’s shirts on over my underwear. Something I was comfortable showing Hitoshi, but not so much the Erasure Hero.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice deep and even though I knew he wasn’t accusing me of anything I still felt like I was in trouble. Guilt still seemed to be the only emotion I could manage.

“I feel fine. I didn’t have much to drink at all last night.” I answered, trying to laugh off his question.

“Even though I’m not thrilled about the underage drinking, I think you know that isn’t what I meant.”

I knew what he meant, my head dropping to my bare thighs where I fidgeted with the hem of the shirt. Memories of last night came flooding back and I couldn’t help but cringe at the feeling. The feeling of being overwhelmed with all those emotions, feeling things that I wasn’t meant to be feeling.

“I- um, I’ve got it under control now, I’m sorry about what happened last night. I should have um- I- It’s all my fault.” I barely got out before a tear ran down my face.

“Y/N. What happened wasn’t your fault, you and Sen are both almost adults and weren’t doing anything wrong. I think there was just too much alcohol and not enough communication which was the cause of the outburst. Don’t blame yourself for the actions of others.” Mr Aizawa said lowly, walking over and sitting on the desk chair across from me. Despite his gruff exterior, he was one of the most noble men you had ever met. Also, one of the best heroes.

“Um, did… Todoroki. Is he okay?” I asked, heat rising up my neck and making its way across my cheeks. My body betraying me and my intentions of trying to come across cool, calm and collected.

“He went to shower; he didn’t leave you at all last night. I’m sure it was quite cozy with all 3 of you in here last night.” Aizawa stated, standing, and making his way over to the door. He stayed? Why? What could Shoto Todoroki gain from laying on the ground like a dog and guarding me? Was he worried that I was going to have another meltdown and his ice would be able to help?

“Put on some pants, come downstairs. Everyone was worried about you, and they made breakfast.”

“I have to go finish some paperwork because Bakugo and Denki decided to defend you honour last night. Noble but stupid.”

My eyes widened; they really did that for me? I wanted to smile but thought it best to wait before the teacher was out of the room.

When the door clicked, I jumped up and found some spare clothes that I kept here. A pair of leggings that covered my bare thighs and a sweatshirt that added warmth to my cold body. I thought it best to have a quick look at my appearance before leaving the room and scaring any students. Knowing that sometimes my hair could be exceptionally large and in charge. Pleasantly surprised that someone, I would guess Hitoshi had taken off my makeup, and left a thick hair tie on the corner of the mirror, the tie perfect for restraining the small afro that had started to form on my head.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I left the room and headed to the direction of Todoroki’s dorm, wanting to thank him for all his help. My body moving before my mind could decide this might be the worst decision I had ever made.

                                                            *

The knock on the wooden door seemed to echo throughout the hall. The only noise in the empty hallway.

“It’s fine, just say thank you then leave.” I said to myself. Eyes closed and breathing in heavily. My anxiety through the roof. Caught between wanting to thank Todoroki for all his help but also never wanting to see him again because the last time I did, our faces were inches apart and I was hysterically crying. On the verge of an actual mental breakdown.

“Leave? You only just got here.” The voice shocking me out of my thoughts. My fidgeting hands stopping by my sides and going completely still. Maybe if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice me, and I could make a quick escape I thought to myself. My eyes still looking down at my feet, seeing Todoroki’s bare feet opposite mine.

“I hope you don’t think that if you stand still, I won’t see you.”

Feeling defeated, I looked up slowly. Taking in the sight before me. There was Shoto Todoroki, still dripping wet from the shower, towel hung low on his hips. Almost everything on full display. His whole body was toned and clearly built to be a Pro Hero. I didn’t think I had seen anything so sexy. The muscles of his body clearly from all the years of training.

“I- um. Thanks.” I choked out, trying to keep still, my eyes travelling up and down his body. Wanting to take it all in, knowing that I’d never be seeing this again.

“I told you I could see you naked.” I said quietly, recalling the conversation we had in my workshop. Wanting to relieve some tension. A hearty chuckle leaving his lips and reaching my ears.

“Do you want me to drop the towel? Technically I’m not fully naked yet.” He said back, voice flirty and lighthearted.  For a second you forgot the awkwardness you were feeling moments ago and laughed. His hand coming out and resting on your elbow.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the mood shifting again, becoming serious. His hands still firmly on me, warm to the touch. I hardly knew him, but he was comforting, his presence very quickly becoming one you didn’t know if you could live without.

He was charming, funny, smart and dedicated. All facts you had learned from him being in your workshop every afternoon for the past week. Both of you learning about each other, casually flirting and making jokes with each other. He had definitely come along was from the little first year who thought that if he smiled people would die.

“Thank you, seriously. I’m glad you were there.” I said honestly. Not sure what would have happened if he didn’t find me and help me get a hold of my quirk. The thought of feeling all those emotions for any longer making your stomach drop and fill with dread.

“You also didn’t have to stay with me last night, I know those cots aren’t too comfy.” I said, playing with a stray curl that had fallen out of the tie awkwardly. You felt bad for him really, you knew how small and not suited for someone so tall and broad they were.

“I wanted you in my room but Shinso took you off me. I didn’t want to let you go.” He admitted lowly, dropping his head and bringing it down next to my ear. His breath warm on the side of my face. My cheeks heating up, stepping back and out of his grip.

He looked sincere, his eyes honest as I looked into them, but I couldn’t fall for it. I wanted to believe him but deep down I knew how people really were. I knew that I couldn’t let anyone else in.

My friendship quota full, no matter how wet and handsome they currently looked standing before me.

“I’m going to wear you down Y/N.” He almost whispered, stepping out of his room to make up the space I made between us. His body pressed flushed against mine, the water from his torso wetting the material of my sweater. His hand came out and played with the bottom of the sweater, toying with the material between his fingers.

“Wear me down? Don’t say it like it’s so easy.” I admitted, looking up but not moving back. Our bodies, still pressed up against each other.

“I like a challenge.”

“I’m nothing like any of the villains you’ve face before.”

“I’m excited to find out just how different you are.” He said lowly, small smile on his face as his hand shifted under the sweater and rested on my waist, his other hand coming up and resting on my cheek. Holding me in place.

“I can feel it, this wall you have put up. From a past heart break or family drama, doesn’t matter. I’ll learn soon enough. Just know that I’m going to break it down and you are going to want to be with me just as badly as I want to be with you.” He stated so surely, his mouth inching closer to mine, his breath fanning my face. Stopping short of our lips touching, Todoroki shifting and kiss the corner of my mouth, right on the cheek.  

“We should go get some breakfast. Give me a minute.”

Without another word Todoroki turned and went back into his dorm, closing the door slightly to get changed. No, evidence on his face about what had just happened, or almost happened. Definitely the opposite of me who was beyond flustered, cheeks red and a little turned on.

                                                              *

The common room and kitchen looked different from when I saw it last. The couches were pushed back together, no empty bottles littered the floor and the space was completely bare of drunk teenagers unlike how it was when I left last night.

“Girl… so how are you feeling?” Mina asked, sitting next to me scooping food onto my plate.

“I have never been better; I feel so good about everything in my life right now. So balanced.” I said, looking over at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Sarcasm isn’t real humor extra. If you feel like shit you should just say it!” Bakugo said from the other side of me, nudging me with his arm. I had already thanked him for last night, feeling honored that he would stick up for me like that whereas Denki’s thanks would have to wait until he decided to emerge from his room.

“You have no reason to feel shit by the way. He is a fuck. He deserved the punch he got.”

“Not that I don’t agree with you, but I definitely think I should be held accountable for some of it. I mean he wouldn’t have acted like that if we weren’t sleeping together.” I stated, shrugging my shoulders and scooping food into my mouth.

“Just because you guys had sex doesn’t mean he can touch or talk to you like how he did. Once a dickhead always a dickhead.” Bakugo said back, sipping his tea.

You had to agree, the situation you were in last night had scared you. Watching Sen act like that startled you and reminded you that anyone was capable of anything under certain conditions. Before you could reply two large hands came down on your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Morning Y/N, sorry about last night. Sorry I couldn’t be there to help.” Kiri said sadly, concern clear in his tone.

“Where were you last night shitty hair?!” Bakugo yelled.

“I was with um Aiko… and Kameko and um whatever her twin sister’s name is.” Kiri said nonchalantly, scratching the back of his neck and sitting down in one of the spare seats at the table. I almost choked on my coffee, the fact that Eijiro Kirishima was casually talking about having a foursome over breakfast blowing my mind.

“Dude, you are my hero.” Mineta said, practically drooling as he looked at the red head.

“How do you even make that happen? What do you say?” Mineta asked.

“I do this thing called um respecting women and being a top guy. Something you clearly haven’t grasped.” Kiri said, slapping Mineta’s hand away that was held out for a high five. Bakugo chuckled to himself, turning back to his food as Mineta still probed Kiri for details. Which the latter absolutely didn’t divulge.

The mood felt nice. Comfortable. I was grateful to call these people my friends and know that we could talk and be like this together. As I looked around I didn’t miss Todoroki who kept his eyes firmly on me, which he seemed to be making a habit of and Momo, who had her eyes fixed on him

[fantasia-monogram]

As the clock strikes midnight, part 2

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ NSFW (~1.7k words); a lot of sex talk and kink negotiation. Mentions of BDSM and kink. No one is 100% straight. Mentions of queerphobia.

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you. Please read part 1 before this!

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Your impromptu get-together had been going for over two hours already, and you’d loved every minute of it so far. Your motivation had been mostly spending some time with Taeyang away from the workplace, but you had to admit: your other companion’s intentions towards you weren’t clear either. You enjoyed the mystery of it all, even though it was the youngest of your trio that you had your eyes on ever since the training period started.

Well, the mystery would end there, or so you thought.

“I can’t believe I put myself in a drama-like setting, but,” Jaeyoon started, clearly down out of sudden, “That guy reviewing our results… What was his name? Inseong… I might have a bit of a crush on him.”

You stopped in the middle of bringing a cup to your lips, letting your hand holding the latte hang awkwardly in the air. With the corner of your eye, you could see Taeyang doing the same.

“Come on, don’t tell me that you’re…” Jaeyoon whined, shaking his head.

“No, hear me out,” you interrupted. Before you spoke again, you cautiously looked left and right to make sure no one else was listening. Only then, you continued with a hushed voice. “You know, it drives me crazy whenever they call me a she in those international reports. I’m non-binary, I prefer neutral pronouns. I don’t really have to worry about it on a daily basis, until English rolls in and makes me cringe.”

Your friend leaned closer to you.

“Not like I didn’t notice,” he concluded. A wide grin was back on his face. “Do you like boys, though?”

You could tell he was just joking, given his usual flirty attitude, and you didn’t have to answer at all. However, since you started confessing already, you figured you could take it seriously.

“I do, actually!” You nodded, smiling lightly.

You couldn’t believe you could talk about it openly like that.

“Oh, I don’t discriminate, I fuck everybody,” Jaeyoon replied in a seemingly playful tone, although being serious as well, “But right now? My heart belongs to the Quality Department leader.” He finished with a hand on his chest.

You both laughed wholeheartedly, until you noticed Taeyang was silent this entire time. Jaeyoon turned his eyes towards him, with you following shortly.

“What about you?” Jaeyoon asked boldly.

A look of slight panic flashed through Taeyang’s face, and you’d think it’s adorable if not for the crushing possibility of him having objections towards who you were - now that he knew, it could have changed anything.

You really didn’t want to have your heart broken after mere four weeks since starting a new job.

“I… I like g…” Taeyang stuttered, his gaze briefly catching yours. He held tight onto his cup of coffee and looked away, blushing profusely. “People with vaginas.”

“No way!” Jaeyoon exclaimed. Fortunately, he remembered the topic of your conversation and immediately toned it back down. “I’m sorry, I’d have never clocked you as straight.”

“Hey, stop it!” You smacked his bicep, earning an exaggerated wince from him.

Taeyang rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s fine,” he stated, putting on a regretful expression. “I get that a lot. I tried everything, but that’s my final verdict for now.”

Jaeyoon kept making inappropriate jokes despite your earlier protest, but you would be lying if you said you were listening to him. Your eyes were glued on Taeyang, even though he was way too busy deflecting your other friend’s silly remarks to pay attention to you.

*

It wasn't the first time Jaeyoon and Taeyang have visited your place; they've been there numerous times before, together and separately. 

It was the first time, however, when they entered the apartment with all three of you feeling equally horny and not even trying to hide it. 

It couldn't have been caused by the alcohol, because you haven't had any, Taeyang only had a couple sugary drinks, and Jaeyoon got completely sober as soon as the words fun night were mentioned. Nothing had been explicitly stated, but all of you - always having been open not just about your sexual identity and orientation, but also your specific attitudes towards sex in general - have reached an unspoken agreement: everyone was getting off tonight, this way or another.

You quickly decided to take turns using the bathroom. When it was Jaeyoon's turn to shower, you were left alone with Taeyang. It was a bit awkward at first, considering his confession from earlier that you barely replied to. As soon as he sat on a sofa in the living room - smelling clean, fresh glow on his face - you took a place beside him, wearing your black satin pajamas already.

Taeyang leaned back and smiled at you blissfully. Only then, he took your hand in his; after holding it for a good minute, he intertwined your fingers.

"I'm so happy," he whispered. 

You really wished to answer in a coherent way, yet you couldn't possibly focus enough to be your usual, collected self - not when you finally had your long-time crush next to you, shirtless, lightly toned muscles and sharp outline of ribs on display.

Maybe you didn't want to shock him by showing this side of yourself so easily, but it was impossible at this point; your prettiest, prettiest boy was here, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the entire universe, making your heart swell with love and desire just by that. 

Not used to being so overwhelmed with emotions, you just stared back at him wide-eyed.

"Sheesh, don't tell me you started without me!" 

Jaeyoon appeared in the doorway, hair still wet and adorably curled without usual styling - a contrast to his impressive physique in nearly full glory since he, as opposed to the more reserved Taeyang, decided to step out of the bathroom wearing only boxer briefs. 

It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before, as you'd go to the pool together many times over the past few years (Taeyang always refused the invitation, even though he claimed to be a pro at swimming and even bragged about gold and silver medals he won in national competitions during high school). Yet somehow, this time, the sight hit differently, since you knew what was about to happen. 

"No way," you chuckled; Taeyang let go of your hand, which made your mood deflate a little. "Mind if we eat something first?" 

Everyone was starving after the boring company party, so you all moved to the kitchen. You couldn't hide your amusement over how the apartment looked like a dollhouse when trying to contain not just you, but also two grown men. You gave up on relationships ages ago, so when looking for a place to rent, you had only your own comfort in mind.

"Okay, first of all," you started when everyone was finished with their meal, "Are we all safe? While I was still in the dating game, I was always monogamous and did regular checkups. I haven't had any partners for the past four years." 

You cringed internally saying it out loud, but transparency was your number one priority. 

"I never do anything without a condom," Jaeyoon stated. 

As usual, Taeyang took a while before taking part in risky conversations.

"I do BDSM, but it hardly ever involved actual sex." 

"I can confirm that." Jaeyoon smiled smugly, propping his chin on his hand. 

Your eyes went comically wide at the implication. 

"Wait, what did I miss?! I thought you liked, in your words, people with vaginas?" You gasped, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

Taeyang's face turned equally red, except he decided to cover it with his hand. 

"Y/n, dear, he said that three and a half years ago," your friend explained. 

"Jaeyoon hyung had his part in my awakening as a submissive," Taeyang added, finally daring to look at you, "There was nothing sexual about it." 

"Except for the fact I watched you jerk off," the hyung in question clarified. 

"HEY!" The other guy got flushed again. 

You swallowed heavily, feeling your throat get dry all of sudden. Oh my God. You could barely sit still at this point. 

"We both like to watch," Jaeyoon concluded casually. 

"So… Wait a minute," you picked up, your head spinning from the information overload, "If I understand it correctly: Taeyang, you're a sub. Jaeyoon, we're both Doms."

The guys nodded in unison. 

"We're all into voyeurism."

Again, they confirmed with a single nod. 

"I can't believe. This is too good to be true," you said weakly, shaking your head with disbelief. 

"I have an idea," the older of your colleagues continued, "I don't wanna get too much inbetween you two."

Suddenly, Taeyang squeezed your hand under the table in a way that was borderline possessive. 

"But since it's supposed to be enjoyable for all of us… I could get a bit touchy with Y/n… I suppose watching us would be enough to get Taeyangie ready, am I right?" 

Taeyang looked to the side, his expression serious, but his body language unable to hide the excitement. 

"Humiliate me a little and I'll be fine," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed your hand even harder. You smiled at the feeling. 

"I have one request for you," you turned to Jaeyoon, "No kissing on the lips, no hands in each other's underwear."

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged.

"You sure?" Taeyang asked. 

"No worries, just focus on yourself," the older guy chuckled, "I'll take care of myself while watching you two have fun." 

Was it happening for real? You felt like you were dreaming.

Taeyang brought you back to reality by bringing your linked hands to rest on his thigh. 

"Do we… go all the way?" He inquired in a shy tone. 

You took your time to inhale and exhale deeply before collecting yourself enough to answer. 

"Yeah, we do."

(to be continued)

[random-thought-depository]

It occurs to me that one relatively sympathetic aspect of these people might be that, their founding population having been abducted as small children and raised by an inhuman monster, they might lack a lot of the stupid prejudices that regular humans in a low-tech setting are likely to have if real history is any guide.

Think about what’s going to happen with that first generation. It sounds to me like the dragon abducts them when they’re very young, the better to brainwash them. The dragon is probably both ignorant of and uninterested in a lot of human culture, it just wants to raise up some dragon-worshipping brainwashed thralls. Which is probably going to be bad in a lot of ways, but it also means the transmission chains of a lot of stupid prejudices get broken. There’s no-one around to tell those kids that darker-skinned people are inferior. There’s no-one around to stigmatize left-handedness and force the left-handed ones to hide being left-handed. There’s no-one around to socialize them into complicated and rigid gender roles and tell them men should be in charge. There’s no-one around to tell them they shouldn’t share a washing bowl with a Cagot. There’s no-one around to tell them some people are Untouchables and karmically deserving of low status and suffering and you should take a ritual bath if one of them touches you. The dragon probably doesn’t even know about half that stuff and doesn’t care about most of the other half. The dragon might actually actively discourage a lot of prejudices like this if they do show up, because they’d interfere with its human stock being efficient thralls (“You’re telling me you want to reduce the military effectiveness and productivity of my dragon cult because you don’t want to share tools with people who have a particular surname? Yeah, no, we’re not doing that; any tool that is not personal property belongs to me and will be used by any of my thralls who is doing work that requires it”).

What happens when these kids reach puberty? The dragon probably wants its dragon cult making babies, so it’s probably going to tell them how baby-making works and make it clear it expects them to make some new thralls for it sooner or later, but as long as the thralls are making approximately the right number of babies and aren’t killing each other it probably won’t care much about the details. So... These people are going to start experiencing attraction to each other and sometimes falling in love with each other, and... Some of them are going to fall in love with people of the same sex, and there’s no-one around to tell them homosexuality is wrong. Some of them are going to fall in love with more than one person, and there’s no-one around to tell them they aren’t allowed to have multiple partners, and there’s no-one around to tell them that people who already have a partner are “taken” and off-limits, and there’s no-one around to tell them that if you’re a man another man having sex with your female partner is a huge deadly insult to your honor. The original write-up talks about dragons selectively breeding their human thralls, so there might be significant reproductive control and coercion happening, but it’s probably pretty orthogonal to the sort that happens in patriarchal societies.

This is simplifying in ways that might paint an over-optimistic picture. Even small children may have picked up some prejudices from the societies they spent their first years in. And some of that stuff might get reinvented. Children often detect and react with hostility to difference even without much or any prompting from adults, and I suspect some prejudices of this sort are ultimately rooted in that sort of reflexive xenophobia. And I think at least a rough “men do more of the fighting and heavy labor, women do more of the child-care and less strength-intensive work” division of labor is probably going to emerge, because it’s a natural and logical reaction to physical sex differences in a low-tech context. Though on that note, I can think of a few factors that might work to keep dragon cults more gender-equal than regular human societies:

Dragons likely won’t want their cults getting too numerous. A numerous cult would be harder to control and more likely to develop power centers independent of the dragon. Dragon cults would also be more secure against external threats than other human groups of their size, because they’ve got a giant fire-breathing monster on their side, so they wouldn’t have as much pressure to make sure they’ve got lots of fighters to defend their land (though the dragon would likely be a “tall poppy,” it’s likely that lots of people will want to kill it to stop its depredations and plunder its hoard and have the glory of defeating it, so that’ll partly cancel that out). Put this together, dragon cults might be at least a little less pro-natalist than their regular human neighbors. I mean, they’ll probably still have big families by modern standards because of how many people die young in low-tech societies, they’ll probably still need to have 3-5 children per couple just for replacement rate, but this might make at least a little difference. And high birth rates, large families, and pro-natalism are an important load-bearing pillar of strong gender roles; it’s not an accident that we started treating women a lot better after we invented or popularized vaccination, antibiotics, indoor plumbing, and birth control pills (the first three things made high birth rates unnecessary and even undesirable, the last thing made low birth rates easier to maintain). Compared to other human women, dragon cult women might have more time and energy to devote to things that aren’t making and raising babies.

I think dragon cults are also likely to be socially hierarchical but economically communalistic, with little private property and relatively high social mobility. From the original write-up it sounds like dragons want totalitarian control over their cults, so they won’t want their cults to have power centers independent of the dragon. Dynastic families and sizeable accumulations of private property are power centers independent of the dragon, so the dragon will discourage their formation. In low-tech male privilege societies powerful families and stable inherited property are major bulwarks of patriarchy; they make it important who your father is, and they make it important to avoid family instability that may result in division of the property or otherwise endanger the family’s claim to the property. If patrilineal descent chains don’t matter much, women are likely to have more sexual freedom and by knock-on effects of that more freedom in general and are under less pressure to marry early and produce lots of potential heirs for their husbands.

Finally, the write-up mentioned dragons selectively breeding their human thralls for size and strength, and maybe implied also selectively breeding them for precocious physical maturity. If they’re doing that, dragons might also selectively breed their thralls for reduced sexual dimorphism. From the dragon’s point of view, why wouldn’t you want to double your pool of potential strong fighters? So after two or twenty centuries of selective breeding dragon cult women might have size and upper body strength a lot closer to males. Dragon cults would probably still have some kind of “men do more of the fighting and women do more of the work compatible with having a baby or child in close proximity” gendered division of labor, but reducing sexual dimorphism would tend to weaken gendered divisions of labor and hence gender roles in general.

I mean, we’re talking about a creepy high-control cult here. And “nobody was there to tell them...” would definitely have potential dark sides, like “nobody was there to tell them rape and incest are wrong” and “nobody was there to tell them that an adult shouldn’t casually slap around or beat up a child when they’re angry at them.” They’d probably develop some taboos on that sort of stuff just to keep their society somewhat functional, and the dragon would probably give them rules against the aspects of that sort of behavior that might lower their efficiency as thralls or endanger the viability of the dragon cult, but “basically functional levels of rape, incest, and casual physical abuse of children” might look pretty horrifying (though given what a lot of actual historical societies looked like I’m not sure they’d really be worse on the rape and casually beating up their children fronts than their non-dragon cult neighbors). So this isn’t going to be any kind of utopia. If dragon cultists showed up in a story they’d probably be bad guys. But, like:

“And because they serve dragons, they sometimes get the good stuff. Picture a 15- year-old kid with the physique of Conan, wearing the golden armor of ancient kings and armed with magic spears. The kid is also illiterate, covered in fleas, and thinks that humans were created by dragons.”

I suggest that this kid might be a girl, who has a girlfriend and a boyfriend, in a world where a female person being a warrior and interacting on a footing of easy familiarity and equality with rough violent men and having multiple partners is very much not a regular thing in most human societies. And while from one point of view this person is a brainwashed slave of a giant fire-breathing mammal-like reptile, she can look forward to having a lot more personal freedom than most non-dragon cult women (e.g. the 15 year old farmer’s daughter whose father and older brother she just eviscerated). Would fit into: “And its not hard fascism either.  Their barbarian tribes don't chafe at the collar.  They've believe in their dragon.  And when you stand in front of a dragon, you can see why.” If that girl has some idea of how much less freedom and power she’d probably have if she’d been born into one of the surrounding more normal human societies, that knowledge surely cements her loyalty to her dragon. It’d make the whole thing more insidious in a way.

-----

Aside: the one thing that kind of bugged me about the Goblin Punch post is where it says dragon cultists “never build cities or roofs.” So what do they do when it rains, or is freezing cold, or burning hot? I’m interpreting this as they live in tent-like structures and don’t build permanent houses with thick walls, cause otherwise that bit is just grimderp.

[cagestark]

The Rest it Kills

About this: ballerina!peter and mobster!tony. Starker. Physical and emotional between established quentin beck/peter parker. 

THIS IS UNFINISHED. Anyone is welcome to continue it. 

-

“FRIDAY, baby? Do you have the shot?”

-

It’s a celebration, which does nothing to explain why the room gets quiet as soon as Tony enters it. Around the table are four of his best and brightest, the handful of underlings that were instrumental in helping Tony execute his vision of how to repay Adrian Toomes for encroaching upon his weapons market. For a job well done, he’d invited them up to the penthouse to have at his expensive collection of spirits. 

He’d left them alone for only a half hour to make a few calls, but now upon his return they were shifty eyed and babbling about something inconsequential, a sure sign that they had hastily changed the subject. 

“Alright,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “Out with it. I’m a paranoid bastard at best. At worst?—well. Ask Toomes.” 

“It’s nothing bad, Tony,” Rogers says. If the fact that Rogers hadn’t told a lie his entire life didn’t put Tony at ease, then his clear eyes and voice did. Rogers was his number two, and they got on thick as thieves. He’s about as likely to lie to Tony as the sun is not to rise.

“Then I’m not angry,” Tony says, taking the empty seat. “But now I’m curious. Which is worse?” 

“Angry,” Wilson says in that deadpan way that Tony just adores. 

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Tony says, finishing his scotch with a single gulp. He pours himself another. 

It’s Romanov who—doesn’t break, per say. Tony isn’t convinced that there’s anything that could break Natasha, though if they were on opposite sides, he might have a few places he’d be willing to start. She must weigh the pros and cons and decide that letting Tony in on their little secret is the best move. Whether it’s best for her, for them, or for someone else, Tony can’t say. 

She shifts and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half and tosses it across the table. Barnes and Rogers groan. 

“Nat, you rat,” Barnes says. 

“Wow,” she says, eyes glittering. “That rhymed, Bucky. It was beautiful.” 

“What the fuck is this?” Tony wonders out loud as he unfolds the paper. It turns out to be nothing extraordinary. It’s a program for the New York City Ballet. The ballet is something new by Ratmansky, with principal dancers MAXIMOFF/PARKER. “Ballet? Taking up a new hobby, Barnes?” 

“I thought I’d look great in the tights,” is all Barnes says. A deflection if Tony’s ever heard one. 

“Their boy toy is the lead,” Romanov admits (to fresh groaning from around the table). 

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Boy toy? All three of you?” 

“We are in the process of wooing him, so to speak,” Wilson admits, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him. “Barnes and Rogers might be willing to tag team him, but I want him all for myself.” 

Rogers’s eyes flash, cold steel in the overhead lights. “Watch the way you’re talking about Peter. He’s not a piece of meat to be shared.” 

“This is a goddamn episode of the Bachelor,” Tony laughs. “Which one is Peter: Maximoff or Parker?” 

“Parker,” all four chime together. 

“I feel like a father whose kids are going out on their first date. Are you buying him flowers? Are you opening the car door for him? Are you being safe?” Tony jests. He leans back in his chair feeling the warm thrum of the scotch in his stomach, glancing from one besotted man to the next.

“All that and more,” Barnes says. Then, with more than a little bitterness: “It’s the way he deserves to be treated.” 

Tony lifts his brows. Natasha slides him the deck of cards so that he can shuffle. He’ll lose, especially once he’s as drunk as he hopes to be, but there’s no amount of money he could lose to them that wouldn’t amount to pocket change in his book. Consider it their bonus. As he deals, he asks, “Trouble in paradise?”

“You could say that,” Wilson mutters. “He’s not exactly on the market.”

“Never took you for a homewrecker, Rogers. Barnes maybe—“

“Hardly a home to wreck,” Barnes admits. “Not a happy one, at least. Pete’s boyfriend is a perverted, abusive low life.”

Tony goes stiff. The buzzing in his gut transfers to his brain, raw as the sizzle of electricity. In his mind, he sees himself as a young boy sitting cross-legged by the vanity in his mother’s room watching her apply creams and powders to disguise Howard’s abuse. All the heinous crimes Tony commits, that one is not among them. He doesn’t prey on the weak. It’s the only promise to his mother that he’s never broken. 

“So, take care of him,” Tony says lowly. “Do you or do you not have certain skills and the balls to use them? You could kill this boyfriend and have it look like a hundred different accidents. What’s the problem here? Do you need daddy’s permission or something? Well, here, I’m giving it.”

Rogers scowls darkly at his hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? Regale me, then! Because it sounds to me like I’m sitting around the table with a bunch of pussies.”

“Peter asked us not to,” Barnes says. 

Tony blinks. “Is—is that it? Good God. Definitely a bunch of pussies. Kill the bastard anyway. If you can’t stomach it; if you don’t want your boy toy mad at you, give me a name and I’ll do it. It can be done before we’re four rounds into poker, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s not like we don’t have the stomach for it,” Wilson says. He’s the newest of their crew, but Tony appreciates his fearlessness, the open, unabashed expression he gives Tony when calling him out on perceived bullshit. “It’s about respect, man. We respect Peter’s wishes, and he trusts us because of it.”

The form of respect Tony is most acquainted with is fear. This softness he sees in his men right now translates to nothing short of weakness. Tony has never lived in a fairytale: the world is hard, and it makes hard people. 

The rest, it kills. 

“It’s complicated,” Rogers says to soothe Tony’s hackles. “If you knew the kid, you’d understand I think.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Barnes mutters. There’s movement underneath the table: one person kicking another, everyone jolting to get their legs out of the way. Barnes looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, or taken a shot of Nat’s imported whiskey. “Now he’s gonna go see Pete for himself and none of us will have a chance.” 

-

As it is, Tony doesn’t have to lift a finger to meet Peter because Peter comes to him. 

-

Tony knows the benefit of giving his men a nice long leash. 

He doesn’t have to. With them living in the Tower, it’s within his rights to keep surveillance on all of them; except he knows that distrust breeds distrust. Wilson, Romanov, Rogers, and Barnes have earned his trust. For that reason alone, he removed the wiretaps and cameras in their rooms upon their arrivals. 

But it’s still his home, and he watches it. Closely. Tony has just poured his third glass of scotch when FRIDAY alerts him that there’s an unauthorized presence in the Tower.

“Unescorted?” Tony asks. His blood thrums—this is the most exciting thing to happen all day. 

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are the ones who granted him entrance using Mr. Roger’s passcode, and they appear to be returning to Mr. Rogers apartment, judging by the floor number selected in the private elevator.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, relaxing back in his chair. “A fuck, baby?” 

Tony has asked them not to entertain guests at the Tower without his authorization, but Tony was young once. He knew the thrill of breaking rules, how good forbidden, casual sex could feel. He wouldn’t put it past Rogers and Barnes to have grown bored, considering they’ve been dicking each other down since they were teens. Just thinking about twenty years of monogamy has his cock shriveling. If they’re just bringing home someone to bend between them and spitroast, Tony’s not going to bother abandoning his scotch. 

“Judging by the young man’s level of inebriation, I would hope not.” 

Groaning, Tony sets his scotch aside. He gives it a mournful glance while he steps into a pair of jeans and straps up. “I’m coming back for you, baby,” he whispers. “Wait for me. Take no other lover. Fuck, I hate wasting my humor on an empty room.” 

“I’m here, boss,” FRI offers. 

Tony rolls his eyes.

-

When he knocks on Steve’s (Steve and Bucky’s apartment, considering how much time Bucky spends there) at fifteen minutes ‘til midnight on a Thursday, he would usually expect a bleary-eyed blonde to crack the door open, a dark apartment the backdrop behind him. Instead, the door opens and light floods out into the hallway. Steve is dressed in his pajamas, that is to say that he’s wearing only a pair of pajama pants that cling to his hipbones for dear fucking life. 

“FRI said there’s someone in my building and they’re drunker than I am. Don’t you know that’s a crime?” Tony asks, leaning against the doorframe. The cock of his hip emphasizes where his gun rests, but Steve’s eyes don’t even flicker to it. 

Nonplussed, Steve just steps aside to give Tony room to enter. 

Slumped on the sofa, bundled underneath a large blanket is a young man. Handsome, his face is a testament to masculinity: cut jaw, straight nose, flat brows and thin lips. The only hint of estrogen is the clear, smooth skin that looks like he’s never grown facial hair in his life. Right away, Tony places his bets that he knows who this kid is.

Peter Parker is resplendent, large brown eyes that blink sluggishly, dragging all over Tony’s figure like his eyes can’t decide where to rest. Sitting up, the blanket falls away and reveals his naked chest which Tony eyes with appreciation. He has the optimal figure for a ballerino, obvious strength that is lean and not bulky. 

One of the thin lips is split, bruise blooming like the most tender flower beside his mouth. The wound opens when the kid’s mouth falls open. 

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, elbows shaking from lack of strength. He collapses back onto the comfortable couch. “Tony Stark is here.”

Were he not so sobered by the kid’s appearance, the bruises and blood and the red-rimmed eyes and raw mouth, he might be charmed. Bucky appears dressed no more than Steve and Tony, a glass of water in his hand. He helps Peter sit up and coaxes him to drink from the glass. Every other sip, Peter gets distracted, gaping from naked chest to naked chest. At one point, he falls asleep propped up on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“He’s not drunk,” Tony says, standing back with Steve while they watch Bucky try to coax the kid into consciousness. “Drugged?” 

Steve hums. A muscle in his jaw jumps from how he’s grinding it. “It’s not the first time. Beck and Peter have different tastes in the bedroom. Peter has mentioned before that sometimes after their date nights, he wakes up sore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. And you haven’t killed this guy, yet?” 

Steve looks downright tortured. He does it well; Tony’s always thought of him as a bit of a melodramatic. “Peter would never see us again if we did. We have to decide between being around to support and protect him or not being around at all.” 

“If Beck was dead,” Tony says coldly. “There’d be nothing to protect him from.” 

“James,” Peter groans, losing and finding purpose again during the middle of the word. “Tony Stark is here!” 

“In the flesh, kid,” Tony says, stepping forward. Peter’s eyes trace down Tony’s chest, tracing the matting of scars over his sternum before dipping over his abs (nowhere near as pronounced as Barnes or Rogers’s, but Tony does alright). The kid licks his lips. He can’t help but preen a little, winking at Bucky who is rolling his eyes. “

The curiosity has been planted like a seed deep inside Tony’s mind. It sprouts, soaking up thoughts until it’s the only thing he can think about, Peter Parker, principal dancer, owner of three of his best-men’s hearts. 

It leads Tony here, to the best seats money can’t even buy at the Lincoln Center in Manhattan, dressed in his best tuxedo, dark eyes focused on the curtain that glows gold. His heart pounds when it withdraws on a dark, empty stage, though he hardly knows why. 

By the end, he has a better idea. 

There’s no hiding a single sharp line or sensual curve in the outfits they wear onstage, the pale tights and leotards. There is nothing soft about him save for his curls, but still he leaps and lands silent on his canvas-clad feet. The dance is obviously based around Maximoff’s character with Peter there as her supporting love interest, but even when the red-head bewitches the audience with her fouettés, Tony can’t take his eyes off of Peter’s figure, bowed at the edge of the stage and watching her with the sweetest supplication. When it is time for his own variation, he leaps and bows with a boneless grace that does more than take Tony’s breath away. It makes him hard. It makes him think about those long, strong legs wrapped around his waist while he gives the boy his cock. It makes him think about peeling those tights off and wrapping them around the dainty, pale wrists. It’s a good thing no one can see his erection behind the wall of his box seat when they all stand to give their ovation. 

Peter bows and flushes, hand in hand with Maximoff before standing behind her sweetly while the entire place howls for her. 

Tony thinks that maybe he’s starting to understand. 

-

No one bothers him where he leans against the wall beside Peter’s dressing room door. Whether it is his reputation or his thunderous expression, he knows not, but he’s grateful for the lack of distractions while he eavesdrops on the conversation taking place inside the dressing room between Peter and a man Peter calls Quent. 

—work harder in the gym. Have you been tracking your calories on the app we downloaded together? 

Yes, Quent, Peter mumbles, barely audible through the walls. 

All of them? 

I said yes.

Don’t get defensive, babe. I had three different audience members come to talk to me about your figure tonight. It pisses me off too! If you’re ready to leave the industry—

You know I’m not.

Quentin sighs, the long-suffering sigh of an argument that has been often visited. I know. This is your dream. Poor baby. It must be so tough, loving a job that hurts you so much. But I’m so proud of you for pushing through, Peter, you know that, right? I just wish you were a little more grateful to me for trying to keep you on the right track. You treat me like the bad guy.

Peter doesn’t respond. 

Is there anything you need before I go? How’s your back feeling? Your lifts looked a little strained towards the end.

Feels okay. I’ve got everything I need back at my apartment. I’ll go home and put my feet up. 

You deserve it. Just don’t forget to use that app okay? There’s a rustle, a struggle, maybe Peter trying to pull away. But Tony’s always had an overactive imagination. Hey. Don’t be like that. I love you. 

You too.

Peter. Say it right. 

Tony slips away from the door before Quentin can come out. From his place around the corner, Tony still has decent vantage to put eyes on this man for himself. Average height, average weight. Fit enough—for a civilian. Tony’s hands positively ache for a gun. Though he’s carrying, he’s no fool. Now isn’t the time, nor the place.

Once he’s sure the man is gone and not returning, Tony makes his way back to the door. It’s time to meet this young talent from Queens (yeah, Tony read the brochure) for himself. But when Tony goes to lift his hand to knock, the door swings open.

Peter blinks in surprise. He’s dressed in gray leggings that look soft as cashmere, a NYDC hoodie on, sneakers on his feet. Spilling from the sneakers’ tops are black fuzzy socks, meant to keep his toes warm from the cold New York weather. 

He’s limping. 

And gaping. It never gets old, seeing the way his reputation precedes him. He loves the way the crowds part for him on the street, loves the way waiters and waitresses stammer and struggle to serve him, the way eyes grow wide like Tony is a god in the flesh. 

Tony extends a hand. “I’m Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you; you’re a very talented dancer.” 

“Hi,” Peter breathes, taking Tony’s hand. Tony grips gently, feeling like he’s liable to break bones, the kid’s so fucking delicate. And cold. But Tony knows the saying: cold hands, warm heart. He wonders what that makes him. Peter works to regain himself, saying, “Trust me, I know who you are. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you—they didn’t tell me that anyone important was going to be in the audience.” 

“They who?” Tony asks. “Your managers, or my men?” 

Peter swallows, face draining of blood. As much as Tony likes these games, they aren’t as enjoyable when the worm on his hook is as pretty and polite as Peter is. He puts on his most charming (softest) smile and makes sure to ask, gesturing to the messy dressing room behind him, may I come in?

Nodding, Peter opens the door wider. They both ignore how he was clearly on his way out, a backpack in his hands. He sits it down carefully by the vanity where he applied his stage makeup and seats himself on the chair, nudging his shoes off. When he stretches the arches of his feet, he winces. Tony gives him a moment to settle, stepping around the tiny room and taking in the smells and sights. On one wall is a picture of Peter and Quentin, arms around each other, beaming. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice quiet. Tony glances over at him. “Are your—men in trouble?” 

“No,” Tony admits. “If they were, I certainly wouldn’t be here watching ballet; I’d be...busy.” 

Peter sags in relief. The way his shoulders hunch throw his collar bones into sharp prominence where they peek out from the neck of his sweatshirt. “Oh thank God. They’re so nice, Mr. Stark, and I promise they don’t tell me anything about their—your work. James still insists that he works for some guy named Potts in New Jersey. Who’s Tony Stank, he asked me when I brought you up.” 

Tony lets his lips twitch. “James’s middle name is Buchanan. Some call him Bucky. Tell him I said: now we’re even.” 

Peter grins and it’s radiant. Tony feels an unsteadiness in his gut, like missing a step on the stairs or hearing a gunshot go off when he’s not been the one to pull the trigger. There’s just the gentlest stirring of jealousy when Peter mouths the name, Bucky, testing the way it tastes and wrinkling his nose in laughter. 

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Peter says. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” 

Now might be the time to offer to let the kid use his given name but—Tony’s kind of into it. A few more instances of Mr. Stark rolling off that polished tongue might have Tony hardening in his tux. “Take a picture for me,” Tony suggests, sitting down on the cozy loveseat that is opposite of Peter’s vanity. 

“You said—you enjoyed the show?” Peter asks, demure. The sleeves of his sweatshirt pass his wrists and most of his palms, turning his hands into adorable little sweater-paws. When he reaches up to bite at a nail, the sleeve slips down past his tiny wrist. Tony could surely wrap an entire hand around that wrist and have more to spare. 

“It was incredible,” Tony admits. “I don’t usually have the attention span to sit through longer shows, but I was hooked from curtain rise to curtain fall, kid.” 

Peter flushes, not so much in embarrassment as he does from the pleasure of being complimented. The flush of the drunk, though it seems Peter’s poison of choice is praise. Tony can’t help but want to spread him out on the sheets in his bedroom and say the sweetest, filthiest things to see if he can get the kid hard with just his voice. “I’m so glad. There hasn’t been as much press; new shows are always a little slow to take off. Wanda really is something special, though. She spent a season overseas and came back with so much more grace and growth—” 

“Did she do well tonight?” Tony asks, unbuttoning the top button on his jacket to reveal the trim waist and vest beneath. He realizes what he’s doing just as the words are coming out of his mouth. Tony is flirting with Peter, and his flirtation is a force of nature. “I barely noticed her. Couldn’t take my eyes off of you, kid. How the hell you manage to dance that way, I can’t fathom.” 

Now the flush hints at being flustered. He soaks in the way Peter’s face darkens, the way he hides behind one of his hands as the praise makes his posture go soft and waxy. His voice is remarkably even when he says, “Lots and lots of practice.” 

“Your hard work pays off. I was captivated. I could tell that my men were the same.” 

That topic sobers Peter, who sits up straighter. His pretty face twists, the question mark clear, the confusion too genuine for Tony to take it disrespectfully. On the contrary, Tony finds his forthrightness attractive when he asks, “Why did you come tonight, Mr. Stark?” 

“I came to see what it was about you that has my men so enthralled,” Tony admits. With the kind of power he has comes the freedom to be honest, even painfully, brutally  honest, because repercussions are either minimal or nonexistent. 

“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks. Tony can’t help but feel like the kid is asking him for the both of them: what is it so special about me? Yes, this boy is fragile. That can’t be overlooked. But inside of him there’s still a spark of spirit ready to alight at any moment, grateful for any tinder that it’s given. He’s not Maria Stark. Not yet. 

“Yes,” Tony says, standing. He rebuttons his jacket. “And I’d like very much to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable.” 

“Me?” Peter’s head cocks, squinting up at Tony like he’s trying to see through him, to see what is really being said. “Why?”

Tony is used to letting his baser instincts guide him. He fucks who he wants, goes where he wants, says what he wants, and he owes no one alive an explanation for it. Many people have stopped asking Tony questions like why? Certainly none of Toomes’s men asked Tony why when he was torturing them forty-eight hours ago. 

“Because I want to,” Tony says. He reaches down and picks up Peter’s backpack, putting it over his shoulder, the canvas bag downright gauche against his Givenchy tuxedo. “So what do you say, kid? You look dead on your feet, but would you like to be dead on your feet somewhere more private?” 

Peter takes a long moment to think about it before tucking his toes into his shoes. 

-

He belongs there amongst the backdrop of Tony’s penthouse. Peter glances around with all the coltish wonder of a newborn, running his fingers across the genuine leather of the sofa, leaning forward to look at the smart-glass table that Tony likes to prop his feet up on at night. Upon entering, Tony removes his tuxedo jacket and takes Peter’s hastily-removed sweatshirt. He appreciates the four inches of skin that appear when his shirt rides up, sticking to his outerwear. 

He doesn’t appreciate the yellowing bruises dotting the kid’s biceps. Fingertips, he knows. His mother wore them round her neck like pearls. 

“Is it okay if I take my shoes off?” Peter asks. He limped from the theater to the car, from the car to the elevator, and from the elevator to the couch where he collapsed with a sigh of relief. When Tony encourages him to, Peter nudges off his comfortable shoes and brings one foot up into his lap where he firmly presses his knuckles into the sole. 

Peter asks for a drink. Tony gives him access to his wine, and the kid chooses for himself: a red, Chateau Margaux that smells of rose petals and hints at citrus and turns Peter’s cheeks pink. He doesn’t ask for a second glass, and Tony doesn’t offer it; the last thing he wants is the kid to think that Tony invited him here to take advantage of him.

“Tell me,” Tony asks, watching with rapt attention the faces Peter makes, like he’s dancing on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. “Tell me how you met my men. They aren’t exactly patrons of the arts.” 

Peter’s face smoothes and he smiles. “It was Natalie, actually. She comes to shows every so often; I think her and one of the instructors know each other. Sometimes, she sponsors promising dancers.” 

Romanov. Her and this instructor must truly know each other for her to be using a cover name around them. He files all this away in the darkest parts of his mind, should she ever become a problem someday. Tony has places reserved in his brain for all of his closest allies; already, he is making one for Peter too. Trust is earned but ever ephemeral. 

“So Nat introduced you?” 

“Yes. She sponsored me for a while, so we got to know each other pretty well. Once I mixed up my days and showed up at her condo when I wasn’t supposed to, and I met the others. Sometimes they would come to shows or send me gifts backstage.” Peter frowns. “I asked them to stop though because—Quent would just throw them all away.” 

“Quentin Beck.” 

“How’d you know?” 

Tony just smiles and changes the subject. “You must know that the three of my men are half in love with you.” 

Peter groans, pressing both his palms flat to his heated cheeks. “I had a feeling they were...interested. I hope they don’t feel that I’ve led them on, Mr. Stark. Nothing untoward happens at all when we’re together; sometimes I, I meet Steve and James for dinner, or other times Sam comes over to my apartment and we just talk, I promise. They’re so kind and it’s—it’s nice to have people to talk to.” 

Peter stops talking abruptly, mouth open. He lets it fall closed with a click. When Tony prods him gently, he admits, “The attention is nice, too. It feels good, feeling wanted. Does that make me bad?” 

Tony wonders what kind of miserable asshole would have Peter in his bed at night and not show the kid attention. It takes a special fuck-up to come home to a lover like Peter and not make him feel wanted. “Wanting attention? Not at all, kid. It’s the least of what you deserve.” 

“You sound like them,” Peter says, smiling. “James and Steve and Sam. They’re always doing and saying nice things and telling me that I deserve them.” 

“Good,” says Tony, one side of his mouth curling upwards. “I feel like a proud father; I’ve taught them well. Should you have those elevated?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Your feet. Elevation will keep down the swelling.” Tony places one of the expensive throw pillows on his lap and pats it invitingly. Peter stretches out without anymore prompting, toes flexing as his joints pop before curling in. The kid makes for an indecent picture, all long lines, absolutely nothing hidden by the leggings he wears. 

“I asked them if I could meet you, you know,” Peter admits. He’s red from far more than the wine, now, judging by the way he has one hand pressed over his eyes to shield him from Tony’s gaze. As if it’s possible to. Peter peaks through his fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Stark, but I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

A crush. God. Tony doesn’t know what’s more hilarious, the sweet naivete of this boy or how it makes his cold heart flutter. Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so? I’m not exactly crush material for the mentally stable.” 

Peter hums. “When I was a kid, I had a lot of bullies. I started dancing when I was four years old, and not a lot of other boys understood. Sometimes, I used to daydream about you coming to protect me from them. To put them all in their place and then whisk me off to that house you gave a tour of on TV once, the one in Malibu.” 

“Good taste,” Tony says. “You know, I used to do the same thing when I was young. I dreamed about someone coming to protect me and my mother, to take us both away somewhere where no one could ever hurt us.” 

Sitting up on his elbows, Peter fixes Tony with a serious, solemn stare. “Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Is that what happened?” 

“No. I became that someone. What happened to you?” 

“I guess I gave up on the idea,” says Peter.

“Look. Maybe you don’t have your crush on me anymore, but I’m not the kind of man who can look away from innocent human suffering. My men told me about your boyfriend.” Peter sags back onto the couch and puts his face in his hands. He shakes his head from side to side, though no words come out. “This is my offer, kid. Let me take care of the problem. Let me be that knight in shining armor you wanted when you were younger. 

[bubblesuga]

Oblivious To Adoration (m)

Summary: After an intense night of drunken sex, Jungkook realizes he wants more. When he suggests an idea to you, you were shocked. However, who were you to say no to Mr. Jeon Jungkook?

W/C: 3,106

Next Part

Warnings: smut, cussing, unintentional cuteness, a bit of fluff, friends to lovers AU

“All I’m asking is one summer.” Jungkook spoke, his arms gesturing wildly as he followed you through campus. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, rolling your eyes at your best friend who also happened to have the most impeccable talent of getting on your nerves lately. 

“What exactly are you implying?” You raise a brow, watching him struggle to keep up with your pace. You were fast, especially when you didn’t want to be late. 

"You know what I’m implying. Then after that we can go back to acting like nothing happened and move on with our lives as far as... that... goes.” Jungkook gave you a small grin, shy yet sure of himself. 

“As far as what goes?” You knew what he was talking about. He knew you knew as well, but you still wanted to hear him say it.

It started off oddly casual. 

Having both celebrated the end of exam season, you got drunk at Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s apartment. It wasn’t a party or anything, just 8 people sat in a circle getting wasted in an attempt to calm the anxiety that you could have failed all of your tests even though it was unlikely. 

Unfortunately for you, you get extra touchy when you’re drunk. Not that Jungkook minded that you clung to his side at every second of the night, he thought you smelled nice and he enjoyed the feeling of you beside him. Then before you could realize what you were doing or the consequences that could follow, you were leading him to a separate room and having sex. 

To say it wasn’t good would be a lie. It was, from what you could remember, the best sex you had ever had in your entire life. All the way down to the way his fingertips grazed across your tits softly, the already impeccably sensitive nubs responding to his every touch. 

When you woke up the next day, you pretended not to remember any of it. Only gripping your temples and watching him pull himself out of bed to grab you some water and Tylenol. You remembered enough to know that if you continued this path, it could be both detrimental to your friendship and your mind. One time thing, you repeatedly told yourself. 

“Sex, between you and I.” Jungkook said a touch bit too loudly for your liking, causing a few fellow students to turn their head in wonder. He looked around with a blush, “I mean- I’d still want to be friends afterward and all that but we could just think of it as practice.” 

You finally stop your incessant speed-walking, turning to look at him, “You think I need practice?” 

“What? N- no! That’s not what I- ah, sheesh,” He tilts his head in embarrassment and covers his face, rubbing it in frustration, “harmless fun! It’d be some harmless fun for the summer.” 

The truth was, Jungkook couldn’t get you off of his mind after that night. Especially the next morning, watching you stretch in bed and the white sheets slipped off of your torso while you searched around for your bra. He couldn’t wipe the shock from his face at the memories from the previous night racing through his head. It’s not like he hadn’t ever thought about seeing you naked before, or pressing his tongue flat against your burning heat as you writhed beneath him. He just never thought he’d be in a position to actually do so. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you slip your bag off your shoulder and roll your neck as you went over the pros and cons in your head. 

Pros- Jungkook is really good with his mouth, he has a huge dick but doesn’t rely solely on his size to pleasure you, and if you were completely honest with yourself you wouldn’t necessarily mind having a friends with benefits situation with him even if it’s temporarily. 

Cons- Jungkook is your friend, your best friend. He was there when you went through your first break up, and you were there when he had to change majors. There hadn’t been a day that passed where you didn’t talk to him, hug him, thought of him. You had a good thing going with him and you definitely hated the trope of best friends ruining their friendship because of personal needs or wants. 

Jungkook looked down into your eyes, a sense of dread filling him at your silence. He wasn’t sure why he let Jimin talk him into asking you. He knew that there was consequences but Jimin just kept saying “you’re only in your early 20s once!” and “what’s the worst that could happen?” 

Rejection. An ended friendship. Dying of embarrassment. 

The list goes on. 

“End of the summer, we go back to friends minus the benefits,” You spoke up finally, crossing your arms over your chest, “and we don’t tell anyone we’re doing this. This is only for pleasure, right? We don’t need to add the drama of other people’s opinions.” 

Jungkook’s excitement bubbled to the surface, wiping away his previous fear of rejection. You rose an eyebrow at the way he jumped up and down, his back pack bouncing along with his movements. He resisted the urge to pull you in for a kiss, opting instead for a hug. 

“I’ll text you later and we’ll go over logistics,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “I’m excited.” 

“Yeah,” you smile tightly, “me too.” 

~*~*~

The day went by too quickly for your liking. 

It’s not like you weren’t excited for the idea, you were just... scared. Scared of what could happen, scared of how both of you would handle ending it, scared of falling for him. 

Of course you had a crush on him, but it was so small that you swallowed your feelings and opted for being friends with him instead. Besides, it’s not like he’d want to settle down in college anyway. Especially after having seen the way he his door was pretty much revolving with gorgeous women. 

To: (Y/N) From: Kookie Come to my apartment, Tae is out of town. 

You didn’t respond, instead pulling you out of your bed and preparing an overnight bag quickly. You have spent the night with him before, just never with the implication of sex being the main reason. 

Suddenly you were unsure of what to wear. Before you never had to deal with the stress of looking ‘sexy’. You’d show up in your sweats and a T-shirt, beer in one hand and snacks in another. It was completely platonic, even if your mind wandered when Jungkook opened the door in matching grey sweats and no shirt on his torso. 

Deciding it best to dress in some lace lingerie underneath your clothes, you’d leave it hidden for a while until Jungkook was ready for you. Covering your lingerie in a black shirt and black leggings, you grabbed your keys and drove silently to Jungkook’s apartment. 

On the other side of town, Jungkook was burning himself with matches. 

“It’s for the ambiance,” Jungkook spoke, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, “just to make it sexy. Not romantic.” 

Jimin snorted on the other end, “Whatever you say, man. I’m just saying, candles makes it seem like you’re trying to marry her.” 

“What?” Panic freezes the blood in Jungkook’s veins, “n- no! I’m trying to seduce her, not marry her!” 

Staring at his bed, six candles are lit in various places in the room. Peppered suede, a scent that Google says is number 4 on the list of most erotic and relaxing candles to use to get your girl into the mood. He began to think about how stupid it was until Jimin spoke again, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Alright, I respect the attempt.”

“Remember you can’t say anything to her about this-- she doesn’t know it was your idea and doesn’t want anyone knowing.” Jungkook explained hurriedly, wafting the scent of the candles into his nose. 

Jimin chuckled, “Of course, Kookie. My lips are sealed.” 

With that, Jungkook heard a knock at his door and hung up quickly with a quiet goodbye. He rushed towards the front door and quickly adjusts his clothes so he can look somewhat presentable. His hair was still wet from his earlier shower, but he wanted to make sure that he was perfect for you, in every sense of the way. 

With the door swinging open, he took in your appearance carefully. Now that he had seen you- all of you -he wasn’t able to see anything else. He was growing hard just at the thought of seeing you like that again. 

“Hi,” you said, suddenly fully aware of the circumstances. A shy blush spreads across both of your faces as Jungkook’s eyes scanned up and down your body. 

Jokingly, you step inside and spin around, giggling softly as you did so. He grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him, “Did you dress up just for me?” 

“Dress up, huh? Is that what you call this?” You tease, remembering that this was just Jungkook. He was your best friend, there was no need to be so shy about anything especially since you both established boundaries that you know you’ll be sure to follow. 

He didn’t respond, instead locking his lips with yours. 

Jungkook just couldn’t help himself, your lips were so inviting and unbelievably plump. Sucking softly on your bottom lip, he moved his hands down your back and brought them to rest at the base of your spine. Clutching the hem of your shirt in his hands, you allowed yourself to be fully immersed in all things Jungkook. 

Feeling his body slowly guiding you back towards his bedroom, you allowed him to undress you along the way. In the hallway, he drops to his knees in front of you and pulls your leggings down quickly. 

Looking up, he took in your lingerie, the navy blue color complimenting your flushed skin deliciously. He couldn’t help but grin, leaning forward and swiping his tongue on your exposed pelvic bone. You immediately jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair and tugging at the roots. He moved down further, inhaling your scent through your underwear, causing a rush of lust and desire to shoot through your body as he did so. 

“P- please.” you stutter, watching Jungkook pull away with concern lacing his features. 

“What do you want, babygirl?” His voice was much deeper than usually, the way he looked up at you had you dripping almost instantly. 

“More.” It felt like your tongue was broken, resulting in any noise leaving your mouth being a moan. You wondered if you could cum untouched, because Jungkook’s hands on your hips had you reeling. 

Jungkook’s heart hammered against his ribcage, and he preyed you couldn’t hear it as he stood once again, “I’ll give you more. I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

Grinning, you lean up and capture his lips hungrily, all anxiety diminished. 

Finally, you reached Jungkook’s room, a trial of clothing and underwear on the way. The last item separating you two was his briefs, which he was straining against. Your mouth watered at the sight, your fingers dancing across his hardening cock. Pushing him back onto the bed, you couldn’t help but tug his boxers down quickly. 

The cool air against Jungkook’s aching member caused him to gasp, his eyes not leaving your body as you moved up the bed and straddled his leg. He let out a hiss as you wrap your hand around his shaft, freezing in place. 

Thinking he had suddenly changed his mind, you go to pull away but you are stopped by Jungkook’s hand gripping your wrist, “No, keep going.” 

Smiling, you feel his hand guide yours up and down until he feels you have a good enough rhythm. Then, he throws his head back and scrunches his eyes closed at the feeling of heat washing over his body. Beads of precum drip from Jungkook’s cock, your mouth watering at the sight. Without thinking much about it, you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around to collect all the precum. 

Jungkook groans loudly, his hands flying to your hair and collecting it from around your face in a makeshift ponytail. His hips instinctively stuttered up, his jaw fully agape as he watched his cock disappear between your lips. He always knew you would look so pretty with a cock in your mouth, the amount of times he dreamed about this was beyond countable. 

Eventually his hips twitched, driving him deeper into your mouth. “Sorry,” he flushed, feeling you gag as he reached the base of your throat. 

“No need to be.” You respond, hearing him moan when you move, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. “Oh my god,” Jungkook attempts to bite his lip to silence his moans but he just couldn’t help himself. 

Panic begins to flood his mind when he felt his balls tighten, “S- stop! Don’t wanna- ah-” 

Sensing his panic, you pull off of him with a pop and sit back on your heels, looking up at him obediently. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaves while you wait patiently. You enjoyed having this sort of control over him. It was nice knowing that he could be writhing beneath you in seconds, because outside of the bedroom it wasn’t like that, it was the complete opposite in fact. 

Thinking back to a time where you hid behind Jungkook as he helped you confront a professor on a bad grade you didn’t deserve, you couldn’t help but smirk at the role reversal. 

“I want to feel you.” Jungkook finally whispered, and that was all the reassurance you needed to pounce. 

The kiss was all teeth and need, an indescribable feeling taking over both of you. Quickly and without warning, you straddled Jungkook’s thighs and sunk down on him. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook didn’t swear often, but he just couldn’t help himself with you. It brought no complaints from you though, because the words sent jolts of electricity though you. “You’re so soaked, how are you this tight?” 

A throaty giggle left your mouth, but was quickly replaced by a gasp as Jungkook lifted you up and slammed you back down onto his cock. His arms loop beneath your knees, his hands holding your waist while he continued to life you up and down. You knew he was strong but, fuck, you didn’t expect him to be using you like his own personal pocket pus- 

“Right there! Fuck, more!” You fling yourself forward, pushing his face against your chest and feeling his lips latch around your nipple and bit down. Feeling Jungkook reach a place that had never been touched before, you felt your wetness dripping down your legs and landing on Jungkook’s thighs. Your arousal was unbelievable, and Jungkook was determined to make sure you came harder than you ever had before. 

That power you felt earlier was now gone, and you were a puddle in on top of him. Vulnerability took over you, trusting Jungkook with your whole being. Trusting that he would take care of you, trusting that he meant no harm with this whole situation, trusting him. 

“Kook, I think I’m gonna come.” You moan, feeling him nip at your collarbone. Another gasp falls from your lips as Jungkook throws you onto the bed, his cock not leaving inside you. 

His stilled inside you, kissing you harshly before pulling back, “You’re gonna come on my cock like a good girl, aren’t you?” 

You nod enthusiastically, inhaling your excitement as Jungkook held your hips into the bed and pulled nearly all the way out of you, before slamming back into you punishingly. You cry out, your hand moving down to your clit and rubbing quick circles while you rode out your high. 

"Yes, baby girl, come for me. Squeeze my cock.” Jungkook groaned, biting his lip and letting you ride out your high. White hot pleasure coursed through your veins, your back arching off of his bed. 

Unable to take the squeeze of you anymore, he pulls out much to your dismay and begins to stroke himself above you. Still reeling from your orgasm, you watch in awe while Jungkook strokes himself to completion, spurting white strings of his release across your stomach. 

His cum begins to dribble down your stomach and onto his bed. Then he collapses beside you in a panting heap. 

You two lay like that for a while, sighing in contempt while your mind fell blank of any and all negative thoughts. Eventually the stickiness on your stomach made you feel uneasy, so you went to move to the bathroom but was stopped quickly by Jungkook. 

He walks to the bathroom, collecting your bag on the way and wetting a washcloth with warm water. When he reentered the room, you were laying with your hands behind your head and your legs crossed tightly. He grinned at the sight, you still spent with his orgasm spread across your body. He liked the way you looked in general, but he could almost feel himself twitching yet again at the sight of you now. 

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?” Jungkook, now shy again, tentatively wiped your torso clean. You watched him go eye level with your pelvis, pressing a soft kiss to your hip bone as he cleaned you up. 

It was such a small move, but you felt your stomach flutter. Especially at the way he looked up at you through his eyelashes. When you were finally clean, he pulls himself up and laces his legs through yours, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you still think I need some practice?” You joke, hearing him snort from above you, “because I’m pretty sure you don’t need it.” 

“Well if I say you don’t, then we won’t do this again. But if I say you do, then you’ll get mad and we won’t do this again,” Jungkook shrugged, “so I’m going to keep quiet on the subject.” 

“Master of deceit,” you smack his chest, “I already agreed until the end of the summer.” 

Jungkook felt a slight twinge in his chest at the way you smacked him, his heart fluttering at the gesture despite you having done it many times prior to you two sleeping together. 

“Right,” he responded, pressing another kiss to your temple, “until the end of the summer.” 

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (5/5)

YAS.

I got it done.

My pornstar!Rhett and College!Student!Link fic is DONE.

...it was supposed to be a short ficlet thing (hahahahahaha - cries) Still, it's done - so I hope you enjoy it @peachworthy! It was all for you!

If you want to read the previous part on tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

OR

You can read it ALL here on AO3 Link!

Dating a porn star is not what Link expected.

Not that Link ever expected to be dating a porn star, but the point remains – dating one is not like he thinks one would envision it. To be fair, this is probably because he’s not just dating any porn star, he’s dating Rhett and Rhett is far more to him than just a porn star. In fact, he was his roommate and secret crush long before Link even recognized him by his profession.

But now, having watched one of Rhett’s films, seeing him in action (full porno sex action), Link can confirm that that is indeed what he is. But that doesn’t really matter to Link. Nothing does, but how sweet Rhett is. How doting and romantic and kind of the best boyfriend anyone could ever have and it sort of boggles the mind that he is Link’s boyfriend.

But he is and their relationship is moving along quite amicably. Nights spent watching movies together, going grocery shopping, sharing chaste kisses and the occasionally more heated ones and it’s not all that different from how it was when they were just friends minus the addition of said kissing.

However, it’s more than a few weeks in, and it’s clear to Link that sex is an issue. Or not so much an issue as a nonentity. Neither of them have pushed farther than the classic over-the-clothes action and Link isn’t sure if it’s him or Rhett or both and it finally reaches a point where one of them has to speak up, so he decides to brave the field, “So, um, Rhett?”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks and he’s a little distracted, making dinner for them as he is. Still, Link sees no reason why this discussion can’t be casual, so he shoots for that as he asks, “You…? Ah, you think we’re ever gonna-? Gonna, um, have sex?”

The last comes out so horribly awkward and Link is rubbing at the back of his neck and somehow feeling like a heel in all of this. But communication is important in a relationship and he figures it’s better to speak now then forever hold his peace or whatever. Rhett looks up from the skillet he’s working over, eyebrows raised high, “Why? You don’t want to?”

“No!” Link rejoints quickly, “No, I definitely want to! I just…? I noticed we, uh…haven’t? Yet? So, I-I wasn’t sure-?”

So, you want to talk about it, but you can’t string anything coherent together? His thoughts hiss, but Rhett seems understanding as he removes the skillet from the heat and clicks off the stove. While their food cools, he carefully removes his oven mitts and shrugs, “Well, I mean…I’ll confess, I’m a little…apprehensive to kick things off.”

Link perks up at this and Rhett shoots him a lopsided grin, “Mean, you’ve seen one of my films now. Before you, when I’d get in a relationship, when people found out about what I did – I guess you could say they broke down into two types. First type expected me to be some god of carnality, y’know? Like, the best bang they’d ever have in their lives.”

He runs a hand through his thick hair, tossing it, which Link now recognizes as a nervous tic on his part, “And it’s not really like that. Don’t get me wrong, I think I’m a good lover. I don’t see myself as horrible in bed or anything, but what I’ve found is that a lot of those types of partners had these overblown expectations of me. Like I’d get them off in a second or that I’d ruin them for others or, I dunno, give ‘em orgasms every five seconds and I-?”

Rhett trails off, looking at a loss for words, but Link gets it, “They couldn’t sperate the fantasy from the reality.”

He gets a snap of fingers at that, Rhett looking pleased, “Exactly! Even though people say they understand that porn is fake and that a lot of it is exaggerated, for some reason, if they’re with a person who does it for a living, they expect something…I don’t know, revolutionary.”

Link nods and Rhett starts plating up their food, avoiding Link’s eyes as he speaks, “And I guess I just-? I don’t want you to be one of those types of people.”

Link’s heart stings a little at the thought – or more, at the idea that Rhett had had that thought. Rhett takes the plates towards their kitchen table, eyes still downcast and cheeks clearly red as he murmurs, “I don’t think you are. Truth be told, I know you’re better than that. But…I really like you, Link. And I don’t want to lose you because-!”

Link takes the plates from Rhett and sets them down, he then tips Rhett’s face up by his chin and kisses him tenderly, looking into his eyes as he speaks, “You won’t.”

Rhett doesn’t look convinced, so Link kisses him again, then wraps his arms around his neck, tugging him close, “You said there were two types?”

“Ahhhh, yeeaaah,” Rhett draws out, looking at little sheepish even as his arms settle around Link’s waist, “The other type is the one I’ll admit I’m a bit more worried you might fall into.”

Link’s eyebrows rise, asking for him to continue more than words can. Rhett does; but resumes not looking at him while he does so, “The other type are…intimidated.”

Link lets out a snort that speaks volumes, clearly saying there’s no way Rhett ‘intimidates’ him but that doesn’t stop him, “No, seriously – they think because of what I do, how many films I’ve made and how many partners I’ve worked with, that I’ll be hard to please or that they’ve got to do something extraordinary to stand out.”

“Well, I mean…I’m already extraordinary, so-?” Link teases and Rhett rolls his eyes, starting to edge away, but Link lets out a little abortive ‘Hey!’ before dragging him back over and kissing him. This time they kiss for a while, Rhett’s fingers hooking into the beltloops of Link’s jeans and dragging him closer. It’s right on that edge of sweet and sexy and, after a while, Link manages to draw in a rather audible breath, enough to murmur, “No, I get what you’re sayin’…”

Link puts space between them, knowing that now’s not the time to just jump into bed considering Rhett’s concerns. Especially in light of their legitimacy, which he confirms as he takes his seat at the table, “Look, I’ve thought about all of that. Everything you’ve worried about or your old flames thought, I’ve run ‘em through my noggin and I gotta say, all of it did trip me up. At first. But then, I had an epiphany!”

“Really?” Rhett asks with a very incredulous tone as he takes his own seat. Link’s already started digging into his meal, looking smug even as he answers with an agreeable, muffled hum – mouth full of food. Once swallowed, he grins and gestures at Rhett with his fork, “And my thought was, we just gotta get on an even playing field.”

Rhett looks a little stumped by that, blinking rapidly, “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Link says cheekily, “We’re making a movie.”

+

“You…sure about this?” Rhett looks at the Go-Pro set up in front of his bed with a mixture of uncertainty and dread. Link doesn’t mind the first, but is bothered by the second, even as he adjusts the camera, “Absolutely.”

“I don’t know, man…”

Link looks through the view finder. The lightning is just right, but he adjusts the angle some. He wants to make sure he gets a good, wide shot of the bedroom – especially the bed. That’s where the magic is going to happen. Just thinking of it, a whole maelstrom of butterflies churn through his central nervous system. Still, he’s nothing if not determined.

Some would call it stubborn. He prefers determined.

Regardless, Link looks to Rhett, “Look, this is just for us. Alright? Nobody gets to see this lil’ gem but you and me. It’s,” he looks into the distance, thoughtful, “It’s a Link and Rhett production!”

This gets a laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Considering my extensive filmography, shouldn’t I be the headliner? Shouldn’t it be a Rhett and Link production?”

The name flip causes Link to make a face and drags another chuckle out of Rhett, “Take it you can’t handle that?”

“Well…I am the one in school studying film…”

“Okay, but I’m the star attraction here.”

“Are you?” Link asks with a devilish grin, even as he goes about adjusting various throw pillows and things, as if to perfectly set the scene for what is about to take place, “How do you know I won’t upstage you?”

The sound of disbelief that emerges from Rhett causes Link to make another face, “Seriously. You haven’t had all of this yet,” he gestures to his whole body, “Might just be I’m the one that ruins you for anyone else. That I just-! Just blow your mind so much sexually that you can’t get enough of me!”

Rhett is all smiles, enjoying Link’s boastful side more than he probably should. But it’s hard not to. It’s so endearing and, oddly, attractive and Link knows it as he claps his hands together and a couple ‘alright’s’ leave him in rapid, nervous succession because, well, it’s showtime.

And showtime means sex time.

Sex time…with Rhett.

Link is going to have sex with him and okay, okay, okay…

“You alright, buddy?” Rhett asks seriously and Link realizes his ‘alright’s’ have switched over to nervous ‘okay’s’ and he’s sort of a rambling, shaky mess. He looks at Rhett and oh gosh, the man is too attractive by half. Link needs to get back in charge of this situation. As such, he draws in a deep breath through his nose and nods to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?’ Rhett returns softly, looking worried as he speculatively eyes the camera and then the bed again, ‘Cause I remember my first time filming and I was a mess.”

This draws Link’s attention, “Yeah?”

Rhett nods, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I mean, yeah, sex is pretty matter of fact, but knowing how to go about it and with a bunch of people watching…”

“Okay, but,” Link walks over to Rhett and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, before taking one of his hands and giving it a squeeze, “No one’s watching but you and me.”

“True,” Rhett confirms softly, “But that doesn’t mean you’re not nervous.”

“Are you?” Link asks and Rhett grins, “What? Nervous?”

At Link’s nod Rhett laughs, squeezing Link’s hand back, “You bet your sweet bippy I am!”

“Great! Then we’re on the same page!” Link beams and then draws back his hand and goes over towards the dresser, grabbing a folder he brought with him when he brought in his filming set up, “Speaking of pages…”

He draws out one and Rhett looks over it before letting out a loud boom of laughter, “You wrote a script?!”

Link shrugs, “Just a couple of words…”

“I see,” Rhett giggles and flips through it, reading quick snippets of the ridiculous prose, “And you said ‘Movement’ had bad dialogue.”

“What’s wrong with the dialogue?” Link asks with distinct affront and Rhett waves the pages at him, as he coos dramatically, “‘Ohhh Daddy Link, you’re so big’?”

Link snatches back the pages and tosses them to the side, “You just wait!”

“Uh huh,” Rhett is still giggling but Link looks serious, “You’ll be saying that and more!”

“Oh, I will?” Rhett wheezes and he wasn’t aware this was going to be so much fun. To be honest, neither was Link, who looks a little sheepish even as he reaches for Rhett, “C’mere…”

Rhett does and they kiss for a while. Nice, warm, comfortable kisses until Link sneaks in just the slightest nip of teeth along Rhett’s bottom lip. The tiny sting draws Rhett up short, makes his breath catch and Link draws back to look at him, blue eyes heavy lidded as he hums, “I’m gonna push record now.”

Rhett can only manage a nod and Link pushes a button on the Go Pro. They resume kissing and Rhett can’t help but let out a whimper as Link…pushes him backwards. The push isn’t terribly forceful, but it’s enough that Rhett finds himself backing up towards the bed. He feels the tap of the mattress against the back of his knees and at Link’s next nudge, he falls back against it.

Link clambers over top of him and their lips have hardly broken contact the entire time. Link’s frame is slighter than Rhett’s, but not any less substantial, and Rhett groans, finding he rather likes it beneath the other man. More so when Link leverages himself up a little…higher. Somehow Rhett finds he feels…small. Something he’s never really ever felt before and the sensation shoots straight to his dick, more so when Link husks, “You ready to learn a new form?”

That was actually something Rhett remembers seeing in the script Link wrote. It was a haphazard line tossed in amongst the sillier remarks he’d picked out, but hearing it now, he shudders, “I…?”

“C’mon,” Link whispers against his neck, which he peppers with little sucking kisses, “Gotta master some other…movements…”

The last is said with a level of severity that Link’s surprised he manages, but also – hearing it – he can’t help but laugh at himself. Okay, so, his dialogue isn’t all that great. To be fair, he wrote it more for fun than anything.

And as kind of a segue into how Rhett should be prepared for him, not the other way around. Link supposes it was his approach to avoiding nerves – an air of bravado that would sustain him through any potential worries.

After all, Rhett’s not wrong. Rhett is experienced, he’s done a lot – in comparison, Link’s sexual history is dismal. Still, Link’s sure he can provide something the previous lovers didn’t and he, heart in his throat, asks, “Tell me, baby…you ever bottom?”

It was, in fact, a question he asked in his script but, also, one Link wanted to ask for real. Considering his stature, Link’s pretty sure Rhett hasn’t. And with Rhett’s answering groan of desire, the question is confirmed, albeit the core of it still unanswered. Link whispers, “…you want to?”

“Fuck,” Rhett manages in such a breathy way that Link feels his balls tighten, more so when he can feel Rhett’s whole body nod beneath him, “Yeah…”

“You want to?” Link asks again, wanting Rhett to be absolutely clear about what he’s agreeing to, even as Rhett’s head starts rapidly bobbing more and more, “Yes, yes…yes, I want to, Link.”

“Link?” he asks and it’s a clear tease, one met with Rhett groaning again, this time not from pleasure, so much as amused aggravation, “I’m not calling you Daddy, Link.”

“Mmm, not yet,” Link purrs into his chest even as he eases up enough to draw Rhett’s shirt up and over his head. Rhett, not to be outdone, grabs the bottom hem of Link’s shirt and, working together, the two ease it up and over Link’s head. Now shirtless, the two resume kissing and moving against one another, hips lewdly grinding even with their jeans on and Link absent mindedly wishes they’d worn something simpler to remove.

But the feeling of his denim clad erection rubbing roughly against Rhett’s does create a magnificent friction that draws a curse from him, his skin breaking out in a light sheen of sweat as they continue undulating. Rhett’s fingers, which had once more gripped to Link’s belt loops, now dive beneath the back of his waistband, dipping beneath his underwear and gripping his ass firmly and Link grunts his name approvingly.

If Link learned one thing from watching Rhett in that film, it’s that the man has amazing hands. Big palms, long fingers, and Jesus – his grip. He’s latched on and breathing heavily and the sounds of those pants in Link’s ear is better than any music he’s ever heard.

Another thing he learned from the film – cheesy music is not needed. Just the sounds of two people together, seeking pleasure, is more than enough to get the fires going. Although frankly, Link was on fire the moment his lips met Rhett’s. And it’s a fire that only stokes higher as he eases up, pulls back and Rhett goes with him.

Link’s legs are on either side of Rhett’s, practically putting him in Rhett’s lap and Rhett curls up, his mouth aimed at Link’s dusky nipples. He claims first the left, then the right, licking and nibbling at the sensitive tips and Link’s head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing on a low groan because, yes.

He’s always had such a sensitive chest. It was a source of embarrassment for him once. That his nipples were such an erogenous zone. But now, with Rhett feasting there, he’s more than okay with it. Okay with Rhett’s hands having left his ass to grip at his bare back, to hold him still while he feasts on his chest.

Rhett’s teeth scratching through swaths of chest hair with abandon as they trail down as far as they can go before arching back up, searching out Link’s mouth and Link kisses him again, his hands tangling in the back of Rhett’s long hair, fingers ensnaring themselves deep within the mass of curls and tugging just so. Rhett whimpers at it, hips jutting upwards and Link feels himself bounce some, smirks into their kiss as he murmurs, “Tryin’ ta take me for a ride?”

His accent comes out thick, a sweet southern drawl and Rhett’s eyes are glossy green as he puts up again and Link’s own hips answer – a dirty dance beginning as they rock against one another. And while the simulation of the actual sex act is pleasing enough it’s just – not the real thing and that’s what Link wants.

He wants it, but not like this – not this time and he lets out a whine even as he forces himself up and off, forces himself to pull away and stand – his hands shaking as they remove his jeans. And while Rhett is still lying there on the bed – looking like some kind of sexual Adonis – Link can just make out the slightest sliver of insecurity in his eyes.

It hides well beneath the open lust, but it’s there. And even though he’s clad only in his underwear – a rather funny sight no doubt, given the way his stiff cock is making the material curve outwards – he asks gently, “You okay?”

Rhett nods and starts working off his own jeans and underwear, even as he breathes, “Just…look at you.”

“Me?” Link laughs lightly and Rhett nods, sitting up enough to pulls everything off. Once his cumbersome clothing is removed, he looks to Link again, his gaze full of wonder, “Yeah. I mean…you’re just-?”

Rhett licks his lips and swallows, his eyes darting away for a moment as he whispers, “You’re so…pretty.”

“Aw, shucks,” Link waves a hand before going to take his underwear off, “Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“I don’t,” Rhett intones with such severity that Link’s hands freeze on the elastic waistband of his underwear. Rhett’s looking at him now. Staring at him and Link feels all the tiny hairs on his body stand on end as Rhett speaks, “You’re…you’re beautiful, Link.”

Am I? Link wants to ask; but feels ridiculous at the prospect. He toys with repeating the sentiment – because (of course) Rhett is beautiful too. But there’s something about the way Rhett said it, about the way he’s looking at him, that keeps Link’s mouth closed. Keeps it closed as he finally removes his underwear and somehow that’s what breaks the serious tension between them, Rhett’s eyes going wide, “Oh.”

“What?” Link asks and he looks down and then back up again, confused.

“That’s…” Rhett runs a hand over his jaw, “That’s…a big dick.”

The shocked, delighted laugh that breaks out of Link is surprisingly loud but Rhett just sits up more, grinning, “No, I’m serious, man. You could make a lotta money in the biz with that thing.”

“I could?”

“Yeah. Big market in the big dick department.”

“…so what I wrote in the script was accurate?” Link waggles his eyebrows, shooting him a gloating look even as Rhett sighs in defeat, “Well-? Yeah? Yeah, I guess so…”

Link lets out a little ‘woo hoo!’ and it’s hard for Rhett not to chuck a pillow at him and call this whole thing off. Not that he ever would, smiling as he is. Smiling and chewing on his bottom lip as words rumble out from deep within his chest, “But do you know how to use it?”

Link goes over towards the nearby dresser and, far more smoothly than he even imagined, he draws out a tiny bottle of lube. He quickly coats one hand before tossing the bottle near Rhett and, making sure to keep eye contact, he takes a good grip on himself. His words come out in a pleasured hiss as he strokes himself, his length growing wet and slick, “You’re about to find out.”

The visible shudder that moves though Rhett makes Link have to tighten his hold, because it wouldn’t do to cum from just that. It’s hard though. Not to lose himself at the mere sight of Rhett’s sheer arousal. Still, he manages as his eyelids grow heavy, his voice thick with emotion as he murmurs, “Go one then, Rhett. Get ready.”

“…ready?”

Link nods and his chin juts towards the direction where he tossed the lube, the tiny bottle resting against Rhett’s left hipbone, “Ready for Daddy’s big dick.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rhett and Link knows it’s not a laugh. It’s something much more lascivious as Rhett takes the bottle and begins to coat his fingers. He lies back and parts his legs and Link just keeps talking, “That’s it. That’s a good boy. Draw your knees up…”

“Fuck, Link…” Rhett openly moans and does as instructed. He pulls his knees up and it makes himself more compact, smaller, and he arches his hips, makes sure to put himself on full display as his fingers drop to his entrance. He eases one finger in past the tight ring of muscle, then another, and Link keeps speaking, even as he continues to jack himself (the sound of his hand on his flesh bordering on obscene) as he speaks, “That’s it. Get yourself nice and open for me.”

“Link…”

“You’re so tiny, baby. Gotta make room for me.”

The tight mewl of pleasure that leaves Rhett at that, the way his hard cock stirs against his belly, the wet tip smearing the skin there as he does as Link asks, makes it difficult for Link to continue. He’s panting now and there’s not enough air and he needs to get in. He needs to take Rhett before he loses himself to all the sensory stimulation going on around him.

He kneels on the bed, making the mattress dip and Rhett’s fingers lose their rhythm. He slowly withdraws his fingers, a noise of discontentment leaving him but Link just shushes him, kisses him, before he grabs the nearby throw pillows.

They work together to adjust them beneath the curve of Rhett’s spine, making it more comfortable for him to lift his legs higher, the tops of his thighs pressing back lightly against his body. Link doesn’t want Rhett turned into a pretzel for them to fuck properly, for them to face one another – that won’t look good on camera.

Link’s not one of those driven by the sight of two lumped up forms – bodies a heaving, tangled mass while they work away at one another. Same goes for up close, zoomed in shots of their bodies making a connection. While pleasing in the moment and certainly something he likes to see in the throes of passion, it’s never been something he’s enjoyed in adult films.

Granted, it’s not like he can zoom in with the camera now, so that’s not something he has to worry about exactly, but the fact remains – the two things are not something he wants captured on film. He wants their movie to fulfill his tastes. In reflection, he should have asked for Rhett’s tastes as well, what he would have liked to see, but then he feels fingers pinch at one of his nipples and yelps.

“What was that for?!”

“You’re distracted,” Rhett hisses, squirming beneath him, “Distracted instead of fuckin’ me!”

“I was thinking…” Link looks to the camera and then to Rhett and then back again. Rhett’s head knocks back against the bed on a sigh, “Link, please don’t go all directorial on me now...”

Link lets out a pleased little chuckle, “Lil’ impatient?”

“Ain’t nothing little about me.”

“I beg to differ,” Link growls and he kisses Rhett, buries his hands in all his glorious hair and then – thankfully – he pulls back enough to take a good hold of himself, to direct himself in. Rhett chokes out a sound that is the perfect cross between pain and pleasure and Link glows, “Yeah, see that? You’re so small and tight, sweetheart. I don’t even know if you can fit all of me.”

The cords on Rhett’s neck stand out as he tosses his head back, whimpering as Link spears him open, as he cries, “Jesus, Link.”

“Yes?” Link asks in a strained voice, but one that is light with enjoyment. Because he knows. He knows that – if anything – there’s nothing little about him. And Rhett is recognizing that now. Recognizing that Link is big and thick and filling him up quite nicely. His body is doing its best to stretch, to be accommodating, but it’s hard.

As hard as Rhett’s own dick, which he reaches for, giving it one swift, firm stroke before Link lets out a snarl of disapproval. He snatches back Rhett’s hand, presses it hard back against the mattress with a light, chastising ‘nuh-uh-uh’ and Rhett lets out a tight whine because no. He needs more, he has to have it, and then Link moves.

And this is very much the definition of movement.

Link’s hips work like a well-oiled machine, his length beginning a steady pistoning in and out, and Rhett’s hands can’t help themselves, fleeing to Link’s ass, needing to hold on to something – anything. He grabs it hard – fingers digging in and pressing him down, pressing him deeper, and Link answers with a curse, Rhett’s name following after as he picks up the pace and it’s clear neither of them is going to last long.

Their lips lock and unlock in filthy, wet kisses – their damp foreheads pressing together now and then when they have to draw back for air and just breathe. But they share oxygen between the pants, the bed beneath the shaking slightly – shaking like their limbs and Link’s mouth moves to Rhett’s ear, brushing against it as he whispers, “That’s it. That’s my good boy.”

Rhett sobs and Link kisses his earlobe, gasping, “You going to cum from my big dick alone? You going to do that for Daddy?”

Another tight sound winds its way out of Rhett’s throat and his body is growing rigid even as it trembles and Link can feel him squeezing around him, can feel how close he is. The pressure is fantastic, yet link can’t help himself, can’t help but kiss Rhett’s cheek, can’t help but meet his eyes as he asks, “Tell me…”

“Yesssss,” Rhett hisses and Link presses for it, “Yes, what?”

“Yes!” Rhett pants, his head nodding, “Yes, Da-!”

He doesn’t finish saying it. The word ‘Daddy’ gets lost, becoming a pure, jubilant shout as his body breaks apart, his climax washing over him like a warm, sweet cascade. The feel of it – of Rhett breaking apart beneath him – the sight of him losing control – sends Link over and he cums harder than he ever has.

His body loses complete control, snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight and he knows he goes a little crazy – his body jack hammering away with the kind of force he would normally abhor, but – what can he do? Rhett feels so perfect around him.

Link’s lost – swept up in the storm of Rhett’s release and his own and Link can feel starkly hot, wet spurts against his stomach and his own body is going much the same within Rhett. The collide against one another, again and again, until all the stings of pleasure are wrung out of each of them. They end up a sweaty heap until Link rolls off and looks up at the ceiling, eyes wide, “Wow.”

The word comes out winded. Impressed. Rhett responds much the same. They both stare up at the ceiling and Link knows the camera is still recording, but he could honestly care less. He feels weightless, buoyant, and just as he thinks he might float up and out of his body. Rhett sighs, “I need a new job.”

Link frowns, eyebrows knitting together, and he turns to Rhett, confused, “What?”

Rhett doesn’t look at him, eyes still glues upwards, as he exhales, “Need a new job, man.”

“…why?”

Rhett turns to him and his green gaze is unbelievably soft, “Told you. I said I’d always planned on getting out when I met someone.”

Link doesn’t speak, he just waits. Waits for Rhett to make him one of the happiest men on planet earth, as he says, “And I met you.”

“Yeah?” Link asks shyly, uncertainly and at Rhett’s nod, he smiles, licking his lips, “You saying you like me?”

“Shit, bo, “Rhett laughs, “think it’s pretty obvious I do more’n just like you.”

“Oh?” Link’s heart twirls up inside him and truthfully? This? This is even better than the world shattering sex they just had. More so when Rhett rolls to one side and, looking deep into Link’s eyes, confesses, “Yeah. I love you, Link.”

I love you, Link.

Link rolls on to his side, kisses Rhett, and – finally – gets to say something he’s been thinking for a very long time, “I love you too.”

+

The film they made is raw, messy, and the best film Rhett thinks he’s ever made.

Link points out it didn’t win any awards, but Rhett boasts that Link IS the reward and honestly, Link will take that. He’ll take that and then some. Rhett drops out of the business; Link continues with school – they transition fully from roommates to friends to lovers and both recognize that this movement in their lives is far better than any other kind of movement.

Because it’s one they’re sharing together.

[thewheezingwyvern]

Giveaway Prize

Congratulations to my follower giveaway back in December to @engel-hageshii. Thank you so much for your patience but I have your match up fic and headcanons! I hope you enjoy it! 

I match you wiiiiith.....

One of the biggest reasons I came to this match up is your caring spirit. You’ve made it very clear that you long to protect and look after the people closest to you. Not only do you try to protect them, you actively try to build them up, help them grow and try to do what you can to make them happy. I think Tamaki would really grow to admire that about you and find you strong for doing so. Initially your quiet and reserved nature would be an obstacle since Tamaki is a shy sort and would likely not try to break through that barrier on his own. However after the two of you acclimated to each other, and your more easy going personality comes out, I think he would get smitten pretty quickly but would hold onto those feelings forever and a day.

ღYou two met to take down a dangerous black market arms dealer that was able to avoid legal ramifications. Since you were a vigilante and had a teleportation Quirk, you were ideal for breaking in to a compound and finding incriminating evidence and leave it somewhere public so the cops could formally take him down.

ღ Because you were a Vigilante, he knew he really should be repeatedly seeing you casually. So Tamaki found himself coming up with reasons to meet you and spend time with you.

ღ Tamaki started a habit of bringing extra snacks ever since you showed up for a mission together and you hadn’t eaten. He kept doing it because it was the only gift he could muster the courage to give for a while.

ღ The first time he actually did get you gift, it was of a book that you had rambled about wanting to check out to make conversation. Tamaki had to hide his blush when he saw the way your smile lit up.

ღ One mission you accidentally teleported them both into the river and it was a cold day. The two of you spent the rest of the evening huddled up in his apartment, wrapped in warm blankets and drinking hot cocoa.

Kinks: Daddy language, slight bit of choking, shower sex, tentacles, Quirk play

Word Count: 2.3 K

                                     ┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐

Teleportation had been an extremely useful Quirk for you and your Vigilante career. And it had proved to pair very well with Suneater’s Quirk since the two of you had started teaming up to take down exceptionally tricky Villains that managed to evade law enforcement. It had helped you dodge lethal blows, teleport key items to safety and even just save you a few steps up a flight of stairs when you were exhausted. Really it was a boon.

But every Quirk had a drawback.

This time it came in the form of you standing naked in the middle of a running shower, hot water sluicing down your back from the shower head and a cloud of steam wafting around you. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, teleporting without your clothes but it had been a long time since the last incident. That alone would have been ok but you weren’t alone. Hot embarrassment flooded you, your eyes growing wide at the sight. You were staring into the bright red face of Amajiki Tamaki. Silken black locks moulded to his skull beneath the heavy embrace of the water that drenched him. The rush of water hummed through the air, sheathing your skin in a dewy sheen. 

“B-b-b--”

“Tamaki!” you squealed.

Mortified, your hands flew up to cover your bare chest, a fresh wave of heat crashing against your cheeks. But immediately you remembered that your lower half was still very exposed and your hands flew down in a panic to cover yourself.  Tamaki had already whipped around, a bright red blush all the way down his neck by the time you had settled with an arm wrapped over your chest and the other hand shyly dipping down to cover down low. 

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-I god I’m so sorry.”

Tamaki screwed his eyes shut, feeling his cock twitch against his abdomen. Trembling fingers knotted into fists by his sides, gross embarrassment overwhelming him along with the distressingly powerful urge to turn around and touch you. To kiss you like he’d wanted for months. Would you accept him? Did he even dare to ask you to stay? 

He could hear your hands clamoring along the rail of the sliding door, glass panel shrouded with condensation. Before you could slip out or even open the door, Tamaki closed a hand around your wrist, face still a mere inch from the shower wall. Weeks he had fantasized seeing you like this, having you this close to touch and taste and he couldn’t just let you go that easy. The feel of your pulse beneath his fingers was a grounding sensation but with it, he found his own heart rate spiking. The tiny whisper of his voice that had been bubbling in his throat rapidly withered and left him silent. 

“Stay.” he uttered out to you in the tiniest voice.

It was such a quiet request that was nearly drowned out by the pounding of the water. But you heard it. That little plea had you freeze in place, fixated on the feel of his skin against yours. The red of his face and neck only deepened as he struggled to find his voice again. There was a fine trembling in his hands that you could feel and that was enough to grant you the barest sliver of strength to find your own voice.

“T-Tamaki?”

Hearing the quiver you spoke with, the quiet lilt of curiosity had his blood running hot. Desire was the flame that urged him to turn his head slowly until he was peeking at you from over his shoulder. Dark eyes flickered, wreathed in the red flush of his embarrassment. The pro hero swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting against the urge that he had to withdraw into his shell. The opportunity was one had only dreamed of and he just couldn’t let it slip away.

“B-butterfly..p-please stay…”

Butterfly. It wasn’t the first time that you had heard that nickname but he wondered if you realized yet that butterflies were his favorite. He wondered if you realized just how much he wanted to kiss you whenever you were really close to him on missions. You were a vigilante, he shouldn’t be yearning for this but you had somehow dominated his thoughts anyways. Thunderstruck you stared for a moment, unable to believe what you heard. When your brain finally grasped what he was asking of you, you grabbed a bottle of body wash and squeezed a healthy amount into your palm.

Working the thick cream into a lather, you set to work gliding your hands along his back, feeling your fluster increase with every stroke. The muscles cording along his shoulders were more defined than you had thought they would be, but hero work did have it’s way of carving strength into your body. Diligently you worked the suds down his arms, feeling your body grow hotter and his own tense beneath your touch. Tamaki swallowed thickly. It was hard for his mind to not wander, to meander down the path of you slipping your hands around to his chest. Your fingers would linger, following the shape of his pectorals before trailing downwards to relish in the lines of his abdomen. His cock twitched again at the thought. 

Tamaki took a deep breath and turned around, desperate for you to touch him more but also burning to lay eyes on you again. Despite turning his front towards you, the pro still had his head turned to the side, finding himself far too embarrassed to meet your gaze. A soft gasp caught in your throat when you caught sight of his very erect cock. You pulled back your hands abruptly, worried you would try to take things too far and touch where it was unwelcome. But one of your wrists was captured in his grip before it was pulled slowly back to his torso. Tamaki was even brighter red, face still turned to the side so you couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“D-don’t stop…” he stuttered out to you, his voice barely above a whisper.

A pair of hands settled onto your waist, long fingers gripping you firmly with a force that would have made him seem confident had you not known him. Tamaki pulled you closer with a gentle strength. The scent of his body wash, a pleasant blend of rain and bamboo, wafted over you both in a cloud. Having you wrapped in his own scent left him feeling more aroused. It was an unseen mark he left on you, a claim that marked you as his. The increase in desire for you left him emboldened and suddenly you were pressed against his front, hard cock twitching against your lower abdomen.

“I need y-you, Butterfly.”

His lips tentatively found yours, hot tongue swiping at the seam of your lips for entry. It was pure bliss for him when he realized you did not hesitate before allowing him to deepen his kiss. Your lips were even softer than he had thought they would be and the sheer sensation of your tongue lapping and twisting with his kindled the fire that burned in him. Passion burst in sparks and it drove Tamaki to cradle the back of your head with his right hand while his left mapped out a path to the dip in your lower back. With a firm tug and a strength that betrayed his flustered appearance, he pressed you even more firmly against him.

“Butterfly…” Came his hoarse whisper when he pulled away for air.

The moment felt like it was his first glass of water in days. The feel of your skin against him was nothing short of divine and he needed more of it; more of you. Open mouthed kisses were pressed to the curve of your neck, tongue tasting tenderly along your pulse. That was when he felt it: your hips rocking against him as you desperately sought out the sweet friction that you longed for against your clit. Tamaki was moving suddenly, guiding you back and to the side until the slick tiles met your back. Steam swirled around the shower as your thigh was guided up to hook around narrow hips.

“I-I want to be inside you...Is that okay?”

“God yes! Tamaki…” You kissed him with fervor, “I have wanted this for weeks!”

Tamaki’s breathing grew ragged. Weeks. The lilt in your voice painted with the sound of desperation was velvety rich against his ears. The way you touched him, kissed him, it was all intoxicating and he wanted every drop of yourself that you were willing to give. A hand dipped between your legs, fingers stroking along your sopping folds. The slick that had gathered was hot and in abundance and it had his cock twitching for you.

“Is this all for me?” he asked in awe, a smile spreading on his face when you nodded, “This is for you.”

The same hand that had played with your needy sex shifted his dick until the head nudged just into your slick heat. The long groan you gave, pussy quivering around him, was a siren song to his ears. It lured out the temptation that grew inside of him, made Tamaki want to fall even deeper into you against the voice in his head that urged him to take it slow. You deserved it slow. But god he was so hungry for you. The way your pussy was trying to greedily suck him in only made his heart pound and his hands shake.

“You’re so beautiful…” those lips kissed at the shell of your ear, “A p-pretty little B-Butterfly just for me.”

“Why a butterfly?” you asked, a groan escaping your full mouth when he suckled at your earlobe, “Why that nickname?”

Tamaki pulled back, face flushing bright red again before sinking his cock deeper into your velvety heat. With a loud moan and a gasp he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt so perfect. He’d come too far to back out now from telling you the truth so he took a deep and steadying breath, kissing softly at your skin.

“Because they’re one of my favorites.”

Tamaki rocked his hips in slow strokes, dick dragging along your walls in perfect bliss. The hot water pounded against his side, sending a find spray falling over you. Being out of the direct stream of the shower brought a chill over you, even as the hero continued to thrust within you. But the chill also pebbled your nipples to hard little peaks, perfect little nubs for his fingers to toy with. Hero work left his fingers mildly calloused, creating a delicious rasp against your sensitive buds and it immersed you in an even deeper pleasure.

Courage took hold of you then, “Tamaki...have you had any calamari today?”

Black eyes hazed with lust bored into yours. Realization bloomed clear and bright in his gaze, hips jerking once more to sheath himself fully into your heat, “Yeah…”

“Will you use your tentacles on me?”

The question, murmured in earnest, sent another sharp spike of arousal spearing through Tamaki. For a brief moment he hesitated but the grip of arousal had greatly diminished the doubt and anxiety that would have normally hung over him like a cloud. His fingers shifted on his command into long, wriggling tentacles, snaking around your torso as he continued to thrust up inside of you. A coil slipped up the skin of your back only to creep around your throat, squeezing lightly in a move that left you more helpless within his grasp. The rapid shift in power balance had you leaking around the thick cock that was moving inside of you. And it was this shift in dynamic that loosened your tongue for him.

“Ohhh-ohhh Daddy, yes! Harder-!”

Dark eyes shot wide open and that was the point that tipped Tamaki over the edge of his composure. The feral roared to life in his blood and suddenly his thrusts grew faster and rougher, a low growl escaping his lips. Slick tentacles twisted around your bared breasts and squeezed, tips fluttering over your pebbled nipples to only add to your burgeoning pleasure. Another long coil twisted its way down to press against your neglected clit, twisting circles around the sensitive bud. 

“Ah-! B-Butterfly..! Clench around me just like tha- ahhhh!” his breaths were coming out in ragged pants, “Kiss me.”

You obeyed without question, pressing your lips to his, allowing his tongue to crash against yours as he continued to thrust inside of you. Every part of you was awash with pleasure and stimulation, tightening that coil in your abdomen as you drew closer to the edge. Bamboo and rain wafting over you in a cloud. The tentacle around your throat squeezed, not painfully tight but enough to make it just a bit harder to take in a proper breath. Tamaki decided that filling you with his cock wasn’t enough. With a passing thought, his left hand shifted as well, fingers morphing into curling tendrils, suction cups slowly dragging and catching on your skin. 

You squealed into his kiss when first one, then two tentacles pushed their way into your quivering sex. Deliciously full and rapidly growing drunk on the feeling of those tentacles pressing against that spongy spot within you, you bucked wildly to reach your release. Tamaki released your lips just in time to hear you howl in pleasure, white spots dancing before your eyes. The way you creamed around his cock had him close to bursting but there was one final push to come for him.

“Daddy ahhhh-!”

That was when hot seed burst from his swollen tip, flooding into your clenching pussy. When the two of you grew still, mouths parted with heavy panting he withdrew his tentacles. Tamaki didn’t give you time to feel achingly empty before he pulled you into the shower stream, embracing you tightly beneath the hot water. The hug was crushingly tight, almost like he thought you’d disappear if he let go.

“B-Butterfly will you...s-stay with me tonight?”

Your shaking fingers threaded through his drenched black hair before you whispered back to him, “I will. As long as you want.”

[theteej]

on white performative anxiety on election night

Ok, here we go. I had decided that I would not watch the election results unfold last night because quite frankly--it was clear that it would be a close race, and just like with sports games it takes a particular type of narcissistic imagining to think that constant watching will change the impact of an event simply because you watch it.  Also, this isn't a sports game--it's people's lives.  So I ordered a pizza and worked through three unread X-Men collections (decent, by the way--especially the new take on Marauders).

By 8pm I was getting frequent texts, and despite putting my phone in another room, i heard the buzzing enough to get me off the couch. I logged onto social media to see a flood of white Democrats having a complete meltdown as if the election had been called.  And that same existential dread/despair cataclysmically reverberating across social media in New Zealand, South Africa, and Australia.  I was so confused.  What the actual fuck were people upset about?  He hadn't conceded. Most states hadn't been called.  The responses felt so much like being in high school or college where I'd studied for exams and felt reasonably prepared but then got overwhelmed in the psychic energy of performed anxiety/fear/studying that everyone did around finals.  Hell, in pre-covid times I had to limit my time on campus as a professor in the last week because the palpable miasma of fear/anxiety/performative freaking out was too much for me, even though I WAS JUST GRADING THE FINALS. Honestly, I was baffled.  Why were people like this?  They knew that Wisconsin and Michigan and Pennsylvania were not going to count their early voting polls first, and the in person would screw Republican.  WHY WERE THEY FREAKING OUT?

And then it slowly dawned on me.  They really had believed their own lies.  They thought there was going to be a magical, massive blue wave of repudiation of President Trump, after the xenophobia, the racism, the wanton cruelty, the vicious fascism.  They needed to believe that this moment would redeem them, this electoral moment would fix them.  And they were mourning, almost disproportionately, this sense of utter collapse.  They were treating the reality of the closeness of the election as somehow equivalent to the idea of a Trump re-election victory.  What the actual hell.

I started to see a lot of "I can't believe it's even this close" statuses.  I put down my pizza in annoyance and kept reading.  There were so many variations on the time-honoured "this is not who we are" canard so many people tell themselves about America. People were mourning, in real time, the lie they'd told themselves.  There was a fundamental believe that Trumpism, the vile populism and toxic mix of racism and other oppressive elements, was an "aberration" that could be corrected.  There was a willing disbelief that this was not part of the very core of this country, that 'America' as a concept is a bad place--one made entirely possible through enslavement and genocide and one that was absolutely fixable through a simple electoral action.  And it's wild, because that's never been the case.  Not now, not ever.  I remember in 2008, being overwhelmed by white people wanting to celebrate Obama with me, but I was also keenly aware of racism and the fact that my own state had just voted to take away same-sex marriage.  Dr. Jim Barrett, a professor in my graduate program at Illinois, stopped me, a new, black graduate student who he didn't know, and said, "isn't the election great?" and i said, "I'm from California, and I'm more worried also about how easily people can dismiss queer rights."  He paused for a second, and then said, "but we did it this time with Obama!"  Here was a full-grown man with a PhD in American history casually telling a black graduate student (WHOSE NAME HE DID NOT EVEN KNOW) how great it was to be able to absolve oneself of responsibility via an electoral process, and to imagine an America without self-criticism, just redemption.

And that's what was at the heart of this baffling pre-capitulation, one that exceeded even the easy stereotype of the always-losing Democrats.  BIDEN HADN'T EVEN LOST. He had (and as of now still) leads in electoral votes! But everyone was moaning, gnashing teeth, and grieving.  But what they were really grieving was their own innocence.  Their naïve assumption that they could be the heroes in a story, in a history of violence that was expressly built for them, even if they wanted to deny it.  Trumpism sells a fantasy of white revanchism, of recovery, and even those whites who imagine otherwise can't exorcise it via a ballot because the entire system of it is at its core, still violent and racist.  Y'all seriously wanted a parade, a movement repudiating this.  What America do you live in?  Did we not go through the same black summer?  Of course we didn't.  You saw this summer as a moment of profound alliance building and a recapturing of a mythical value of inclusion.  We saw it with surprise--oh white people either just realized that black lives are cheap, or they were sufficiently bothered/bored enough to perform about it.

So much of this is a navel-gazing performance of anxiety.  2016 was traumatizing for people who didn't want to think Trumpism was America, but it IS.  And it's done in your name.  

This morning, I saw even more of this.  A friend and colleague wrote a lengthy status about her anxiety about it all and hope that 'good' would prevail, and bemoaned the lack of a real wave of change.  A friend, family member, or colleague of theirs immediately commented with pro-Trump sloganeering.  And she did nothing.  She kept commenting.  This broke me for a second.  How could she not see what a joke all of this was? What she was?  Here she was bemoaning a lack of some sort of prelapsarian goodness, trying to make some sort of "we'll get through this message," and she couldn't even see what she was doing.  There was no acknowledgment, no censuring, no pushback, no RESPONSE to the Trump sloganeering, because she could not fathom the idea that this was connected to HER.  The disappointment she felt, that so many people expressed on social media? It was performative, it was a mourning one's inability to distance oneself from genocidal, suicidal logics of all of this populist turpitude.  She couldn't even denounce the very Trumpism on her own fucking wall, in response to her comment.  Of course there was no blue wave, of course there was no rebuking.  Why should there be?  There are no consequences.  Just white folk hoping civility will save them, with the same baffling surety as King Canute commanding the waves to cease lapping at the feet of his throne.  The whole event felt like a farce--people attempting to distance themselves from a violence done in their name by refusing to even pushback against he very violence that endangers millions of people, incarcerates children, kills with impunity.

I feel, once again, like I'm the one person who felt confident for an exam during finals week.  Everyone's freaking the fuck out, performing, demonstrating a goodness, trying to foolishly imagine the country as good.  I think back to March, when black voters in South Carolina made very clear what was going to happen.  White people were not coming to save them.  Electoral legerdemain was not going to happen, there was no last minute deus ex machina.  There was the brutal calculus that many people don't see the fascism as bad, and remain so insulated that they don't care if the brute returns, so much as the lesser peoples are put in their place.  Those black voters saw that their best chance was the utter uninspiring, safe, and milquetoast flavour of whiteness, Joe Biden.  And they were right.  We can push that one, perhaps.  Make changes.  But this was always going to be a bitter slog, and at most, a close thing.  America is a bad place. We cannot redeem it through performance, through simply voting.  We don't exorcise our structural violence with selfies and dashes of ink on sealed papers.

Now that we know this, we can actually push back against the attempted voter fraud that IS happening right now, and then hope that this mediocre blue man wins.  And then maybe y'all can join us in doing the hard, daily work that also involves critically acknowledging our own complicity, investment, and inclusion in a violent, illegitimate space.  We have to live in these contradictions, to push and transform it, and remember that there are no cheat codes here.  Just grinding work, and no cookies or congratulation.

Be fucking better, y'all.