#a fun drabble

[agoobersretreat]

We’re packing lunch now?

🥪🍏🧃🥦🧁

Lunch- courtesy of a certain Eldritch woman. (Not me-)

"I guess so? Let's see what we have here~!"

"Whoa, a Monte Cristo! And toasted extra hard, just how I like it! Oooh, a honey crisp apple! They are perfectly in season, right now~! Whooooooaaaa, is that a Juicy-Juice Strawberry Kiwi juice box? Ahhh, steamed broccoli with a little bit of butter! Oh...? Oh my goodness, there's a butterscotch cupcake in here..."

One moment, she's trying her best not to absolutely wail with joy. She thanks the universe, mostly exactly who she knows sent this will just know, before digging in. Very, very happy goober noises.

(Maybe next time~?)

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

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

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

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

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

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

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[yanderedrabbles]

Cheat on me please

How to safely rid yourself of a yandere

There's no easy way to get rid of him. He's too obsessive. Too controlling. Too bloody single minded.

You tried talking through it and he just scoffed and said you were being silly. That you were just too hormonal and would calm down in a few days.

You tried going no contact and he showed up at your door. Hammered at it until the neighbours called the cops and they dragged him away.

You tried being nice about it and all he did was grab your wrist so hard it bruised. His eyes like chips of stone when he said he didn't want to hear it.

You weren't breaking up with him. You had no reason to.

And the worst part? He was right. You don't have a reason.

On paper, he's the perfect man. Attentive. Generous. Handsome. He buys you gifts, he lavishes you with attention, he's funny and charming around your friends.

And he scares you.

Not because of anything he's done. (Perfect guy, remember?) But some instinct deep inside you tells you to be careful around him.

This one's a predator, he's got claws and fangs, he'll fill you with venom and never let go, some ancient part of you insists.

But try explaining that to him. He's so mindlessly logical. He's not going to leave you because of a silly gut feeling. Come on baby, what sort of shitty boyfriend would do that?

And that's why you're down to half thought out, borderline silly plans to get rid of him. Get your hot friend to sleep with him. Catch them in the act. Throw a tantrum and finally get to break up with him.

You can't try and excuse cheating. It's abhorrent. And his logical side will surely see that, right?

One little hitch though. He's actually loyal to a fault.

Part of you finds it hard to believe. Is he really turning down your absolute bombshell of a friend? The girl all your exes were just a bit in love with?

Maybe he's just being cautious. Maybe he isn't lonely and needy enough to risk it.

So you up the stakes. Decide to avoid fucking him as much as possible. And oh boy, does it drive him crazy. He gets irritable and needy and somehow even more horny the longer your dry spell lasts.

And you know that you almost have him. He's just a man, no matter how logical he pretends to be.

You pick a fight over nothing. Blow it all out of proportion and storm out to stay with your parents for a while.

Piss him off just enough that a revenge fuck seems like a great idea.

He ends up drinking at a shitty dive bar and oh what a coincidence, your gorgeous seductress friend just happens to turn up. The last text she sends you makes it seem like she's finally hooked him and you hurry over to her apartment, feeling just a little giddy. Your plan actually worked! You feel like a goddamn genius.

And sure enough, his car is parked at her front door.

For a second, you feel a little hurt. Yes, this is the outcome you wanted. Yes, you deliberately manipulated him to get to this point. But it still feels like betrayal.

When you make it to her door, it's oddly silent for a supposed drunken hookup. But you're too geared up to notice it.

She left her door unlocked like you agreed and you tiptoe inside, your heart going a mile a minute. Her bedroom door is cracked just a little and a shaft of light cuts through the dark of the hallway.

You swing the door open with a crash, getting to ready to cuss him out.

And you freeze.

There's no guilty couple leaping away from each other, no smell of sweat and cum, no illicit rendezvous.

Instead your friend is tied to a chair, her mouth taped shut with silvery duct tape and her mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes lock onto yours and she tries to scream something through the tape.

The door clicks shut behind you.

You turn slowly. Like putting it off will make the situation less horrible, less like a dissociative dream.

Your boyfriend looks ragged. His eyes are blood shot and his hair is an unruly mess.

But the worst part is the way he smiles at you. Paternal, almost. Like he's caught you doing something naughty but he's willing to overlook it.

"Come on baby, you didn't think I'd actually cheat on you, did ya?"

His voice is condescending, but under the surface you can hear a cold, terrifying anger.

You swallow. Those same instincts that warned you about him are screaming now.

"What the hell is going on?" You demand, trying to sound angry instead of just afraid.

He steps toward you and it takes everything in you to not step away. He picks up a piece of your hair and rubs it between his fingers. Proprietary, possessive.

"What's going on? You should know babe. You're the one who tried to set me up... As though that skank over there ever stood a chance."

He tsks. "I knew something was wrong the second you stopped sleeping with me."

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting across your neck.

"I fuck you too good for you to give it up so easy."

You jerk away from him, your eyes burning like you're about to cry. How did this go so wrong?

"Are you insane? Untie her right now! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He backhands you right across the face.

He's never hit you before and the shock is almost worse than the pain. You stumble, clutching your cheek. Your face feels numb at first and then a sharp, fiery pain blooms across your cheek.

He grabs your collar and shoves you toward the bed.

"Oh baby, you're lucky I love you." His bared teeth catch the light and he looks more wolf than man.

The edge of the mattress digs into your thighs and you fall backward. You're still reeling and he has you pinned under him before you can find the strength to scramble away.

"Thought about killing her, y'know. What kind of whore goes after her best friend's man? You deserve better than that."

His grip is unyielding. A part of you always knew he was strong, but until now you didn't realise how big the gap between you actually was. His knee is between your legs and he brings it up to press against your crotch.

"But then a light bulb must have went off. And I decided to see how things played out."

He laughs and there's nothing warm or welcoming in it at all.

"All I had to do was squeeze her throat a little and..." He grabs your throat and thightens his grip until you see stars. "And she was just fallin' all over herself to tell me about your little plan."

He let's go and pats your cheek with rough little smacks. "It was cute, baby. Really was. But fucking stupid."

He leans down and kisses you. His lips are rough and he bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang of it makes you gag.

Your instincts were right. He's dangerous and you never should have tempted this monstrous part of him.

He tastes like cheap whiskey and you struggle to pull away. Your chest heaves and no matter how you buck and twist under him, he still keeps you pinned.

When he pulls away, something in your expression must please him because he hums and tilts your chin up. "But it's okay baby. We'll work through this."

He reaches down and tugs at your belt. "And I know exactly where to start."

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ bark like you want it !!

ᝰ.ᐟ in the world of sports, there's only one thing people care more about than getting hot 'n sweaty with the athletes: the girlies who are the ones these men are running home to. alternatively: a headcanon post about the hyper-specific wag!reader the bllk boys would end up with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring yoichi isagi, reo mikage, seishiro nagi, rensuke kunigami, rin itoshi author's notes since wives and girlfriends is wag + the song has been stuck in my head, i thought 'bark like you want it' was a silly, cute name for the post lol. warning that isagi's section mentions having kids!!!!

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — the girl next door !! your dynamic is: the two of you have known each other since childhood, and throughout every stage of his life and career, you've been right by his side. when isagi confesses to you shortly after scoring the winning goal of the u-20 match, he's a blushing, awkward, stuttering mess. despite his newfound fame and notoriety (which will only continue to grow), yoichi isagi is still the same boy you've spent living next door to since your elementary days. when he goes pro and becomes a world famous athlete, surrounded by models and actresses, the only girl to still give him butterflies is you. you love him for him. in every speech he has to give, he's always singing praises about you and your unconditional support and love. the wedding you two have is intimate and fairly private, although isagi can't help but post a picture of the two of you outside the obgyn clinic with the cheesy caption of "my baby is having a baby!!!! 😍😁"

the girlies love you because: you're what people think of when someone describes someone as being down to earth. your social media presence is nonexistent, save for a private instagram with less than 200 followers. you live your life in peace with a man who doesn't stress you out in the slightest — in fact, your relationship with isagi is aspirational to a lot of people. one of the number one athletes in the world and super hot 'n rich, and the only thought that rivals soccer on his one-track mind is you, his wife that he's hopelessly devoted to. you're always seen at every single one of his games, sporting his jersey, and always cheering happily when he scores. once the two of you have kids, you'll be carrying your baby (who's also sporting isagi's jersey🥹) every one of his fans that happens to run into you in public can see why isagi is so in love with you; there are only stories about how kind and sweet you are. it's why you're known as the sweetheart of the soccer wags <3

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — the ceo !! your dynamic is: an arranged marriage... gone right? you belong to a conglomerate family that runs in the same circle as the mikages. you're in the middle of starting up your own beauty brand, and you're trying to make a name for yourself. reo is occupied with his professional soccer career. neither of you want to go through with this marriage interview, but to appease your families, you two agree, not expecting that you two would match each other's freak for real. he's competitive and likes what he can't have; you're little miss independent and equally competitive. he tells you he doesn't mind the engagement, and you get your lawyers to draft a pretty prenup that'll milk him for all he's worth while keeping your assets safe. he buys you a massive engagement ring, and you ask him, "that's the best you can do?" the minute he's in control of mikage corp, he knows he'll gladly let you take the reins.

the girlies love you because: you are the corporate it girl. everyone is obsessed with your paparazzi photos that exude office siren but make it actually work appropriate. there are how-to videos on copying your style. not to mention, you're a businesswoman. every time you attend one of reo's games, you strategically reapply your beauty brand's lipgloss, or tease new products by applying said unreleased products while on camera. someone once asked you in a comment how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? to which you replied @.reomikage how does it feel to be engaged to a rich ceo? just because your man spoils you doesn't mean you put him on a pedestal. princess treatment is the bare minimum for you.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — the twitch streamer !! your dynamic is: so silly. you're the type of girl who looks good even with pimple patches on your face and your oversized glasses that you only wear because it has blue light blocking lenses on them. you're a well known streamer and got your start during the peak of fortnite (you started off being comically bad at the game, but again: you're a pretty girl. you being good would've just exploded every guys' brains), but once you got your bag secured, you started posting the content you preferred (dress to impress on roblox). everyone loves you because you're hilarious on camera, but you don't really keep up with sports, so when nagi joins your stream, everyone is going insane but you have no clue as to who he is. when they start spamming the chat about him, you ask your viewers "is he hot? no, scratch that. is he rich?" you've always been nagi's online crush & you basically made his whole entire month when you asked him to join you on your instagram live one day. the whole entire time, he's looking at you on the screen with literal hearts in his eyes, and he struggles to fight back his smile. it's so difficult for him to maintain a neutral expression, and this is the most any of his fans have ever heard him speak, and the comments can't stop talking about "how geeked bro is rn"

the girlies love you because: just like isagi's wag, you are a genuine sweetheart. you never hard launch nagi, but you do tease confirmation on your relationship. you'll wear one of his hoodies that people know is his, or sometimes you'll stream when nagi is over and people can see his shoulder in the frame or they'll hear him say something to you to make you laugh. you post pictures of your view of the field, usually captioning it with something like "damn. i could be going crazy on sims 4 rn" you're just such a fun person to watch, and people consider you + nagi to be their comfort couple (although most of the comforting energy comes from you and your antics).

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — the pilates instructor !! your dynamic is: fun and flirty, and straight out of a romcom. you're a well-known pilates instructor and in an attempt to get more girls to garner an interest in the sports channel, the network reaches out to you to see if you want to be in a humorous segment where you try to host a pilates class with some of the pro sports team. these guys are all about bulking and lifting and stamina training, and they don't really hold pilates in a high regard, so the comedy could be there. you obviously agree, and you end up teaching kunigami's team first. he can barely concentrate on the class and fumbles a few times because he's too focused on how good you look in your lululemon hot pink set. he's trying so hard to be respectful, and when you talk to him after the class, thanking him for being one of the only guys to not look down on pilates before they had to endure a session, he's trying so hard to avert his gaze because the sight of you slightly sweaty and in your workout clothes is doing something to him. you love teasing him, and the fact that he's a gentleman and still believes in chivalry makes it all the more fun.

the girlies love you because: besides making working out fun, you feature kunigami in some videos and always tease him by making up and demonstrating some freaky positions that always have him turning red in the face. you're always so considerate and supportive of your followers, and in return, they're always supportive of your own endeavors. when you come out with your own workout line, you put your boyfriend's famous name and hot body to use. he's in your marketing campaign, but honestly, the videos of him looking at you when you're wearing your own workout set is advertisement enough.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — the unbothered model !! your dynamic is: centered on the concept of private not secret. neither of you get too personal on social media; you just post aesthetic photos and sponsored content for revolve & rin's socials are managed by a team. like everyone else in the world with decent eyesight, rin's struck by your beauty. unlike most of the guys who are attracted to you, though, rin stands out. for starters, he actually has the confidence to approach you. even better: he's actually polite when he does. normally, the ones bold enough to approach you are bold and loud and kinda sleazy. rin is nothing like that. underneath both yours and his cold exterior, the two of you actually share some of the same niche interests. rin's a pretty intense person on the field and to the public, and there's not a single photo on the internet where you can be seen smiling. the aura the two of you have when paired together is insane... insanely intimidating. he's also the person you're most comfortable with and vice versa. the two of you can be messy and unfiltered and annoying with each other, and no one else.

the girlies love you because: you serve effortless cool girl. at every game you attend to watch rin, not once do the cameras catch you off guard. side profile? stunning. catching your usual neutral expression morph into concern and shock as rin gets shoved by an opponent? you still look insanely good. your hair is always done, nails are always done, your outfits are always fitted and put the other wags to shame. when girls think of iconic partners of athletes, you're always the first on their mind. there are tiktok tutorials that are trying to teach people how to emulate your energy, "[name] outfit inspo", or makeup videos trying to recreate your look. photos of you at rin's game is on every girl's "wag dream life" pinterest board, but the most popular photo is a grainy image someone managed to capture. it's taken after rin's game, and the two of you snuck off to the back of the stadium to be alone. he has his arms wrapped around your waist, and your arms are around his shoulders, and his forehead is pressed against yours and... it's the only photo where people have seen either of you smiling.

[nanaslutt]

asking jjk men if you can hold their 🍆 while they pee

ʚ incl: geto, gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, ino

ʚ cont: suggestiveness, crack

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader

having this really specific — and kind of goofy — thought about getting a tiny rubber duck as like a joke gift for your boyfriend yuuji, and him making sure it’s turned around whenever you guys fuck in the shower.

you’re having a full blown make out session and the water is hot as it runs down you both — yes, you’re squeezed together that tightly. his pink hair is dripping wet, it sticks to his forehead, and his mouth has formed into this adorable ‘o’ shape as he pants and stammers and grunts from how good your touch feels as you stroke him.

he’s got one palm pressed against the tiles that you’re leaning against, the other one is cupping your pussy. his fingers lazily circle your clit as his tongue tangles with yours; the tips nudging your warm entrance every so often and gathering the sticky arousal there before it can be washed away by the water because he knows he won’t be able to push that fat cock of his into you otherwise when the time comes for it.

however, when that time does indeed come and you hint at getting slammed, yuuji is pulling back, his honey-coloured eyes suddenly open wide. he’s still breathing like he’s just ran a marathon instead of standing in the shower and his broad chest heaves up and down as he turns his head to the side in one sharp movement; right in the direction of the spot where you both keep your shampoo bottles.

“yuuji…? what’s wrong?” you ask, eyelids still heavy with lust. it makes your vision somewhat blurry.

“just a sec,” he rasps, searching amongst the bottles. “gotta make sure we don’t have an audience.”

“an audience?” you repeat.

“yep!” he says, popping the p. “i meant this little sucker right… here.”

after a little rummaging, he finds the thing he’s been looking for: a small rubber ducky that you’d gotten him months ago as a means to cheer him up after he’d had a particularly bad day.

you watch, brow quirked in quiet amusement, as he carefully flips it around then, making sure it remains in the same exact spot, but this time with its little beak turned towards the shower wall instead of you.

he treats it with such care, like it’s made out of gold instead of plain vinyl. knowing him, he probably does see it that way and it makes you huff a laugh.

he’s just so goddamn endearing, isn’t he?

seemingly pleased with his actions, yuuji swiftly focuses his attention back to you. he smiles that beaming lover boy grin that you feel weak in the knees for, and his hands are loving but firm as he grabs you by the hips, silently urging you to press your front against the tiles instead of your back.

“okay, your turn now.”

with how hard he is, something tells you he won’t treat you as gently as he did his present.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“The first thing you need to know,” the stable master announced loudly to the gaggle of school children trailing behind her, “is that these are not unicorns.”

Eleven-year-olds tended to be loud. Their silent scepticism was deafening.

“You cannot keep unicorns in captivity,” she continued. “These are all crossbreeds, mostly with specific breeds of horses.”

There was a small murmur of curiosity and a gangly arm shot up into the air.

“Yes?”

“Only mostly horses?”

It was always fun when some of them paid close attention. “Only mostly horses. I only deal with European breeds, and they tend to cross well with horses. See this here is a cross between a grey Thoroughbred and an English Unicorn. They’re large, and reasonably docile.” They also had that champagne sheen most showy folk preferred. “For people who come here looking for a steed, this is their best bet. Although I've only ever seen it done by people who personally broke them as yearlings.”

By now she definitely had the whole class’s full attention.

“But this French Licorne cross is actually half fallow deer.” She gestured to the pasture beyond the fence. “Look at them. Slight build, slender legs, built for speed and agility. They need a lot of space but they are beautiful to look at, and they’re relatively easy to tame for the pure of heart.” There was still something distinctly deer-like about them and they were all so beautifully cream coloured that they almost took on a silver hue.

“What’s those hairy ones?” a voice piped up.

“That’s a Unicorno/Shetland mix, from central Italy. Traditionally they tend to be crossed with Monterufolino, but they are hard to come by and make their coats even darker.” Unicorni were naturally built more like ponies, some with considerably shorter horns, and their coats were often a much darker gold, or even brown. They were less flighty than the French breeds though, even if they showed blatant favouritism towards certain caretakers. They would even pull a carriage if properly motivated.

“Do you have any bigger ones?”

The stable master turned around. “What was that?”

One of the boys was standing behind her with a determined look on his face. “Do you have any like that but bigger. With the beards and the furry hooves.”

“Feathering,” she corrected automatically and the boy nodded eagerly. She frowned. “What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s really big unicorns,” he pressed. “With wild manes and tails and split hooves like the French ones but hair like those ones!”

“Buddy,” she laughed, “what you’re describing there is a Scottish unicorn and let me tell you, they cannot even be crossbred into domestication.”

The little face fell.

“Any offspring of an Aon-adharcach will be as wild as they are no one can capture them with their horn still intact, not on your life. You go near one of them with a halter and it will skewer you.”

She smiled at the boy, who still looked rather taken aback, despite this proof of his favourites superiority.

“Tell you what. If you want to see something unhinged and imposing, I’ll take you to see the Eenhoorn/Friesian cross we’ve just got in from the Netherlands.”

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (if you squint), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg, some violence (nothing major)

words. 3.3k (this kind of got away from me)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You don’t know how you got here, really.

Actually, you do. And you’re slowly regretting every decision that has led you to this moment by the minute.

But alas—here you are, watching Bakugou (or rather, his expensive ass sports car) pull over in front of your apartment.

And you’re about to say screw it and go back inside and just text him you don’t feel too well as if you weren’t just at the front door a second ago when your boss finally steps out of the driver’s seat.

Now you’ve seen Bakugou dressed up on numerous occasions. Never as his date or companion—hell, no—but you’ve witnessed him dressed up to the 9’s enough to reach the point of not getting affected at the sight of him in a suit and his hair pushed back.

But you can’t help the sudden tightness in your throat when you do see him.

He walks up to the porch and stops a few feet away from you and almost immediately, he gives you a once-over. Despite yourself, you look down at your heeled feet, suddenly feeling overly self-conscious. Or maybe it’s also to stop yourself from staring at him because damn.

And you hate yourself for it.

It’s his voice, though, that pulls you out of your hazy stupor. “Are you hopping in are we just gonna stand here all night?”

You internally roll your eyes as you follow him to his car, feet already starting to hurt even though you literally just put the heels on a few minutes ago. You’re about to open the door to the backseat when Bakugou stops you with one hand and opens the door to the passenger side with the other.

You look up at him in question, although you quickly look away, unable to keep eye contact any longer, and shuffle in. “You really don’t have to do—that—” he shuts the door, “okay.”

He rounds the hood of his car and settles on his seat soon after. As he brings the engine to life and tinkers with the Bluetooth, you take the opportunity to take in the interior of his car. Needless to say, it is immaculate—this being the first time you’ve ever been here as you’ve always declined any offer from him to drive you home.

Why is that?

You’d chalk it up to feeling uncomfortable about your boss giving you a lift, especially as the HR head, but deep inside you know it’s more because being in a small space with him (alone, especially) makes you just a tad bit crazy.

Just a bit.

Since when has this been a thing?

Shrugging off the rather unsettling thought, you intentionally bring your mind to other things, like how nice the car smells—or how your hair and makeup ended up exceeding your expectations. You’re in the middle of appreciating how smooth Bakugou’s driving is when it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Hold up—” you turn to him in horror, “you’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

At that, Bakugou’s face contorts in what you think is offense before it morphs into a snark expression, like he’s about to retort with a playful quip but decides against it last minute.

“No.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slump against your seat, relieved. You can’t believe you forgot to ask about this crucial piece of information prior to agreeing to this ruse.

A foreign kind of curiosity—the type that you haven’t felt in a while—suddenly takes seed and blooms in you, particularly about Bakugou and his romantic life. But you quickly tamp it down before you blurt out a wildly inappropriate personal question to your boss.

The second Bakugou puts the car in park, you hurriedly climb out of the passenger seat, not minding how ungraceful you look, desperate to get out of the small bubble you’ve found yourself sharing with your boss for the last hour.

Quickly scanning your surroundings, you find that there aren’t many people in the parking lot—perhaps it’s because of the fact that you’re cutting it close, which was totally not a conscious decision so that you’d spend the least amount of time at the wedding as possible—but as you two walk in silence towards the venue entrance, you start noticing it.

You feel people holding their gazes directed towards the both of you a little longer than normal. You try to shrug it off, but even as you state your name to the kind-looking lady who you believe is assigned to usher guests to their seats, you’re acutely aware that a silence has befallen upon the room and it’s your arrival that has caused it.

And you’d bet good money you saw in your peripheral vision a few do a double-take upon seeing you.

The lady doesn’t even try to hide her shock upon seeing the number two pro-hero. Eyes wide as saucers, she barely stammers out his pro-hero name in what you believe is a…question?

Bakugou, the ever-skilled PR prince that he is, merely gives her a curt and somehow pained nod, as if this exchange is yards beneath him. “That’s me. My name’s probably not on the list, though,” he gestures to you, “I’m just her plus one.”

With that, it’s as if the lady just got reminded that you were standing just right beside him and that you existed.

“Oh, of course!” Her eyes dart toward you and then back at him and suddenly her eyeballs are akin to that of the toy in a pinball machine—darting between the two of you in record speed, the gears in her head turning as if processing what the fuck this lowly guest is doing, showing up with the Dynamight to a wedding.

“Sorry,” she chuckles, probably feeling self-conscious in front of the man, “what was your name again?”

You repeat yourself with the most gracious smile you can muster. You can’t blame the woman for slightly losing her cool in front of the boss. The only reason you’re not stumbling and embarrassing yourself in front of him is because you’ve had practice.

In fact, three years and eight months worth of it.

But that practice practically flies out the window when you feel something brush against your right hand before encasing it entirely.

You look down at the point of sensation and it takes everything in you not to gawk at the sight of Bakugou’s big, firm hand wrapped around yours. You immediately whip your head to look up at him, but the guy isn’t even looking at you. Instead, he seems to be listening intently to what the lady is saying that’s a hundred percent going in one of your ears and out the other.

“…f-follow me—right this way, p-please!”

You stumble behind him as he leads you to where the lady is directing the both of you, hands still interlocked.

“What are you doing?” you hiss-whisper, keeping your voice low enough to make sure she doesn’t hear you panic.

“I’m saving your life, dumbass,” he hisses back.

Saving your life? The man is giving you a damn heart attack. And making you the target of the thousands of news outlets known to man.

“Oh, do tell me how that’s so?”

Although you can’t see his face as he’s practically dragging you forward by your now clammy appendage, you’re 99% sure he’s rolling his eyes. “It’s ‘cause people are fucking staring.”

“So naturally you have to hold my hand?”

He halts to an immediate stop and you almost collide with his backside if not for your marginally quick enough reflexes. He scowls at you over his shoulder and it shocks you to see how red he’s gotten over a reasonable question from your end.

It’s not like you just asked him why he’s number two or something.

“Yes, I do, if we want a shot at making this the slightest bit believable.”

Before you even get the chance to respond (that is, grumble at him like a petulant child because the motherfucker is making sense—like he always is), you get interrupted.

“Is everything alright?”

Both of you quickly face the lady who you find is trying not to let the concern get to her already wobbly smile.

She’s failing.

“Yeah!”

“Yup.”

At that, she nods, although she seems to be suspicious—hesitant, at best. “Well, then—these are your seats. Enjoy the wedding!”

The ceremony couldn’t have been more dragged out if they tried. They probably had a dozen technical difficulties. The flower girls who were literal toddlers refused to walk down the aisle and had to be hauled by their parents to get it done and over with. The officiator was so irritatingly loud that he didn’t even need a microphone from the sheer volume of his booming voice. And you could tell he was going over the time limit because the wedding coordinators at the perimeters of the venue were getting more and more antsy by the minute.

Bakugou, who was seated on your right, was not fairing any better. You lost count of the times his head bobbed toward you as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He’s been sleep-deprived the entire week—you knew that. A notorious villain has recently resurfaced and he and Kirishima were the police’s primary contacts for this case. Suddenly feeling guilty for having inadvertently dragged him to this snoozefest with you, you debated whether or not to tell him he can rest on your shoulder so he can get some rest but immediately decided against it because what the fuck.

Eventually, and miraculously, you get past the ceremony relatively unscathed. Well, as far as unscathed in this situation can get.

You managed to avoid your ex’s sights the entire time. Luckily, you and Bakugou were assigned at a far-away table alongside distant friends and relatives—courtesy of the bride, probably, and really, you couldn’t be more thankful. By the time picture-taking per table rolled around, you conveniently excused yourself to the bathroom and waited it out until you were sure your group’s time was up. When you sheepishly walked back to your table, Bakugou didn’t seem to be too comfortable, probably from having been left alone, but from the look in his eyes, you could tell he knew what you were doing and why you did it. Despite his appearances, he’s perceptive like that.

With only a few, necessary words exchanged between the two of you, and the occasional smiles and affectionate behavior whenever either of you felt prying eyes, you eventually find yourself finally loosening up and relaxing.

In contrast to the past few hours in which you were evidently tense and barely managed to join in on small talk around you, you’re now actually conversing with your table-mates who, thankfully, haven’t asked you how you were related to the bride and groom.

Bakugou probably notices this change in demeanor because you spot him eyeing you with a serious look on his face before cooly looking away as if you didn’t just catch him studying you.

Before you can think much of the expression on his face, the young woman seated across from you who you’ve gotten to know as Kairi says your name, effectively snapping you out of thought.

Right before dousing you with ice water with a supposedly innocent question.

“Sorry—what?”

She chuckles harmlessly, paying no mind to your reaction. “I said, how do you know the bride and the groom?”

Shit.

“I—uh,” against your will, you chance a look at Bakugou who’s already looking at you with a seemingly neutral expression, although you’ve been around him long enough to see the traces of panic adorning his features.

A few more seconds pass by in silence before you decide to just tell the truth.

You laugh, although it comes out a bit stilted. “I’m actually an ex-girlfriend…”

Unsurprisingly, everyone at the table goes quiet at your admission, before they seemingly remember to put up appearances by laughing good-naturedly with you.

“Well, good on you for showing up!” Kairi says, giving you a thumbs up. The rest of the group pack on their agreement and support. She eyes Bakugou with a mischievous grin, “And with precious cargo, too.”

Her friends elbow her in chastisement, and you can’t help the flush that takes over your face at her unabashed flirting. You chance a glance at the man in question, only to find him acting like he couldn’t give a single fuck.

You’re about to pipe up with a genuine compliment in Bakugou’s way, lest they end up thinking you don’t agree that “your man” is fine as fuck (and isn’t this the part where a person is supposed to brag about their partner?) when a silence befalls upon your table again.

Only this time is more awkward than the last.

“What..?”

You follow Kairi’s line of vision and turn to look at the thing behind you that’s caught their attention only to find yourself face-to-face with him.

He exclaims your name—like he’s delighted to see you—before scooping you up and bringing you into his arms.

You collide with his chest with an unceremonious ‘oof’ and despite yourself, you toss Bakugou a look (cry) for help over the guy’s shoulder.

And like the hero that he is, Bakugou stands up smoothly, buttoning his suit all the while.

Clearing his throat, he shoots your ex a stony glare while offering a hand to shake. “Good to meet ‘ya. I’m Bakugou, her boyfriend.”

A whirlwind of emotions dances across the guy’s face before they finally settle into one that causes scalding shame to stir within your gut: utter disbelief.

“My bunny got herself a boyfriend?” You cringe at the sound of your old pet name, and Bakugou’s glare turns even colder at the mention of it. You try to ignore the hurt that’s springing in your chest at your ex’s incredulous tone.

The guy’s eyes dart between the two of you before they finally settle on your boss. “And that person is you?”

As if he couldn’t get higher on the asshole meter, your ex drops his head back as he howls in laughter, as if he just heard the funniest joke ever. You feel your face flame in humiliation, and it’s as if you get possessed for the next few seconds.

Because in the blink of an eye, you find yourself clenching your fist so hard and bringing it up to the asshole’s face, where it collides with his jaw with a loud crack.

Almost instantaneously, you recoil and bring your hand back to yourself because that shit hurt, and fuck, you just punched a guy.

At his wedding.

You don’t know what comes over you because the first thing you do is not apologize to the guy who’s writhing in pain on the floor or look at the people who are most probably already watching the scene. No, the first thing you do is whip to look at Bakugou, who’s now grinning at you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your purse with one hand, Bakugou’s hand with the other, and toss your dickhead of an ex a ‘have a great rest of your wedding’ before beelining out of there and straight to the car of the man whose hand you’re holding.

“I—”

“Nope.”

“You—”

“No.”

“Just—”

“Shut the fuck up, Bakugou.”

At your crass words, Bakugou takes his eyes off the road to look at you in amused disbelief (or, at least you think so—you’re only looking at the man through your periphery; you’re too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eyes right now).

“Woah, there, princess,” you can hear him smirking. “Not sure that’s how you want to talk to your boss.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you fix your gaze to your right, itching to get out of the car. “I thought you were my date tonight. You can’t be both at the same time. That—that just doesn’t sit right with me. You know, as the HR head of your agency?”

The man merely snickers in response, and you’re lulled into a comfortable silence.

Before he decides to speak again.

“‘Have a great rest of your wedding,’” he chuckles to himself as he stops at a red light. “Classic.”

You turn to regard him, having had enough. “Do you mind? I’m kind of having a crisis here.”

At that, he snorts. “Over what? You just had the best payback in history.”

You ignore him, opting to bury your face in your hands instead as you wail, “I punched a guy at his wedding.”

“Damn straight, you did.”

You gape at him like he just grew horns. “I’m sorry, were you not there? In case you forgot, Mr. Dynamight, you were technically my date. You’re guilty by association.”

Just as he is about to respond, the traffic light quickly turns to yellow then green, and you take it as an opportunity to keep rambling.

“And practically everyone there knows you. Shit, Mikuri-san is going to kill me.”

“Tadashi Mikuri? From PR?”

“Yes,” you seethe, although you know Bakugou has done nothing wrong to be at the receiving end of your shame-induced anger. You groan, “This is going to be a nightmare to clean up.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything after that, and you have to restrain yourself from poking at him to say anything—anything, really—to assure you that no, everything is going to be okay, and that no, your career or reputation is not over.

Eventually, and without you noticing, you pull up in the driveway of your apartment. Heaving a deep sigh, you will yourself to finally keep your chin up and face whatever the fuck is waiting for you tomorrow head-on, even if you were going to do it alone. Grabbing your purse and phone, you’re about to thank him and say good night when Bakugou reaches over the console and places a hand over yours.

“I—” he starts, and you look at him expectantly, trying not to seem weird about the contact.

He clears his throat before giving you the most reassuring nod, “I’ll take care of the press. Don’t worry about it.”

Before you can ask him how the hell he’s planning to go about that, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me how. Just—” he finally looks at you, “trust me.”

You can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod back.

The next morning, you wake up on the relatively right side of the bed for once until the events of yesterday come crashing down on you like an unprecedented avalanche, effectively robbing you of your good mood.

You chance a peek at the phone on your nightstand, debating whether or not to throw it away and religiously avoid social media for the rest of your days. After what feels like an hour, however, you decide against it and pick the gadget up.

Only to be met with 57 texts, 23 missed calls, and 300+ notifications on your Twitter and Instagram accounts each.

Your stomach sinks as the feeling of dread instantly washes over you. Overwhelmed, you click on one familiar message thread you have with your best friend.

(11:46 PM) bestie<3: girlllll (11:46 PM) bestie<3: what the actual FUCK pick up your phone (11:47 PM) bestie<3: NOT YOU PUNCHING THAT DOUCHEBAG (11:47 PM) bestie<3: and since when have you been dating dynamight??? HELLOOOO??? (11:47 PM) bestie<3: when were you planning to tell me all of this bc im lowkey salty (11:51 PM) bestie<3: girl…. you have to see this (11:51 PM) bestie<3: (see link)

Your fingers are practically trembling when you click on the link, and in hindsight, you’re glad you’re on your bed because what you see next makes you drop your phone:

BREAKING: #2 Pro-hero Dynamight seen at a wedding, alleged “date” punches the groom

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a lovely day!

[ervotica]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog — a.donaldson

pairing; older!art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; roughly written, badly edited, not beta’d (because when is it ever?), allusions to smut, implied age gap (reader is early 20s, art is early 30s), slight tashi x fem!reader if you squint, infidelity (but tashi is kinda cool with it), just some thoughts about older!art and his pretty girl

a/n; this concept has been eating at me for daysss so i had to write it at least roughly! should we make this a series? (maybe get patrick involved?🫢) let me know what you think! ART & CHALLENGERS (poly!art & patrick) REQUESTS ARE OPEN! any questions / conversation starters about this particular au are highly appreciated and encouraged!! please come to my inbox 📥 <3

older!art is fucking obsessed with you— you, who comes to every one of his matches, who sits next to his wife in those adorable little tennis skirts you sport just for him, who whoops and cheers from the stands whether he wins or loses.

you’re forbidden fruit. so, naturally, he adores you.

tashi knows, because of course she does. she never pries, never so much as spares you a second glance when he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck and huffs hot air against the shell of your ear. she doesn’t care — you’ve made art better at tennis.

his confidence has skyrocketed since having a pretty thing like you cheering him on, his biggest and most enthusiastic supporter. he plays better, he second guesses himself less, he’s more relaxed.

you’re what’s been missing. the last piece of the puzzle.

an obedient little thing, glued to his side, wagging like a dog at his every command.

he fucking loves it. loves having someone relying on him for love and validation. loves the way you preen under his fervent gaze and flutter your lashes at the slightest touch.

when tashi asks you to join art’s team officially, you almost keel over.

“look, i don’t care that he’s fucking you… or that he’s in love with you. he has a shot at the us open this year, and he needs you by his side to do it.” she says. you’re quick to agree, ever obedient and desperate to please.

“he’s in love with me?”

she scoffs. “you’ve seen the way he looks at you. he almost creams his pants every time you’re in the same room as him.” she tilts your chin upwards with a crooked finger, giving your cheek an affectionate - albeit condescending - pat.

“you two can have your fun— but he has to win this year.”

art’s perched against the doorframe when you turn, corded forearms crossed over his chest. you scrunch your nose, pushing back a smile that crinkles at your eyes despite your efforts.

fucking smitten.

tashi rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she nudges you towards him.

“go on.”

he opens his arms in greeting and you’re quick to fall into them, your fingers knotting in the shorn hair at his nape. his chest expands beneath your own as he takes a long breath, and he presses his nose to your pulse point, shuddering.

“love you.” he murmurs into your skin.

“love you more.”

he could cry; he doesn’t remember the last time someone told him they loved him and meant it. you’re obsessed with him, almost as much as he is with you.

at his next match, you carry his rackets and send him off with a good luck kiss that has him breathless, grinning as you roll his wad of gum between your teeth that you sucked right from his waiting mouth.

he wins.

how could he not with his pretty girl watching?

and that night, he rewards you with a thorough fucking, whispered love confessions against your lips, and a breathy moan as he cums that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

so, yeah. maybe this life isn’t so bad, after all.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister…  

18+ mdni!

c/w: icky themes, incest, dubcon, oral (m receiving), rafe being a perv about his (adopted) sister & her being inexperienced   

wc: 1.7k

if this is something you don’t like pls scroll, read something else & leave me alone xx   

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

Her big brother has always been rather overbearing, which is something she’s tried to shrug off as him merely being protective, but as far as her understanding of siblings goes— they aren’t supposed to act the way Rafe does.  

Ever since they were little, Rafe has been weird about everyone in their strange family, but sometimes it makes her feel gross when he barges into her room while she’s changing— not even bothering to cover his eyes as he sits down on her mattress and starts ranting about something completely irrelevant.

It makes her feel disgusting when she notices the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth as his gaze narrows down onto whatever bare sliver of skin she’s hurriedly trying to hide from his borderline hungry eyes.   

And she doesn’t particularly enjoy when he gets wasted or high off of whatever he’s snorted at some stupid party and insists that he just has to sleep next to her because he’s not feeling good. And despite her drowsy complaints, he’s always snuggling too close for comfort with his hands all over her; pulling her flush against him and letting the cushion of his lips graze the skin of her neck.

He keeps telling her that it’s nothing out of the ordinary when he gives her details about the girls he’s slept with and what his favorite positions are, even if she’s told him multiple times that she doesn’t want to know. And whenever they’re home alone, he even goes as far as bringing girls to his room— making sure their loud moans echo right into her bedroom when he knows she’s trying to study.   

And whenever he’s tagging along during her little shopping trips (he doesn’t let her go alone because ‘what if something happens?’), he always demands on joining her in the fitting rooms— even squeezing himself into the crammed space when she’s trying on lingerie, claiming that she absolutely needs his opinion.   

“Rafe, that’s weird,” she tries to get him to wait outside but of course he merely rolls his eyes.  

“S’not weird, know how indecisive you can be, jus’ wanna help,” he says, seemingly genuine while he’s already fiddling with the clip of her bra.   

And she feels her cheeks burning when the cashier mentions how sweet it is that her boyfriend is paying for her clothes— to which Rafe merely chuckles while she can’t find the words to correct the poor woman because she’d probably faint if she learned the truth about their relationship.

More often than not, he tends to be borderline territorial. One time, she’s simply talking to a guy at some party, when all of a sudden, she feels an all too familiar presence behind her.

“Who’s this, hm?” he slurs, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulder.   

“Oh, it’s…um, no one,” she peeps out because she knows how he is. However, her attempts at calming him down prove to be fruitless because he’s already approaching the guy with a scoff.   

“You, uh, you do know that this is m’sister, right? Mine. So, why don’t you, uh, go ‘n try to impress some other bitch, yeah?” he offers him a sickly-sweet smile, voice harsh before telling her they’re leaving— strong hands on her waist already dragging her towards his truck.

“I was having fun,” she complains when he’s putting the seatbelt on her— his breath smelling of beer when he drawls out a reply. “You can have all the fun you want with me when we get home, yeah?”   

“But I wanted to spend time with my friends,” she pouts.   

“That’s just too bad then, isn’t it?” he murmurs while starting the engine— resting a warm palm on her thigh soon after, ignoring her efforts of shrugging it off.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

When he learns that she hasn’t had her first kiss yet (because why would anyone even think about touching her when they know Rafe is a complete psycho), he mocks her to the point of her eyes growing glossy as she tries to blink away the soggy droplets.

“S’okay, you wanna get it over with, hm? I’ll help you,” he so kindly offers with faux concern glimmering in the moonstones of his eyes.   

“Rafe, that’s gross,” she frowns, to which he merely furrows his brows before scoffing— as if she’s the one being weird.   

“So, uh, so you tellin’ me you want some…some stranger at a party who only wants to get in your pants to do it instead?” he narrows his eyes as if that’s the only alternative.  

“N— no,” her answer is hesitant.  

“Listen, m’just…m’just, tryna be a good brother ‘n help my little sister out, but if you don’t want m’help then don’t come cryin’ to me when you embarrass yourself cause you don’t even know how to kiss,” he lifts his hands up in surrender before shrugging, suggesting that he’d merely be doing her a favor.   

And before her brain has the time to process what’s happening, he’s already dragging her into his lap. And it feels wrong when their mouths are suddenly slotting together— when he’s letting out a shallow groan and slipping his tongue past her teeth without so much as a warning.

“Rafe! You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that,” she squeaks out, pulling away with her face all crumpled up, feeling disconcerted.   

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up everyone, thought you wanted to learn?” he mutters out before he’s smearing his mouth on hers once more— this time with a tight grip on her jaw that forces her to stay put as the the kiss turns into something sloppy; wet.

And afterwards, he makes her promise that she won’t tell anyone because ‘you don’t want dad to get mad at you, do you?’ and even if she feels guilt eat away at her, she keeps it to herself because the last thing she wants is to upset anyone. 

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

“Rafe guess what? I have a date tomorrow,” she gives him a giddy smile while stepping into his room a few weeks later.  

“With who?” he eyes her while slouching on his bed, seemingly in the midst of texting someone.

“This guy I met on the beach today,” she sits down on the edge of the mattress when he places his phone on his nightstand.

“Yeah? What’s his name?” he asks, shifting closer.  

“Um, Ethan.” 

“Last name?”  

“I— I don’t know, didn’t ask…why does it matter? Was just wondering if you could drive me there?” she says, surprised by his sudden interest. 

“Where?” his tone sounds almost exasperated now, as if she’s done something bad.

“Um, we’re just gonna hang out at his house,” she chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous.

“You havin’ a date at his house? You finally gonna lose that virginity, huh?” he asks as patronizing laughter bubbles from his chest.

“What? No! S’not like that,” she mumbles, her skin already boiling. 

“No? You do know when guys say they wanna hang out, it means they wanna fuck, right? You’re not that stupid, are you?” his gaze is borderline condescending when he raises his brows.

“Well, he’s not like that, he seems nice,” she tries to defend herself, feeling small all of a sudden.

“Sweetheart, every guy’s like that, especially the ones that seem nice, you’re so fuckin’ naive,” he scoffs while running a hand through his hair.

“You know what? Forget about it, I’ll just walk there,” she huffs out, standing up to leave, however, she doesn’t get far before he’s grabbing at her arm.

“Listen, m’just tryna look out for you, okay? Don’t feel like dealin’ with your shit ‘bout how he broke your heart. I mean, if you’re not gonna let him hit, he’s gonna be expectin’ somethin’ else, you know that, right?”

She swallows.

“I— are you sure? But…but I don’t even know how to—” 

“Poor baby, what would you do without your big brother, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you, yeah?” he coos before pinky promising he’ll be gentle.

And that’s how she ends up on her knees in front of him. 

“Ray, this doesn’t feel…right,” she mumbles out, eyes focused on the ruddy tip he’s thumbing over while he stares at her.

“Shh, can be our little secret, yeah? Jus’ wanna make sure my little sister doesn’t embarrass herself,” he lets out a grunt when she blinks up at him with uncertain eyes.

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” he instructs while moving closer to her tentative form, biting his lip when she gingerly does what he tells her to. Then, he’s thudding the drippy head on the flat of her tongue— one, two, three times, which makes her let out a noise; something that only seems to spur him on.

He tastes salty and she doesn’t necessarily mind it, which makes her feel entirely too gross about the situation altogether— the words ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore’ turning into a tangled muddle when he’s already pushing past her lips, making her gag around the sudden intrusion.

“Shit, tha’s good, jus’ take it, yeah?” he rumbles out; a big hand holding the back of her head as he stuffs himself deeper down her throat— cock twitching in response to her whines and attempts at drawing away for air.

It overwhelms her to no end when he’s so rough, abrasive, but despite his broken promise, she’s unable to prevent her thighs from pressing together when throaty moans keep escaping him; his respiration turning labored by each lazy rut of his hips while her head begins to spin.

Only when his sticky cum gushes onto her tongue— the white substance dribbling past the seam of her lips and covering her chin in the process, does he grant her a moment to catch her breath.

“Guys like it when you swallow,” his voice is like gravel when he pushes at her jaw, heady gaze glued to the way her throat bobs when she does just that, the aftertaste of what they’ve done making her feel stained; dirty.

“You know, s’cute you thought I’d let some, some shithead fuck my sister,” he sounds almost humored as he pats at the flushed skin of her cheek— making her eyes turn watery when he swipes a thumb under her wobbly bottom lip to clean up the remaining mess.

She feels something in her guts churn when he tucks it back into her mouth with a sick smile.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

[ruenii]

Tim, [pointing his staff at the human traffickers]: YOU ARE OUTGUNNED

Jason, [hyping him up]: WHAT?

Tim: OUTMANNED!

Jason: WHAT?!

Tim: OUTNUMBERED OUTPLANNED

Jason: PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!

Tim: PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN ON MY COMMAND

Jason: HAND EM OVER!!

Tim: THIS IS HAMILTON MY RIGHT HAND MAN!

Jason, [getting his guns out]: PWO PWO PWO PWO PWO-

Goons: *shaking* what the FUCK are Batman feeding his partners--