#and for me with my already shitty rib cage

[prettyboysmlm]

myyyyyyy ribs hurt :)

[yoinkschief]

Content Warning: Nudity (Nothing explicit or sexually motivated)

Also there's a gigantic fucking rant under here about this bastard I did NOT plan for it to be so long and I have this sinking fear the others will be just as, if not longer

Take this traditional ref sheet because I can't be bothered to make it digital right now

Sheet Translations and explanations cause I have shitty handwriting:

7'2"

Used to be 5'8" but you know how that goes XP

Whoag! He's tall! Seem experimentation can go a long way :)

★Strip/Mafia Tord is the only version of Tord who wears earrings anymore

I used to always draw Tord with earrings, specifically dangling earrings with upside down crosses on them, but more recently I've stopped doing that and instead draw him with only a tongue piercing that him, Tom and Edd all have matching (they tried to convince Matt to also get one but he was worried about it ruining his teeth), so as a way to homage to my previous design and because it fits him too well I gave him diamond studs :)

Hearing aid [picture]

Tord wears a hearing aid! On top of his eye sight being fucked in his right eye and not what it used to be in his left, his hearing also is shot! He needed a hearing aid on his right ear and on top of his processing issues from his ADHD he can't hear as well as he used to in his left ear (not that his loud bass music taste ever really helped)

Has no waist, giving the illusion he has hips (he doesn't)

Shawty's got no hips and no ass, the only meat he has is in his massive bohongas and the only meaty claw he has left, he already had a triangular shape what with his big ass rib cage and zero hips but going to the military made him even more top heavy so now he's even more triangle

Screen [picture]

His robot arm has a screen on it that's basically an apple watch but better because I fucking hate apple,,,, and yes it does say OPPAI on it, it's an inside joke between me and my lovely partner :)

Spectator Shoes [picture]

Because I think he would wear them, and it's a silly nod to his constant need to be in the spotlight and not sitting on the sidelines: that was the whole reason he left to go to the military in the first place, he was sick of being "Edd's friend" and not "Tord" if that makes sense, he needed an out (and just from personal experience of having people I know go to ROTC and/or join the military fresh out of highschool, it's a good wake up call for some, and a horrible fucking power trip for others,,, don't really know how that last one happens when the whole point is to get you to cry to your mom and beg to go home but hey, to each their own I suppose)

[picture] Power Core

Serves to connect to Tord's nerves, forming it into power to move his arm with

The logistics behind this are loose at best and a goofy thought I had at worst, but basically it's something like the workings inside of the bionic arm connect Tord's nervous system to the core which then converts his thought energy/brain's commands into actual movement, which is why he has one at his shoulder (to connect the nerves) and one on his hands (to connect to The rest of his arm, think of it as like the two power cores being connected via invisible string that gets manipulated to pull his hand up, down, to the side, and so on, and the bicep and forearm connected with the elbow allow it to bend more naturally). That's the best way I can explain it

[picture] The coat he wears on his shoulders,,, meant to pay homage to the coat he wears in his 2004 design

Pretty self explanatory, but since he doesn't have his OG coat (because Edd now wears it, more on that when I get to his ref sheet) this is what he's wearing, a big ass mob coat with gold trim as the accents,,,, I spent way too long drawing Zenigata's mandatory oversized detective/inspector trench coat to not somehow find a way to bring it to someone else's design

OMG! He nakey!

Yup. I'm very mature.

Dragon Tattoo [pictures]

Ahh the infamous dragon tattoo HC,,, at least I think it's infamous- I've seen a lot of people with it so, lol. Additionally, he also has a tattoo of Jason Voorhees' mask at the base of his neck/top of his spine, but it's covered by his hair so I didn't think to add it but there's a very cute story behind it: Tord used to have a snake (he bought it as a ball python,,, it was not,,, it was a reticulated python, and he only found out when he didn't stop growing) who he so lovingly named Voorhees because he was white with a grey splotch on his face that Tord swore looked exactly like Jason's mask, so, he got a tattoo to match with his pet snake. Like a queer.

✨Trans✨

I will never miss the opportunity to make Tord trans masc I love him so

[picture] Leads with his chest

Machismo or something, I dunno, but he has the cocky confidence of a bastard type air around him and so in later years he starts leading with his chest after he goes to the military, versus his past, more laid back, lead with his hips. And by laid back I mean both he was more "devil may care" and trying to get laid, because he's got the libido of a dog in a heat thinking he was doing something leading with his hips because all the snoody whores do it in his anime and he hasn't touched grass since he was in college,,, boy howdy was that military a good idea to knock some sense into him (even if that did come with giving him an excuse to be even more power hungry and that much more of an attention whore)

Still has no ass

Yeah. No amout of drills can give him muscle there, and trust that he's tried (mostly out of spite because Tom always made fun of him for having a flatter ass then Matt, a literal twink with scrawny limbs,,, though you shouldn't let that fool you, he's far too strong for how thin he looks. Anyway look at how that turned out: it didn't lmao)

Ouroboros Tramp Stamp

Another fun story to tell :) so, back when Tord lived with Edd and the gang, he got super hyperfixated on Vikings and their symbolism and artworks and whatnot (he recently rewatched all of the How to Train Your Dragon movies and it lead him down a rabbit hole leading him to want to learn more of his ancestry seeing as most Norwegians came from vikings,,, if I remember correctly, do correct me if I'm wrong) and texted them about what Viking tattoos they should get: Tom's was the Viking rune for "Wolf", Matt's was the Yggdrasil, and I can't remember what Edd's was. The reason Tom was Wolf because it just fits him, he's got that "lone wolf" energy to him but he's just a dork who enjoys being around his friends whether he'd say that to their faces or not, and he's fiercely loyal to them to the point where it anyone would be the first to die for their friends in the group it would be him. Matt's is the Yggdrasil because,, well I can't really explain this one, it's just cause it fits really, I dunno how to explain it. Tord is ouroboros because mmmmm the snake that eats itself is just fucking spot ON for Tord, and having it as a tramp stamp is the sweet cherry on top, self destructive habits and a drive to run himself into the ground to satisfy his insatiable need. Tord has no idea if the others got these tattooed on them (they did, and to everyone's surprise Matt also got a tattoo,,, though no one knows that any of the others got their tattoo save for them knowing Tord got his cause duh)

An interesting thing to note if you want is that often times people will get a tattoo of Ouroboros surrounding the Yggdrasil, so you could say Matt and Tord kind of have matching tattoos. And for the storyline, that can be seen as important

Also fun fact: Tord's original tattoo was supposed to be the symbol for lightning as a way to nod at the fact his name "Tord" is a shortened version of "Torden", at least in my headcanon, which means "Thunder" in Norwegian,,, but then I found out that symbol has become a N*zi dog whistle and by god this man does NOT need any more fucking N*zi symbolism in his design can we fucking stop with that. Besides, ouroboros is much better anyway, I think

EDIT: I REMBER NOW - Edd's tattoo was the Web of Wyrd due it being created by the Nords, the Norse mythos' equivalent to the fates, the symbol representing fate and the fact that your past actions have consequences on your future (something something obligatory EDDS-world joke and WTFuture joke) but yeah Edd's got this one like how the others do

- Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In!

Will Wood + The Tapeworms

- Dogs // Still Bummed

nouns

- BAD LUCK!

Jhariah

- Selfish Hate

JAWNY

Just some songs I was listening to while drawing that I thought fit him a bit and the vibes I was going for, I highly recommend you listen to these songs if you haven't already,,, P.S. for everyone who loved Panic! At The Disco when the band was still together and before Brendon started writing his own lyrics, ruining his voice and came to light to be a piece of shit, I HIGHLY recommend Jhariah, he's him but so much better I fucking love his dogs, his albums give the same vibes as the Vices & Virtues and A Fever You Can't Sweat Out albums,,, and I couldn't help myself I love Will Wood holy shit

Time for an info dump about Tord in this AU,,, be prepared it's so fucking long this has been stuck in my head for forever pleASE-:

Obviously, The End Part 1 & 2 are canon in this series, but Tord has absolutely zero regrets about it - he can't, otherwise all the work he's done is for naught,,, although it wasn't planned; his original plan WAS to move back in with Edd, settle down and continue his operations in London with his buds without them ever knowing cause he missed them, however, they got to nosey and so he had to abort with what he was hoping to have finished (the giant robot) but was unable to due to, well, Tom

"but how come Tord was trying to kill Tom, then, if this wasn't what was planned?" Because it was fucking funny, Kyle/ref,,,, also because as a side note: Tom canonically cannot die, or at least, hasn't found anything that can yet and he's not at the old age for that yet. He has what I like to call "Deathly Immortality", or "Cartoonish/Looney Toons Immortality" where he "dies", but then comes back like nothing happened and no one mentions it as any different

Tord has something similar, as well, but instead it's more of "Unfortunate/Spiteful Immortality" or "Anime Immortality" in the sense of where Tom dies and pops back up like a toon character, Tord is like an anime antagonist who just won't die, like William Afton he always comes back but in worse and worse state (He also got sick an ungodly amount in his youth until his body was like fuck it and actually gained an immune system for every illness he kept getting lmao,,, pollen still wrecks his ass though)

Afterward The End Part 1 & 2, Tord poured his full attention into his mob, experiments, and his projects, the thing he was basically trying to use his friends as a front for before Tom got too smart, since he was having trouble not being homesick for his previous life before he went to the army and got power hungry,,, guess you can't be homesick for something that doesn't exist anymore LMAO, anyway- in pouring himself into his work, he buys an "entertainment building", as he calls it, to launder his money: Midnite. Because he thinks he's clever or something misspelling Midnight. Midnite is basically like, all sorts of things rolled into a skyscraper, each floor has a different thing: A restaurant, a casino, an arcade, a strip club, wink wink nudge nudge, but basically this is where he holds meetings and such with his money laundering

Strip/Mafia takes place I'd say... Three? Years after The End? Long enough for Tord to get way too much shit done but short enough that bitter feelings are still felt between the gang for Tord and from Tord

Yes TomTord is canon, but let me tell you this is god's slowest candle wick, because Tom fucking GOES THROUGH IT in this story man, cause everyone's going every which direction, suddenly changing and leaving and he hates it in general because mmm parental issues of dead parents who left too early, the fact that he's autistic and fucking hates sudden changes, the fact Tord is alive is enough to piss him off, it's just all around not a good time for him and so the TomTord is very Tord sided. He's always had a fascination with Tom since highschool, but didn't really understand what it was until he had to be told to his face by who was supposed to be his significant other 💀 but Tord enjoys Tom because he truly is the only one who was able to keep him on his toes in his youth as he got older it grew deeper and he gained a bigger appreciation for Tom and his knack for always being able to throw Tord off his guard,,, to be fair though that's mostly because Tord relies on his quick wit, luck, and the gullibility of others; he's not really good at long term planning and thinking versus Tom who is amazing at pattern recognition and planning long term and for this that could go wrong, in other words, thinking and planning ahead

Additionally, Edd sided TordEdd, too, because love triangles or something, except they both are like bordering narcissistic personality disorders so it really would not be good for either of them to get into a relationship with each other, not that Tord really wants to (anymore? He kinda had a thing for Edd in highschool at the beginning but fell out of it pretty quickly, which, fun fact, is an ADHD thing: Edd gave him instant gratification and euphoria so, like people with ADHD tend to do, he fixated on it, but slowly fell out of it once he stopped thinking with his excitement about having a new friend who actually paid attention to him), but Edd is CONVINCED Tord is just doing all of this for attention from him like he's begging Edd to "save him" (he's definitely not) because Edd "doesn't have a savior/hero complex, stop telling people that omlll" so that's always fun

Errr trying to think of more to say without just writing out an entire book or just showing pictures of the OG script I wrote for it JGXXGJJXG

Feel free to ask any questions oml this AU is stuck in my head I seriously can't keep it contained any longer

OH

Drag/Street racing exists and is a big(?) part of this lmao,,, I mean kinda, it kicks off Tom slowly beginning to rekindle his feelings for Tord and shows Tom's relationship with Paul and Patryck from when they met in college along with Tord

Hooo boy college alone would be a lot to explain, so much shit happened in college but it technically isn't super important to the story? Besides the Paul and Patryck meeting Tom and Tord thing, ofc, but like what happened in college follows my general timeline headcanon of Eddsworld and it's a lot to explain when most of it just gives reason as to why Tom and Tord hate each other/bicker a lot when they move in together and gives a more in depth reading of their relationship and behaviors, moreso as to why they fell into stuck a pitiful state (butterfly affect baby, ONE action called them to both fall over the edge)

Also, I have a list of people I've based/referenced for Tord as Red Leader and it goes as follows:

Gustavo Fring - Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul

Professor Venomous - O.K. K.O., Let's Be Heroes!

Lord BoxMan - O.K. K.O., Let's Be Heroes!

Bill Cipher - Gravity Falls

Dr. Robotnik - Sonic Franchise

Yes I'm aware how chaotic that listing is lmao, but to be fair when I think Red Leader I think calculated and cunning like Fring and Venomous, but also stupid loony silly like BoxMan,, and of course a menace to society like Cipher and Robotnik

That's all for Tord I believe,,, I'll do more soon I'm sure

One last Tord appreciation:

Have I expressed how much I love drawing people's torsos, I think they're gorgeous

[listening505]

 nightcall | james hetfield

part6:  "but have no fear"

other parts

Oh, James, we were afraid of nothing when we were together.

~

"Sorry beautiful." Then you slammed your fist on the door once more, slowly. "I'm sorry, Amelia. All earth and sky, and even God as my witness, I'm sorry."

You were a liar, James. You were an asshole. Saying you're sorry after doing all those shitty things didn't help, you knew that too, but we both didn't know why you were still banging on my door.

How many times have you sworn to me? How many times have you begged me to believe in your love and how many times have you lined up all your lies to my face without any hesitations? Can you count, James, because I've already stopped counting.

We could never get better, James. Our bed could never be painted with the scent of our love. I couldn't blindly surrender myself to you again, after all those brutal stab wounds you stabbed me in the back. You knew these were facts as clear as daylight, didn't you? But I didn't know. At the time, I saw these facts as a distant possibility of us and the future of our love, which I  thought was bulletproof.  How stupid I was. How blind was I? And why didn't you stop chasing after me and somehow get on with my life, James? What could I have done to you so bad?

Oh, James. I'm sure you didn't know the answer to all these questions either, but you knew that I would always believe in you and that was enough. Even if you woke up dozens of times in other women's beds, you would never doubt the solidity of that throne in the middle of my rib cage. Maybe it would be shaken, damaged and cracks would form, but weren't you using your sweet mouth primarily these days? Your kisses, your warm breath, your wet lips, and your sentences that sound like they were stolen from a poet; These were enough to get everything done.

Here you were again, smiling with the triumph of sitting on your unshakable throne.

I didn't even know when I opened the door when your fingers found their way through my hair as one hand slid up my chin. Pressing your lips to my forehead, which were wet with tears you had no mind to shed, you apologized again, repeatedly; you said that you would love me forever.

This is why I apologize the most to myself, James, for believing in you every time.

[espressodepressogirl]

It's been 3 years since I posted here but heeere we fucking go.

First off, holy shit the app has changed and after ten long fucking years they finally added a read more option into the app. About fucking time.

Anyway, existential crisis hours on deck.

Like all my blood tests are coming back as fucked as ever. Somehow my imaging said my liver is fine. Yay, I guess, but the whole area hurts like a mother fucker. I don't get how they excuse that shit, but I have to assume they're using statistics and it's likely I have a thinner rib cage than average, so even though my liver is on the larger end of acceptable it's just too large for what my body can accommodate. The tech that did it said she can see it's enlarged enough to impact my heart and breathing, but whoever officially signed off said it's okay. Who the fuck knows.

My bloodwork is as fucked as ever. Since the hepatitis came back negative that's one issue that's knocked off the list, but my levels they're monitoring are so fucked. So far I'm coming up negative for illnesses that can be tested for, but that leaves no answers for how I got here. My strongest guess is that it's based on my medication, but aside from my mounjaro shot everything else was out of my system by the time I took my blood tests.

Also I don't even know if this is necessarily based on my medication. The meds I was given are standards for my situation. Mounjaro to help the pre diabetic symptoms and weight loss, metformin for blood sugar, birth control pills to prevent cramping, and spironolactone to act as an androgen blocker. All super standard to take together for PCOS. I don't necessarily understand how they could have lead to these issues. At most maybe the metformin since I had a back reaction to another version, but who fucking knows.

The doctors are just releasing all my test results to me without talking to me first. I just keep seeing all the bad shit and I'm wondering why they aren't calling me or giving me a heads up. Right now I'm captain of the Google team trying to see what's possibly going on. All I can really gain is that I either have fatty liver issues, an infection of some sort that's not been available through a blood test, super lactic acidosis from the metformin, or non drinking based cirrhosis. All of which I have no idea how to address. The metformin one should have been resolved already since the body metabolizes it out in a few days, so my tests on 7/14 shouldn't have been worse than 7/5 when I stopped taking metformin on 7/7.

Aside from the cause, which is basically a null point, I don't know what to do. I feel as shitty as ever all the time. It feels like my organs are trying to burst out of my rib cage on the right side and I can't fucking breathe. On top of that I'm an emotional mess. Anything and everything sets me off and I don't know if it's the stress or what.

I'm so mad. I'm mad at my parents for never giving a shit about my health since I was a kid. I'm mad at my mom for prioritizing her desire to avoid doctors over my wellbeing. I'm mad that when she got over that bs it was only for herself so I could play nurse maid for her. I'm mad that I couldn't afford to go to the doctor on my own for years. I'm mad that my body has failed me despite my best efforts. I'm mad I wasn't just born normal. I'm mad I was so neglected that no one cared. I'm mad that I've watched my life pass by. I'm mad that I've come last in every close irl relationship I've ever had. I'm mad that I haven't experienced true happiness in years. I'm mad about my lack of love life. I'm mad that my genetic issues made me so ugly and fucked up. I'm just mad that I can't fucking win no matter how hard I try.

I just wanted a basic, normal life for a woman. So a bit of college, work, get married, live with my husband and have a happy, modest life. I didn't want much, I never asked for anything if I couldn't do it myself. I don't know what I did wrong to not deserve that. I don't understand what else God or the fates want out of me. To die? Alone and unloved? Surrounded by my parents that couldn't have cared about me in the first place? Worst of all is that aside from my parents I only have two friends. Neither can see me. I'm stuck rotting in their house just slaving at schoolwork on the off chance I make it through and I don't want GPA to be bad. I wish I wasn't such a try hard and could just relax, but I can't even chill out if I tried. My professors will not excuse my work and give me an incomplete to finish later. I can't sit still if someone does something for me because my mother raised me to be her caretaker rather than my mother taking care of me. Wild concept that me, with fucking liver failure to the point my doctor doesn't know how I'm alive, is having to rush around my mother to cook and clean when I'm here to be on bed rest in the first place.

I wish I wasn't stuck here, but I'm sort of trapped. My parents won't leave me alone and I know it's because they care. It's just very much too little too late. Where were these fucks they had to give when allllll this shit began in spring of 2013? Why did they not care when I told them I was throwing up at least once a day just a week ago? Suddenly they care. I have to assume it's because I'm their meal ticket. I have a feeling they only agreed to help put me through college again for the sake of cashing out when I finish and get to working since that's about the time dad retires. Can't have their meal ticket dying on them, I guess.

Makes me so frustrated. I lived my whole life for them. I did everything for them, to make them happy and proud. I drove myself crazy and to misery for them. Every social expectation they had I live up to. Every task they asked I completed. And for what? To live my life as their little puppet? I hate it. I've been disciplined so hard by those fuckers that I lived in Stockholm syndrome for my whole life. Even all these years later I won't be free, I don't think I would have ever been free unless they or I die. Whichever comes first.

Also I'm so fucking tired of my forever existial crisis of dying alone. And before now it's been a hint of sarcasm, like I had at least another 40 years to find someone, so like I would have hated living my life solo but it was an option. I don't even know if I'll have that option. It's such low hanging fruit of a goal as well. Just wanting a partner that genuinely loves me seems to be asking for too much. Really, really burns my tits when I try to talk to anyone. It's always "one day you'll meet someone" or "it'll happen when you least expect it" but it's always coming from people who are either in relationships or don't want one. Like of course that's easy to say, you don't know where I'm coming from. You don't know what it's like to live your whole adult life watching yourself get uglier and uglier. You don't know what it's like to insulted mid sex or find out how much your ex can't stand you. I can't even sleep around for fun to fix the void. I'm fucking demi as hell, I literally can't get turned on unless I feel something and I'm not so delusional to fall for a one night stand. On top of that it's no longer an option, I'm just stuck in pain from sitting, I highly doubt being jostled around during sex would be comfortable, much less pleasurable.

I'm disappointed looking back at my life. I have nothing to show for my whole existence. As an artist I've created nothing. I've never worked anything but dead end jobs. I couldn't even finish a real degree before my 30s. I have no family of my own, not even a boyfriend that lasts more than a few months. I can't even make more than two friends. I'm not even good at my hobbies. There's no goals and no dreams, I didn't even plan to live this long in the first place. I don't even have a purpose.

Is this all my life is? Mediocrity? What even was all this for? Why did I have to suffer all this time? Why was I even born? Is my life even worth the resources to continue it? Do I even want to get better? Would the world be better off without me?

[the-adventures-of-john-and-timmy]

Let’s say Timmy has a dream about being with John before he’s been born

Dear you,

I slept again. Didn’t mean to. Hate it. Sleep is always boring except for when it’s not and then it’s just like being awake but maybe I’m small again or I run to slow or they catch me this time or it’s way too far in the someday that I hate and everyone is already gone!

This time wasn’t those though. You. I dreamt of you. I know it was a dream and not a vision cause you’re you and I couldn’t see you and that’s one of the things that makes you so cool that it makes you mine.

The dream was nice. I liked it. Which is kinda weird. The dream was weird too. But you were in it which was nice.

You were crying. You were soft. You were warm. You were tense underneath my hands as I held you down, in my dream you were paper thin and your skin yielded under my teeth like a fruit bursting with sweetness and impossibly warm in a way that make me want to get closer and closer until I could curl inside your rib cage and drown. I’ll take Addiction for seven hundred. Your red burned in my mouth and every where on your body that I bit made a matching wound of my blue because we were always supposed to make purple

In my dream you were. Because in the now you are not a now you are a will, you are a someday, you are a have to, and I hate that I fucked up and fell asleep and now I have a shitty fake was of you.

Hurry up and be a now.

What would your OCs' dream journals look like?

[aetheternity]

This case is wide open

A/N: Did someone ask for a Criminal! reader x Heziou fic? No? Probably not cause I'm def not the first person to do this but his birthday is soon and he deserves a gift. So a gift for him and a gift for everyone that follows me that wishes I wrote more.

Disclaimer: afab reader, sexual situations, one use of the word "girl", creampie, oral (M), Minors DNI.

"Well, well, well a little birdy told me you were back but I was almost hoping they were lying." A click of the main steel door that allowed entry to the cells and several footsteps later and who but Shikanoin Heizou now stood before you. A couple fingers squeezing the metal bars that separated you and him.

His smile just as shitty as it'd been the first day he'd caught you. The first time you'd ever been tossed into one of these cells. Though that look in his eyes was fairly new. A glimmer completely isolated for when he'd caught your eye. One he'd managed to refrain from showing when the two of you were sharing company amongst others.

"Maybe I missed you." You roll your eyes up at him but his smile never lets up. Instead you hear the sharp clink of keys followed by the loud slide of the heavy metal doors.

His sandals click almost harshly over the concreate as he waltzes past you, swiveling around to plop himself down on the cold hard bench in the corner of your cell. "Now, why is our prison's most persistent guest sat way over there on the floor? Wouldn't you be more comfortable up here?"

You click your teeth trying to keep the smile tugging at the corners of your lips at bay. Without standing you shuffle your way between his legs. Your index fingers slithering up the legs of his shorts keeping eye contact with his piercing greens. You nearly catch him shudder but he manages to stave off the reaction straightening in his seat.

"I'd be more comfortable with my freedom." You grimly remark

He merely sighs in response, "Seems you should've thought about that before.. hm? Wait a tick, I forgot to ask what you did this time."

Your hands soon busy themselves with wrapping around the base of his clothed cock. Shifting the fabric of his shorts up and down with your palms. Your lips popping open, almost as though you plan to answer only for your tongue to loll out. It curves along his shaft, flat over every inch of him that you can reach and so effortlessly slow as you work. This time his shudder isn't hard to miss and you relish in it with the shittiest grin you can muster.

His hands find their way to the back of your head, thumbs sliding gently over the nape of your neck. The process of undoing his pants from this angle was a pain but within a minute or two you'd successfully freed his cock. The deep sigh that filtered off his lips made your heart thump impressively hard against your rib cage. That annoying smile of his turned into a pleasured grimace at the smooth rotation of your tongue circling his overly sensitive tip. Pre cum nearly pooling from his slit.

For a split second his eyes shut but you draw them back with your grip on the hem of his shirt. "I want your eyes on me."

A part of you does want to continue your teasing but you had other plans for the most annoying detective of Tenryou Commission. With ease you slide his cock fully into your mouth relishing in the throaty moan that bounced perfectly off the chipping brick walls. You tug his shorts down a bit further as your lips kiss his pelvic bone continuing to hollow your cheeks with each movement of your mouth.

"That mouth of yours.." Heizou grunted, fingers tightening behind your head pushing you to suck faster. "It could do.. such amazing things.. yet you use it for evil.."

"What can I say? There are more fun things to do in Inazuma than sucking pretty detectives off." You say as you skillfully stroke his wet cock between your fingers.

He lets a breathy noise of gratitude out, "Yes.. just like that.."

When you open your mouth it's to pool your saliva over his already wet cock. Rotating your wrist around his tip till his leg begins to shake. The click of his sandal quick and aggressive as he stared into your eyes. Glossy green irises taking in every inch of his cock slowly filling your mouth. And through it all you didn't dare look away.

"Ok, ok stop." Heizou huffs, sucking in breath after breath carefully relaxing his foot to a standstill. "Tonight, there's no one in the station." He announces standing before tapping the seat to gesture for you to lay on your stomach. You do as you're told spreading your legs for him to slide your pants and underwear down to your ankles.

"Not even in the rest of the cells." He leans forward to give your ear a quick kiss before continuing, "So don't forget to make plenty of noise for me, ok?"

You tense for a split second when you feel the nail of his finger being sucked in by your cunt. The muscle quickly relaxing as Heizou worked another finger around your clit.

"So slick.." His exhale is raspy "Was today a special occasion or something? Because I'm starting to believe you wanted to be caught today, seems someone couldn't be without my cock after last time. Did the reminder of being caught and bent over in your own camp come to mind as of recent, hm?"

You huff, rocking your hips back into him. "Just put it in.."

"Don't worry I plan on giving you exactly what you deserve. I'd just like to hear one please."

The tip of his cock prods at your opening so slick with your saliva that you can just tell with the right jolt of your hips he'll slide inside perfectly. Fill you like he always did. Like he had only a couple of weeks prior. You grit your teeth, the hold he has on your hips rough enough that you could tell there would be bruising by tomorrow.

"No?" A second finger plunges inside of you, both digits massaging your sweet spot till you can't stop the high pitched gasps from leaving your mouth. "You always have to be so difficult, I'll never understand."

Like a button he keeps on pressing and like he always has he works your nerves. Works that spot with just two fingers till you're wriggling and pleading his name with tears streaming down your face. Pleas of all kind filing from your mouth like a tidal wave of syllables. By the time he pulls his fingers out you're panting and choking on every breath you take. Hugging the gross metal seat like a lifeline.

"Now wasn't that much easier?" He hums out a chuckle and you audibly grunt.

You feel the familiar sensation of his cock quickly filling your walls and you push back into it until the two of you are sighing in contentment. His hips tenderly thrusting yours against the creaking metal chair beneath you.

You drawl out a brief complaint of, "Harder." but he simply chuckles.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What, your co workers didn't tell you why I'm back?"

His hips snap into yours so hard it rocks the chair in its foundation, "You know that's not what I mean." The sound of his sandal making contact with the metal seat was rough and made you wince that is until you were forced back by the plowing of his cock against your walls. "I want you to tell me just how much you missed my cock.. tell me.. how good it felt when I brought you back to the police station that one time.. full of my cum.. tell me how you came today because no matter how many times we go through this same charade.. no one fucks you like me.. And I wanna hear my name.. flowing off your tongue in waves.. begging me to keep fucking you."

Your eyes sink into the back of your skull and you cave, knees and arms buckling against the seat as you grab for even the smallest bit of purchase.

"Archons.. H-Heizou.." You whimper as his nails sink deeper into the flesh of your hips.

He slips his free hand beneath you, driving his hips deeper with every thrust continuing to abuse your spot till you're barely able to even hold yourself up. You sob your cunt unconsciously tugging him in. Squeezing like it desired every drop of his cum.

"I.. m-missed your c-cock.."

He lets out the prettiest gasp, "What.. else.."

"I.. Your cum.. I.. liked it.. in me.."

"Almost there.. so.. so close to getting that reward.."

"I need you.." You sob throwing your head back. Curses fall off your muddled breaths. "Fuck.. I need you!.. No one.. fucks me like you.. Heizou!"

Without warning he pulls out flipping you over before immediately plunging back inside. His thumb busying itself against your clit till his name rips from your mouth so loud you're almost worried neighboring buildings could hear. Though only for about a second before the only word you can muster is his name, your entire body shaking as your orgasm escapes you too quickly for warning.

Within the next minute of you beginning to come down from your climax Heizou's hips stutter to a stop, his body shuddering violently. The warm sensation of his cum filling you familiar, almost relaxing as you take his full load. Arms settling around his neck, soothing back stray strands of his pony tail until he'd managed to stop shaking.

His breath settles over the bridge of your nose, leaning in closer till your lips are perfectly slotting together. "So, what do you plan on doing now?" He quickly chuckles. "Whatever it is I'm sure I'll see you back here within less than a week."

You simply shrug, "I can't exactly refuse good service when it's right in front of me, now can I?"

[jeonqkooks]

Jen!!! Congrats on the 2k!!! And I think it’s so wholesome that you do blogiversaries. So, also, a huge congrats with that as well!

May I request a Jungkook scenario? I love me some angst, so I chose two prompts off of that list.

#12 + #22

Thank you so much! Your writings are a blessing to this world! <3

empty hands | jjk

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: NC-17

genre/warnings: established relationship (?), infidelity au, mentions of sex, angst, jk cries 😔

word count: 892

note: thank you for sending in this request! and for being such a sweetheart 🥺💘 this is my first time writing a toxic/shitty reader lol so that was fun to explore even tho this is only under 1k words. i hope you like it!! (btw this is unedited but wbk, pls don’t know kill me yall)

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Leaving Jungkook speechless is something you excel at.

When you walk into a room in nothing but a pair of red lace lingerie and perch yourself on his thighs. When you push him against a wall and gaze directly into his doe eyes with a hungry look in your own irises. Honestly, Jungkook often loses all ability to form words when it comes to you.

Right now is one of those instances, but it’s different this time. You aren’t fooling around, you aren’t about to engage in a heated night tangled in the sheets together. You aren’t even in the room and you still manage to leave him dumbstruck.

When Jungkook came to your apartment after work, you were already in the shower. He didn’t mean to see it, but when your phone lit up with a message from someone whose contact is only a smiley devil emoji, curiosity got the best of him.

He must have been standing there for half an hour, unmoving and unable to process the visual and the words on your screen.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He whirls around, not realizing that tears were streaming down his face, collecting at his chin and falling onto his shirt. He can’t think. Every single word that he has learned since birth, wiped clean at the sight of the messages on your phone.

The stranger, whom Jungkook could only associate with a purple emoji and a shirtless chest next to your half naked body in the photos attached in the text thread, obliterated Jungkook’s entire world with three words and an emoticon.

Missing you baby :)

He opens his mouth only for silence to continue enveloping the space between you and him. His throat is dry, his eyes sting too much with the burn that accompanies tears, and his heart… doesn’t seem to be there anymore. Caged in by his ribs, where it should be. No, it’s lost somewhere inside his own body, as if it’s hiding from the blow that will inevitably come when the two of you part.

Taehyung and Jimin—the people that Jungkook trusts with his life—they’ve warned him before, haven’t they? They’ve tried to talk him out of this relationship more times than he can count; they’ve told him that you were bad news, that you would only destroy him in the end, although perhaps the thrill of it—the imminent danger that he has always found excitement in—was what pushed him to pursue you.

His friends wanted the best for him, but he only wanted you.

And look where that got him?

The things you said to the other man—the pure filth that you promised you would do to him if you were there—made Jungkook sick to his stomach. You always did have a way with words, luring people in with honey dripping from your voice.

How foolish of him to think he was worth something to you. Special. Different.

It’s clear that he’s just another body to keep you warm at night. That makes him even more humiliated that you’re watching him cry.

You step closer and put a hand on his chest. “Hey, tell me what’s wrong.”

His body flinches away from your touch before his mind can even recover. He hands the phone back to you and takes a breath, as difficult of a task as it is right now.

“It was open,” he mumbles weakly, wiping the moisture from his cheeks with shaky fingers, “and I read it.”

You look at the device and at the incriminating evidence plastered on it. Your brows knit together slightly and you heave a sigh. Jungkook might even say you look a tad annoyed that he came across your secret.

“Jungkook, baby…”

A perfectly manicured hand reaches out to him again. The red on your nails looks like the blood flowing through his veins, pumping from his runaway heart to keep him alive. He used to consider it a privilege to have those hands on him, but now they only disgust him.

You bite your bottom lip as you stare at him. There isn’t even a trace of shame or guilt on your features. No string of apologies falling from your mouth, no begging for a chance to explain yourself, no nothing. You just look sorry that you were caught.

You don’t say anything as Jungkook begins to move around the room to angrily gather his belongings. There’s only the sound of clothes being hastily thrown into a suitcase. Pieces of himself that he’s left behind on purpose over the course of the past few months.

He doesn’t think he could handle a single word from your mouth even if you do decide to speak up. It’s the worst fucking feeling, like he’s only ever been the only person in this relationship and now that the illusion has been shattered, he’s the only person who will have to deal with the fallout. The consequences of his own recklessness and total disregard for his heart.

“You know,” he chokes out as he steps around you to get to the door. Jungkook meant to sound calm, but halfway through, he realizes that there’s probably no point to it. It wouldn’t help him preserve any dignity, because God knows how long you’ve been playing him like a fiddle. “All my friends told me you’d break my heart.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted august 18, 2022]

— permanent taglist: @mi55delulu @fan-ati--c @highly-functioning-mitochondria @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @morauvmi @jeonjcngkook @shownusshoulders @jungkooksseuphoria @yoongukie-ff @curioughts @taegismochi @libra04 @hrts4kook @jeonsorchid @here4btsfics @mytearsriscochet @lvoekook @btsstan12 @i-dont-give-a-fok @callmejimmeo

[xxnashiraxx]

@verbenaa!!!! Thank you for tagging me!!! ❤ Please have my idiot MC trying to pretend she doesn't want to kiss the vampire!

“Tell me you want me to kiss you.” She bites back a whimper, trying to turn her face away, but forgets his hands and the sound escapes when he holds her there, eyes fluttering open to stare up at him. “I… don’t…” She struggles to get out, heart slamming into her rib cage. He shakes his head, thumbs circling her skin slowly. “I said no lies,” She gulps, weighing everything as time seems to stop around them.  What he’d said in the windmill still tears at her, but his tenderness at the river… his arms during the dance, his kiss on her forehead… God, everything feels so complicated, twisted in a maze that she can’t navigate. She needs his lips like she needs breathing, every part of her aching to indulge and end her pining, to satisfy the burning desire that takes hold of her thoughts every waking minute. It’s so painful… pretending not to like him, pretending that she doesn’t want to press their mouths together and let him devour her, to end the vicious punishment she keeps putting herself through. It’s like stepping through broken glass, and it’s every bit as shitty as you’d imagine. Yet… if she does, does he even know what it means to her? Does he even want her past satisfying a night of pleasure? If she ignores all her doubts and leans in now, she’ll need to decide if she’s okay with that, and if she’s not… if she wants more… she’ll need to figure out whether or not she wants to stay in Faerun or find a way home. There’s no getting around it. She’s smitten with him, and the thought of returning to Earth without him makes her feel like a hollowed-out shell. But that’s… a whole other can of worms. “I…” She bites her cheek, breathing ragged. His pink ears stir her already fast pulse, and his lips look so perfect and flushed- invitingly soft… She swallows again to lubricate her throat, inhaling sharply as the decision makes itself and she shoves all the rest of it down. “I need you to.”

Hehe, I think you've all been tagged ❤ Thank you!!!

wip wednesday

can you all believe I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO POST THIS ON WEDNESDAY???? me either, but here we are 🥹 thank you to @khywren for tagging me, you're the bestttttt ✨

have a little snippet of chapter 7 from to eden, which I might be able to swing posting this weekend?? maybe???? idk but it's coming along and close to being done!

The tightness in her chest doesn’t go away inside the warmth of the Last Light Inn but it loosens the smallest bit in the hustle and bustle of it all, no longer strangling around her insides as a candlelit glow washes over them and the Harpers mill about on all sides. The goblet of wine she hold in her hand doesn’t hurt, either.  Jaheira—the one and only fabled hero of many a tale—looks at her from across the wide table, the strange upwards tick of her lips and carefully blank look in her eyes nothing but suspicious. Rin takes a delicate sniff of the goblet in her hand, smelling a slight medicinal bitterness that doesn’t quite belong swirling amongst the red liquid. “Jaheira, I have to ask. Did you poison my wine?” “This vintage is over a century old. I’m sure a few drops of truth serum won’t affect the taste. Much.” The druid’s smile widens as she regards Rin with an appraising look, eyes narrowing as she waits to see her next move.  “Well, in that case, even more reason to drink.” Rin takes a dainty sip of the burgundy liquid, eyebrows raised pointedly towards the other woman as she swallows down the wine, the taste of it just a touch too bitter as she refrains from grimacing at the acidity. “Have you poisoned many people or am I one of the first? It’s an honor, either way.” She doesn’t see but hears Astarion sputter behind her, face contorted into what she can only imagine as an expression of pure disbelief, positively aghast at her impulsivity as he scoffs. With a shrug, she downs the rest of the goblet, an aggravated noise escaping from Astarion where he stands behind her. “Still better than what the tieflings gave us back at the Grove.”

tagging to participate if you want to! @elinorbard @preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @xxnashiraxx @kalmiaphlox @roguishcat

no pressure and if you've already been tagged i'm sorry!!!

[todrokishoto]

fluff ft. bakugou, deku and todoroki

character(s): katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shouto todoroki

warning(s): i don’t think there are any? it’s just pure fluff. mentions of eating/food, though.

summary: just some fluff with the three musketeers. 

a/n: found inspo from this prompt list so,,, enjoy! also, come talk to me about the first episode of season 5!!!

B A K U G O U 

a pair of crimson eyes are staring at you when you reluctantly open your own. it takes a moment for you to adjust to the harsh rays of light fighting their way through the blinds. once you do though, you feel your brows furrow as you meet the gaze of your boyfriend. you offer a sheepish smile at his unamused face, seeing straight through him immediately. 

“good morning to you, too, grump.”

his lips tighten as he studies your face. ignoring his scrutinizing gaze, you sit up, despite the protests from your body. you roll your neck, a sigh of relief escaping you as the tension eases. sensing your boyfriend’s urge to say something, you turn your head to look at him. 

“no breakfast? i thought sundays were eat-breakfast-in-bed kind of days?” you’re teasing, naturally, but your words still spark something in your hot-headed partner. 

he grunts. “i would’ve had breakfast ready but you were sleeping on my arm and i didn’t want to wake you.” 

your heart swells as he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly finding the duvet covers very interesting. you push away the urge to continue your teasing, fully-aware of how easily it could turn into an argument if he isn’t in the mood. you smile at him when he meets your eyes again. 

“your arm’s asleep, isn’t it?” you muse, noticing how he’s rubbing it with his other arm. 

“yeah, no shit. because you slept on it for eight shitty hours.”

“how about i make breakfast today then?” 

you throw the covers aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. when your feet are planted on the ground, you go to stand up but a hand wraps around your waist before you can do so. he pulls you back down effortlessly and you squeal, colliding with his bare chest. 

“or we could order food and just stay in bed until it gets here,” katsuki suggests, his lips brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder.  

M I D O R I Y A 

“it’s so pretty,” you gush, your eyes fixated on the view in front of you.

the wind takes ahold of your hair, playing with it briefly before moving on. you wrap it back behind your ear mindlessly, still mesmerized by the scene unfolding before your eyes. the ocean sparkles underneath the remaining sunlight, reflecting the most perfect color palette from the sky above. 

pinks, yellows, oranges, and blues mixed together so perfectly you can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away. it had to have been one of the prettiest sunsets you had ever seen. you lean forward, analyzing every detail, feeling the railing press against your waist in the process. 

there is no reply from your boyfriend and you turn in his direction. his wide, green eyes are already looking at you when you do so and you feel your heart speed up immediately. there’s a look within them that cannot be described as anything other than pure adoration. 

“i love you,” your freckled partner blurts, a rosy color tinting his cheeks. 

“i love you, too,” you respond, not even bothering to hide your wide grin. “i-is there something on my face though? you’re kind of—”

he shakes his head almost furiously, his wild green locks bouncing all over the place. you watch with amusement, the wings of the butterflies moving just as crazily as your boyfriend’s hair. he grabs your hand in his own and it still surprises you how perfectly your hands fit together, fingers intertwining immediately. 

“i-it’s just... i remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror,” he pauses, his green orbs meeting yours again. “and now you’re my girlfriend and i just— feels kind of surreal, y’know?” 

you nod, understanding his feelings exactly. “well, i’m glad you mustered up the courage to move on from the mirror. i can’t imagine my life without you, zuku.” 

T O D O R O K I

the two of you are lying on his bed, limbs intertwined, noses almost touching. no words are being exchanged, just the sounds of your breathing filling the silence engulfing the room. yet, there is not an ounce of awkwardness. you’re both at ease with each other. 

it took awhile to knock down his walls but you had been determined. during the months of your mission to get to know the quiet boy, countless questions had been asked but not nearly as many had been answered. to be quite frank, silence had been a regular occurrence and by now, neither one of you minded one bit. 

feelings had blossomed, too, which you hadn’t been able to foresee. little did you know that a mission to bring your classmate out of his shell would result in a relationship, but you didn’t mind that one bit either. the two-toned boy had confessed his feelings before you could, blunt as ever. 

being with shouto is refreshing. you don’t have to go out on a limb and try to read his mind; he is very willing to share his thoughts if the right questions are asked. sometimes, even without being prompted to do so. he brings a whole new level of excitement into your life that you had no idea you needed until you met him. 

“i want to marry you.”

and, just like that, the silence was broken. his words take you by surprise. while him sharing his thoughts happen regularly, you still haven’t gotten used to just how blunt (and sometimes a little oblivious) he could be. 

his words echo in your mind, every gear churning to process them. the two of you have been classmates for almost three years already, but have been together less than six months. there is no denying that you are completely and utterly in love with him, but this conversation had yet to be brought up. until now, it seems. 

“not now, obviously,” he explains, his bicolored eyes studying you closely, obviously noticing your distress. he knows you better than anyone. “but sometime in the future. i cannot picture a future without you in it, y/n.” 

your cheeks hurt from smiling, your heart thumping against your rib cage like a galloping horse. your boyfriend remains - seemingly, anyway - unfazed, merely continuing his staring. you can tell he doesn’t expect a response. 

“i want to marry you sometime in the future, too, shouto.” 

your words come with ease because you mean them with your whole being. if he isn’t in your future then you don’t want it. you had decided as much during your first conversation. 

he smiles. then, he closes the barely-there gap between your faces, his lips meeting yours. he’s so gentle you can barely feel it, so you grab a handful of his shirt, pulling him even closer. he doesn’t object, his smile only widening against your lips. 

[rebelwrites]

Secret Relationship

Harvey Specter x Reader

Summary: The reader and Harvey have known each other for years, despite the age difference something changes for both of them.

Prompt: “I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

A/N: this was a similar dream I had last night and was the inspo I needed to write.

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Harvey Specter Masterlist // Rebels Writing Challenge Masterlist

Neither of you knew how it happened, it just did. One day you saw the one and only Harvey Specter in a different light and he was the same with you.

You had known him for years with him being a friend of the family, and you always had a crush on him but never acted on it because let’s face it you were ten years younger than him and he was your dad’s best friend. But that didn’t stop you swooning over him every time he came round for dinner or when he would help you with your studying.

But fast forward to you finishing law school, he helped you land a job at the firm.

It was a week before you were due to start as an associate, which was a perfect excuse to go shopping to get a more suitable wardrobe for work. So here you were on a Friday night sorting your wardrobe out to make room for your new clothes when you heard your doorbell ring, leaving you slightly puzzled as you weren't expecting anyone and hadn’t ordered food yet.

Pausing your music, you made your way to the door, the only sound was your bare feet on the hardwood floor. Without thinking you opened the door to see Harvey standing there, with that goddamn smile that made you fall for him all those years ago.

“Harvey” you said, looking down at your appearance and suddenly feeling self conscious as you stood there in your plaid pyjama shorts and a vest top with no bra on. Your hair was a mess from not long getting out the shower and you had no makeup on.

“What are you doing here?” You finally managed to mumble letting him into your apartment.

“Well I thought I would stop by as we never celebrated you finishing law school and landing a job at the firm” he smirked waving the bottle of scotch in his hand.

“Urm yeah sure” you mumbled as your skin heated up from embarrassment. “Let me go get changed”

“Sweetheart what’s got you all nervous?” He asked with a smirk on his face as he stepped closer to you.

He knew, of course he knew. This was Harvey Specter. He wasn’t stupid. And you were damn sure he could hear how fast your heart was pounding against your rib cage.

The words were stuck in your throat, your feet were frozen in place.

“You don’t need to get changed okay” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In fact I’m going to get changed myself”

“You don’t have any clothes here Harvey” you mumbled feeling confused about why he would be getting changed.

“I brought a change of clothes with me” he winked, picking up his duffel bag from your sofa, the bag you were too preoccupied to notice.

So here you were standing in the middle of your apartment feeling like a teenage girl again. Trying to decide if Harvey was actually flirting with you or if you had made it all up in your head.

“Everything okay sweetheart?” Harvey asked, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah why wouldn’t it be?” You stuttered mentally cursing yourself. “But isn’t this inappropriate?”

“Why do you ask that?” He asked.

“Because you are my dad's best friend Harvey, there’s ten years between us and come next week you will essentially be my boss” you sighed realising that this might be the best you would get with the man you had spent so many nights dreaming of.

“Listen to me okay” he whispered, spinning you around so you were facing him, his hands resting on your hips and his thumb gently grazing your skin. “I don’t know when it happened but recently I can’t get you out of my head, and I guess I wanted to test the waters. I know that the timing probably isn’t great but I can’t hold back any longer. And don’t say you don’t want this to happen because I’ve seen the looks you give me when you think I’m not looking”

“This has got to be a dream” you mumbled biting down on your lip.

“If this was a dream would I be able to do this?” He smirked before his lips made contact with yours.

It took you a couple of seconds to realise what was happening. But the moment you did your arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled you closer to him. It was like your body was electric, the sparks you felt as he deepened the kiss, it was like you were floating. And you didn’t even realise he had walked you back to your sofa until you landed on the soft fabric with him on top of you.

“Do you think we can make this work?” You whispered against his lips, your eyes still closed.

“I’m willing to give it a try if you do” he whispered before gently kissing you again.

You and Harvey had now been dating for seven months now and not a soul knew. How you had both managed to keep the relationship secret when you basically worked together you had no clue. But you didn’t realise things were going to get harder.

Letting yourself into his apartment, a smile graced your face as the smell of your boyfriend filled your senses making you relax. Harvey was still at the office but that didn’t mean you couldn’t start dinner. You knew he would be stressed when he got back but you didn’t realise that would lead to your secret being harder to keep.

You were in your own little and didn't hear Harvey get back until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head rest on your shoulder.

“God I love getting home to find you here in just my shirt” he whispered “you make the shitty days better”

“What happened in the meeting?” You asked as you span around, running your hand through his hair.

“As punishment I’m now in charge of the associates” he whispered.

“Well we will just have to be even more sneaky then won’t we” you whispered trying to keep him calm. “You might have to calm down on the sneaky kisses”

“Nope not doing it” he pouted “your kisses get me through the day”

“We will figure something out” you whispered, kissing him softly.

It was now the next morning and tired was an understatement considering Harvey kept you up most of the night. Wandering into the kitchen you grabbed your smokes on the way and headed out to the balcony. To find Harvey sat out here reading the paper. He had already brought your coffee out with him.

“Go easy on me today” you laughed. “Seen as it is your fault I’m so tired”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time sweetheart” he winked putting his paper down. “But I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

“Hmmm” you winked while lighting your cigarette.

“I best get going” he smiled standing up placing a kiss on your head “I shall see you at the office”

Walking through the office with a very large coffee in hand you knew you were late but didn’t care you needed the caffeine today. What you didn’t expect was to see Harvey sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair.

“Nice of you to join us today, miss Y/L/N” he scolded.

“Morning to you to” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Less of the attitude please, you show up late to work and have the audacity to sass me” Harvey snapped shaking his head. “I’m pulling you on the case you were working on and you can find yourself going over the 30 briefs that are in the filing room and I want them done by lunch”

“But” you tried to speak but he interrupted you.

“No buts now go, they aren’t going to read themselves” he smirked as he pulled his phone out.

As you were walking to the file room your phone buzzed.

New message: Specter 💜

Great acting baby, don’t worry there is only like two briefs I’m not gonna do my girl dirty like that 😜 x

Shaking your head as you pushed the door open. You saw Donna leaning against the desk with a smirk on her face. Since you started working at the firm you and her got extremely close.

“So Y/N is there anything you want to tell me?” She grinned.

“Urm Nope” you shrugged, placing your bag and phone on the desk. Forgetting that your phone was unlocked and your background was you and Harvey laid in bed.

“You may want to keep your phone locked if you don’t want people to know about you and Harvey” she whispered.

“Oh shit” you panicked fumbling for your phone.

“It’s fine I knew about you two a couple of months ago” she smirked “I mean it didn’t take me long to out two and two together”

“Please don’t say anything” you pleaded.

“Only if you come for drinks tonight and tell me everything” she grinned.

“Deal” you nodded just as Harvey walked into the room with that cocky smirk on his face.

“I shall leave you two alone” Donna winked “don’t worry I will text you if anyone comes”

As she walked off she smirked at Harvey before leaving the room.

“What was that about?” He asked as he pulled you close to him.

“She knows about us” you laughed.

“Of course she does” Harvey chuckled “she is Donna after all”

“I think it’s time we came clean with my dad” you whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing sweetheart how about we invite him over for dinner tonight and don’t worry no matter what his reaction is I will still be here and it will not change how much I love you” he smiled kissing you softly.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 20

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

His apartment smells stale and dusty. His thrice weekly trips here to feed his fish are always quick and procedural; he hasn’t stopped to take in the state of the place in a while. A thick layer of dust covers most surfaces, his mattress is bare and there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. He sighs, frustrated and annoyed as he roots around in the closet for a set of sheets to make up the bed. He showers, remembering that his shower head is way too low for his tall frame, and misses Scully’s more luxurious setup.

He also, of course, misses Scully. He understands why she’s upset; he should have called, but the degree of her anger confuses him. When the X files reopened, he talked to her about the need to travel, and the potential for cases to disrupt their personal life. She said she understood, and they’ve worked through several hiccups already. So while he knew she’d be disappointed that he missed Thanksgiving and maybe even irritated at his lack of communication, he’d never anticipated being thrown out of her apartment.

He crawls into his bed, cold and lonely. They just both need a good night's sleep and this will blow over tomorrow, he’s sure. When he’s more well-rested, he’ll be able to explain, to help her understand.

In the morning, he feels a bit more clear-headed, but still decidedly off-balance; he needs to make things right with Scully. He packs up his things, feeds the fish, and drives back over to her apartment. He opens the door and finds the place quiet, the lights out. Something seems off, but he doesn’t immediately recognize what it is.

“Priscilla,” he calls, realizing that the cat hadn’t come to greet him at the door like she typically does.

He walks through to the bedroom, the bathroom, but there’s no sign of either of them. Back in the living room, he sees that the litter box is gone and his heart sinks. He goes back to the bedroom and throws open closets and drawers, checks the medicine cabinet. Scully’s overnight bag is gone, as is her toothbrush and the toiletries she uses daily. His heart starts racing, panic setting in at the idea that she’s left him, and taken his cat with her. This is worse than he’d initially thought, a lot worse.

He goes to the hallway and picks up the phone to try her cell, but it’s off. He tries her mother, who hasn’t spoken to her today. He tries Missy, who doesn’t answer. Not knowing what else to do, he calls Valerie.

“Hi, Will, good to hear from you,” she says, and he can hear the gurgle of her infant daughter in the background. Thankfully, he’d thought to call her a couple weeks ago and offer congratulations on her new arrival, so this phone call today won’t seem totally selfish.

“Hey, Val, I hope you and the baby are doing well,” he says, “I’m sorry to drop this on you, but I’m somewhat in need of advice.”

“Yikes, what’d you do?” she asks knowingly, and he hears her speak in hushed tones to her boyfriend as he takes the baby.

“I fucked up, Val. She’s gone,” he chokes out, tears constricting his throat.

Sitting heavily on the couch, he tells her about the X files reopening, about missing Thanksgiving, about Scully’s irrationally explosive reaction. She listens quietly, asking a few clarifying questions.

“I feel totally blindsided, Val. You and I were together when I was assigned to the X files before, and I had cases like this that took me away at odd times, but it wasn’t an issue. I don’t understand why it’s one now. I’m not sure which one of us is out of line here.”

“Wow, okay, where to start,” Valerie begins. “First of all, I think you’re both out of line. You are an epically huge asshole, Will, no question there, but taking your cat and disappearing is a bit much.”

He feels a pang of defensiveness for her saying something unflattering about Scully, but he pushes it down.

“Something else that strikes me,” she continues, “is your questionably accurate recollection of what our relationship was like when you were assigned to the X files.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting up.

“Maybe I did a better job of hiding it than I thought, but I fucking hated that assignment, Will. I was relieved when it was shut down, but you were so upset I didn’t think it would be helpful for me to tell you as much at the time.”

“You hated it? Why? I always felt like you were supportive,” he asks, questioning his entire understanding of their relationship.

“I tried to be, but it sucked always coming second. I understood why it was so important to you in terms of trying to find out what happened to Samantha so I dealt with it, but it was kind of like the X files was the other woman in your life. I knew that if it came down to it and you had to choose, you’d choose her. It was really painful. I honestly think if they hadn’t been shut down, we probably would have broken up a lot sooner.”

He runs his free hand over his face. “Then what do I do? Quit the X files after I worked so hard to get them back? I haven’t felt this satisfied with work in years, I don’t want to have to do that.”

“I don’t think you need to quit, you just need to learn how to prioritize things differently. She needs to know she comes first.”

“That’s not how it works, Val, you know that. When a lead comes across my desk, I have to run it down. I have to go out, investigate. I have to find answers.”

“No, Will,” she says with a sympathetic sigh, “You don’t have to do that. You choose to. And you choose to do it at her expense. That’s exactly why she’s so upset. Even if in your mind it feels like you don’t have a choice, you do. That might mean missing out sometimes, passing on a case or not finding the answers. But you can’t have it both ways. You can put the X files first and be alone, or you can put her first and sometimes miss an opportunity to investigate the files.”

“Is it really that simple?” he asks flatly.

“It really is,” she answers. “The truth is, Will, that you may love those files, but they’ll never love you back. You’ll find yourself a lonely old man if you don’t get your priorities straight.”

He slumps down on the couch with a defeated sigh.

“Thanks, Val. I’m really grateful that I can talk to you about this,” he says earnestly.

“Happy to be of service,” she says lightly. “Let me tell you something else, Will,” she adds, “you better work this shit out before you have kids with her, because it gets twenty times harder.”

He chuffs a laugh, but the thought of having kids with Scully simultaneously makes him feel elated and terrified, because he’s not sure if he’s already messed it up too badly for that to be an option anymore.

———

She’s curled up on her side in the middle of Missy’s bed, Priscilla tucked against her belly and purring loudly.

Missy spends most of her time at John’s these days, so she offered her apartment as a place for Dana to crash, or hide out, or whatever it is that she’s doing. She’s honestly not sure, she just knows that she needs to be away from Mulder. To get space, to give it, to punish him, maybe all of those things. She wants him to hurt like she did, to not know where she is or when she’ll be back. She hopes that he fears she might be gone for good, though she knows she’s not. Taking Priscilla was just logical; having no idea when Mulder might come home she couldn’t very well leave her there to fend for herself. Knowing that it will add salt to the wound does give her some sick satisfaction, though.

The house phone rings and she lets it go, given that it’s not her apartment. The answering machine kicks on and Missy speaks to her as the message plays, telling her to pick up.

“Hello?” she answers, catching it just before Missy hangs up.

“Hey, Mulder is on his way over there,” Missy says breathlessly.

“What? Why?” she asks, not sure if she’s ready to see him.

“He showed up here, he’s been looking all over for you. He asked me if I knew where you were and I said no, but I’m a shitty liar, Sis.”

“Okay, I guess I have to talk to him sometime,” she answers, a sick feeling churning in her gut.

“Call me after, okay? Good luck.”

She relocates to the living room, not wanting this conversation to take place on Missy’s bed, and waits. The longer she waits, the more on edge she feels. When the knock finally comes, Priscilla startles and runs into the bathroom.

She stokes her own anger as she walks to the door, straightening her posture. She is mad, indignant, furious, ready to go into battle. That is, until she opens the door and sees his crumpled expression, his hooded eyes contrite and devastated. All the anger pours out through her heels, replaced by grief and fear. She feels her chin pucker, her nose burning as emotion wells in her throat.

“Scully,” he croaks out, and she steps forward, opening her arms to him. He folds against her like a rag doll, this big, strong man suddenly like putty. They make their way to the couch and he curls into her lap like a child, crying softly with a tortured grimace. She pets his hair, not offering any words of reassurance, but letting him know she’s there. He sits up a little, wrapping his arms around her rib cage and tucking his face into her neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a harsh whisper, and her heart aches. She wants to forgive him, but sorry is not enough.

“I can’t live this way, Mulder,” she says against his shoulder, and he pulls back to look at her, not sure what she means. “I grew up watching my mother wait for my father to come home,” she explains. “Each time he didn’t write when he said he would, or call on a scheduled day, every time there was something about a navy ship in the news. We waited up, praying that he was okay, and it was torture. I swore that I would never put myself or my children in that position, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

His gaze drops away from her face and he nods sadly. “I didn’t understand, Scully, how to have both the X files and a relationship. I thought I was doing what had to be done, but I see now that I wasn’t putting you first, and I’m sorry. I’m going to do things differently, I promise. Please, give me another chance to get it right.”

He lifts his eyes to meet hers and she can see that he really means it, that he really understands. She nods, and he kisses her desperately; her lips, her cheeks, her ears, her hair. He kisses down her neck as he clings to her, his hands touching her back, her arms, her thighs.

“I was so scared, Scully,” he squeaks out between kisses. “I love you so much, and I was so afraid I ruined everything.”

He kisses the tears from her cheeks, finding her lips again as she grips the back of his neck, pushing her tongue into his mouth hungrily, needing him so much closer. He shifts to put his back against the couch, pulling her into his lap and gripping her hips, arching his pelvis up into her.

She’s overwhelmed with arousal, and love, and desperation. He pushes the hem of her shirt up and over her head, finding her braless, and sucks a nipple between his lips. She whimpers, slipping her hand down to rub her palm roughly over the bulge in his jeans and eliciting a deep moan from his throat. She stands suddenly, pulling down her cotton pants and panties, and he follows suit, standing just long enough to push his jeans and boxers down to his knees, sitting again as she climbs astride him. She impales herself on his erection, crying out in relief as they move together, foreheads resting against each other and their eyes locked as she flexes her hips forward and back, pleasure taking away all the hurt and pain.

When she closes her eyes to focus on the sensations, he brings his mouth to her ear, teasing at the lobe with his tongue and whispering to her, his thumb appearing against her clit and sending shockwaves down her legs.

“I love you so much. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, okay? You’re the only thing that matters.” His affirmations flood her with dopamine and she comes hard around him, the feeling extending to the tips of her fingers and turning her joints to jelly. He clutches her to him, finding his own release as he continues to make grand declarations of forever.

As they come down, he peppers her with kisses in the same way he’d started, desperation replaced with contentment. He pulls back a little to look at her.

“Will you come home?” he asks hopefully, and she nods with a soft smile.

“Don’t ever tell Missy we had sex on her couch,” she says, and they both laugh.

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.6)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Six) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,503 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: I really like writing scenes of them working because... it’s hot. So, part of this is me indulging myself.

Part Five || Part Seven || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The crack of Steve’s fist against the man’s jaw reverberated through the room. It left the man unable to speak, his jaw broken. He laid on the ground, whimpering as the blood from him biting his tongue on impact seeped from his mouth.

Adrian stared down at the ground at the man. “Well, that was unhelpful if you wanted him to talk anymore,” he drawled, meeting Tony’s eyes calmly. Despite having been kidnapped and now being cornered in a room with Tony and Steve, their men outside, he was too calm. Much to Tony’s annoyance; he wanted him rattled.

“I don’t want to hear from him. I want to hear from you,” Tony said, flashing him a sarcastic grin. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

“Careful. You might crease that expensive suit,” Adrian sneered.

“Don’t worry. I have two more of the same at home. It’s not that big of a deal. Plus, I don’t do my own laundry, so… even less of a deal for me,” Tony quipped. “So, Adrian. Who gassed you up and made you get buck?”

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

“Cut the shit,” Steve said, danger in his tone. “You know exactly what we are talking about. Sure, we got the kid to squeal but,” he stepped closer, his arms crossed across his chest. Adrian stared up at Steve, only a flash of concern in his eyes as Steve towered over him. He leaned close and hissed, “I want to hear it from your mouth. And it’ll go better for you if you just do as I ask.”

Adrian spat in Steve’s face.

Steve stepped back, giving himself room to gear up and plant a swift kick to Adrian’s chest, sending the chair flying back. Adrian cried out as his face made impact with the cement.

“You son of a bitch!” Steve snarled, wiping at his face.

“Hmm, that was a poor choice,” Tony mused. Adrian stared up at him from the ground, wincing in pain. “Hopefully Steve here didn’t break a rib. Not that I would feel bad if he had. I would’ve slit your throat if you spit in my face. So, you’re going to stay down there for now since you got yourself in that position. Let me repeat myself: what made you think you could fuck with us? Try to screw with our operation? Hmm?”

Adrian shot Tony a defiant look and Tony sighed, knowing what was coming. “I think there are a great many others that would come gunning for you, Stark. Maybe think about that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony yelled over his shoulder, “We’ve got a problem!”

The door opened and Wanda walked into the room, her eyes fixed on Adrian lying on the ground. Adrian immediately stiffened, unable to hide the nervousness on his face. Tony smirked.

“Hmm, that got your attention,” Steve said.

Adrian clenched his jaw, trying to mask again but he had already shown he was uncomfortable. They had the upper hand. He stared up at Wanda, his chest rising and falling quickly. He knew what was coming, he knew what she was capable of. Her eyes were already glowing when she leaned down next to him.

Writhing, still confined, Adrian’s eyes were lost, staring at nothing. Tony relaxed back in the chair, checking his watch. Steve paced on the side of the room, watching Wanda work. She smiled wickedly before Adrian gave a violent thrash, his head making contact with the floor.

“Alright, that should be enough, right?” Steve said to Wanda’s back.

She responded, standing up, before withdrawing her power. Tony was ready, kneeling down beside Adrian. Tony grasped Adrian’s jaw as his vision cleared. He observed the tears coming from the corners of Adrian’s eyes as he gasped for air, clearly spiraling into a panic.

“You work for us now, got that? I’m tired of small fish thinking they can swim upstream. You fucked up, Adrian. You could have kept your shitty little trade and made ends meet – hell, you did more than that. I saw you got yourself a nice house for you and your hot little fiancé. You’re lucky I don’t stop by and give her a visit.” He shook his head. “You just had to go and try to steal from us. All you did was piss me the fuck off and get yourself some cops to tail you.”

He let go of Adrian roughly who was sniffling, looking broken.

“Hope it was worth it, you jackoff,” Tony muttered, fixing the cuffs on his jacket.

<> <> <>

Walking into the garage, you eyed the car. You had swiped the key from the dish in the kitchen. Bryce had protested, saying you should wait until Steve got back. You told him if he wanted to tell Steve you were taking the car, be your guest, but you were leaving to get some air. You were gambling because you were afraid if Bryce actually did get a hold of Steve that he would actually tell you that you could not go. Your prayers were answered, and Steve did not answer his phone. Bryce was uneasy and you told him you were perfectly fine driving a car, you had been doing it for years. And if driving around with the windows down was against the rules, well then, you would have that discussion with Steve when he got back. He had not explicitly told you that you could not take the car, and Bryce could not argue that. He insisted on going with you and you insisted right back you needed some time to yourself.

“I’m not gonna kill myself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you had shot at him before walking out of the kitchen towards the garage.

This was going to be the first time in practically a month you were leaving the house grounds on your own. Being outside here, you were still surrounded by a fence.

The car you were taking was expensive, a charcoal Audi. You had to make sure you did not get a scratch on it. It practically purred when you started it up and you smiled. This was going to be fun. Rolling up to the gate, you reached out, pressing the button. The guard near the gate eyed you suspiciously and you saluted them, sarcastically. It annoyed the shit out of you that they all thought you were so fragile you could not handle going by yourself.

Although, you did plan on going pretty fast, windows down, which would cause concern. And that is what you did, whipping around the winding road out towards where you knew there was a waterfront. You had spent time googling the surrounding area; it might come in handy later.

There was still snow on top of the mountains, even at this time of year. It must look beautiful in winter.

You pulled off on a turn out and turned the car off, getting out. The wind was a reprieve from the heat, not too strong and not too weak. You walked to the guardrail, looking out over the lake below. It was breathtaking.

Thinking of your friends, you took a picture to be able to send them later. Seeing such openness was not a luxury in the city. Maybe if you showed them you were out, they would not worry as much.

You stayed out for quite some time, walking back and forth. The air helped you clear your head, losing yourself in your thoughts. You were not settled in, still contemplating how you could leave. You knew leaving while you were pregnant was not an option. If you went to a hospital, your name would be in the records and that was easily traceable. And if you did not go to a hospital, how would you give birth on your own? You needed to have the baby first. Without seeing the baby yet, you thought it would be easy to leave on your own. It is not like the baby would not be cared for. But you worried that it would end up not being easy because how could you leave an infant? As controlling as Steve was with you, would that extend to his parenting?

Cars drove by every so often, catching your attention. You knew it was probably not the safest being alone out here in a pretty isolated area. You were testing your luck. Plus, Steve would be back sooner rather than later now. You still had a drive ahead of you to go back home.

Home.

The word turned sour when you realized you had thought of Steve’s mansion as your home. It was getting easier to think of it that way and that made you feel a mixture of anger and worry.

The drive back felt like going back to a gilded cage.

Upon pulling in past the gate, you saw up ahead Steve was walking out of the garage, anger etched in his features. He was striding towards the other car where Tony was getting out of.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself before straightening up as you drove. You needed to act as calm as possible. If you did not think this was a big deal, maybe that would cool him off.

Steve said something to Tony and Tony looked past him to the garage. That was the moment Steve heard your car, his eyes snapping to meet your gaze as you pulled up, Tony following his gaze. You gave them a small smile, pressing the garage key on your visor, before whipping the car around to start backing it into the garage.

When you turned the car off, Steve was already standing by, glowering. Tony was still standing by his car outside the garage, trying to not pay attention to the scene. He had gotten his phone out, scrolling through, his head turned downward.

He reached out, opening the door before you could do it yourself, throwing it open. “Where the hell did you go?” Steve demanded.

Feigning surprise at his anger, you said as you got out with the minimal space Steve was leaving for you to do so, “Um, I went for a drive. Up by the lake. There’s a pull out overlooking it.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“I didn’t know I had to.”

Steve warned, his voice strained, “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You know damn well I don’t want you going out by yourself. Especially up to an isolated place like that. Anything could happen to you.”

“Nothing happened but fine. Noted,” you said, defeated. You made to walk past him, but he lashed out, his fingers closing in around your arm.

“Ask me, Y/N. Understand?”

“Well, for reference, Bryce tried to call you because that was his first instinct. But you did not answer. And I told him I would talk to you about it when you got back. And that’s exactly what is happening.”

Steve’s grip tightened and you winced. You were not leaving until you satisfied what he said.

“I understand!” you said, resisting the urge to try to tug your arm away from his grip.

He leaned in and told you quietly, “I want to know where you’re going so I know where to look if something goes wrong. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” you said, trying to shy away from his stern stare.

Steve’s fingertips on his free hand came up underneath your chin, tilting your head to keep eye contact. “Don’t squander my trust with you, doll face.”

“I came back,” you returned quietly.

He studied you for a few moments before his hands dropped. “That you did. Regardless, what I said still stands. Don’t make that mistake again, Y/N, or I’ll lock the damn keys up.”

<> <> <>

Your doctor was making small talk as she prepped the transvaginal ultrasound. The position you were in was not unusual, just uncomfortable because you hated pap smears and that is all you could think of.

Steve was sitting next to the bed, holding your hand, caressing it gently. You looked over at him and he gave you a reassuring smile. He made sure he would be able to come; he wanted to come to every appointment with you, especially in the later months. He was more excited than you to come to the appointment, ready for the upcoming appointment when you would be able to tell the sex of the baby. He was in awe doctors were able to be able to tell and he kept a copy of the first ultrasound in his wallet. You caught him looking at it more than once, a smile on his face.

“Alright, ready?” she asked, catching your attention.

You nodded and she stuck the wand up gently. Steve was watching the screen closely, completely engrossed.

“Oh, there they are,” she said happily. Her smile faltered and she made a concerned noise.

“What?” you and Steve asked at the same time. You had a hunch the two of you were worried for different reasons at the sudden change in her demeanor.

“It looks like…” she started to say, trailing off, as she moved the wand slowly.

“What?” Steve demanded again, concern lacing his tone, leaning forward in his chair. His hand was holding yours tighter and you winced but did not pull away.

She pointed at the screen, “There. Look.” You had no idea what you were looking at where she was pointing and neither did Steve because both of you were staring, waiting for an explanation. She grinned back at the two of you, “Looks like there’s a second. You’re having double trouble.”

Reflexively, you collapsed back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your chest was tight, you could not breathe.

“Hey,” Steve was over you, his eyes flooded with concern for you now. “Y/N.”

“I…” you started to say but could not form the words.

“You need to breathe,” your doctor told you, trying to coax you to do so. “Just count and breathe, Y/N.”

You tried focusing on their voices to calm yourself down. You did not need to freak out in the middle of the doctor’s office for a multitude of reasons. But all you could think of was how there were two, not just one. How could you travel with two babies if you were going to leave? You tried to force the thought from your head and instead focus on your breathing.

It took a few minutes, but you finally closed your eyes, swallowing sharply, feeling the panic subside.

“Two,” you breathed, locking eyes with Steve. He nodded and you did in return. You forced a smile, “Two. That… that’s more than one.”

Steve gave a strangled laugh, caressing the side of your face. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you said out loud to yourself.

“It’s more than okay,” Steve told you, smiling happily openly now. He kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment. “It’s wonderful.”

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

[wizkiddx]

I lovelovelovelove ur writing. Was thinking if u could do one where readers relationship w tom exposed bcos someone recognises her but she isnt famous? And its all backwards and caught out sort of thing

thanks for being so kind! also I feel like me narrator-y voice has gone WAY too far, what do u guys think? I won't be offended promise I just think it sounds so fucking annoying rn

Tom Holland x reader

summary: you run into possibly the most infuriating family members the one time u and ur boy are showing PDA

warnings = none I think :)

///////////////////////

It was a late late evening, on the last train of the night towards manchester, the British countryside plunged into darkness that appeared as a blank, black canvas out the rounded-rectangular windows. 

And although the serene surroundings were calming, the regular and rhythmic movement of the carriage on the tracks - you were more on edge. Your relationship with Tom had yet to be revealed to the world - though you’d travelled as part of his extended entourage before under the guise of a ‘family friend’. So now it just being you, Tom, Harry, Andrew and Rachel - you felt more exposed. Of course, you were incredibly grateful that Tom had planned this weekend away for the two of you (after a work commitment, hence the presence of his manger, makeup artist and Harry). But it was scary.

Coming out of Euston station, the earlier time meant the train had been more of a hive of activity. Kids running up and down the aisle, inevitably recognising Tom and then asking for a photo. Enough that you’d had to move a few seats down the carriage, so no one would associate you travelling with the a-lister. 

But after you’d past Birmingham and the clocks past eleven pm, everything had quietened down and Tom convinced you to come and sit next to him on the table of four.  Andrew and Rachel were taking use of their little duo seat across for you to catch up on some well needed beauty sleep. They’d all been working with Tom doing promo for his most recent movie in London so it’d been pretty 24/7.

That left you, with all the energy, contrasting greatly with the two flagging Holland boys. 

“Lets play heads up!” You announced to the much less enthusiastic faces round the tables. 

“You can’t play that quietly and the whole carriage dont want to listen to you screeching.” Harry rolled his eyes whilst slightly ripping into you, then picking up his phone - thinking that would shut you up.

“I can play quietly!” You huffed, looking for Tom for backing… which never came. He didn’t even need to try and defend himself before you whacked his chest in false-annoyance. 

“ It’s not a bad thing, just passion.” Tom murmured, desperately attempting to sweet talk your round - which of course, was not going to happen. 

“No way! I’ll prove it to you!” 

“Nonono darling, look I’m tired.” He straight refused, wrappings his arms round your shoulders to try and cage you in. He ended up with his back pressed against the window and your back against his chest. “Lemme just relax with my best girl.”  You huffed in reply, worming round in his clutch before eventually giving up and relaxing your head onto his collar bone. For the reasons previously mentioned, you did not for a second believe he was serious with this PDA. Just sitting next to each other was risky enough,  now he was very clearly hugging you in a public place. Arching your neck back, you were shocked he already had his eyes shut - looking perfectly contented and relaxed. 

“T, are you serious?” You whispered, making him crack one eye open with a questioning look. Instantly he knew what you meant, I mean, it was him that was most worried about people finding out about you - for your sake. His horror stories of previous relationships hadn’t helped, to the point now only your mum dad and siblings knew about your relationship to Tom - mainly for the sole reason your nan was the biggest gossip in the world and could NOT be trusted. 

“Course love, it’ll be fine no ones around and I got my cap on. No one will notice us.”

Foolproof. Or so you both thought. 

And honestly for an hour or so you relished in the fact that in a public space, your boyfriend was showing you physical affection. It was exciting, which meant as Tom’s arms grew lax round you as he slumped slightly in the chair your energy only increased. No one else was being any use either - Harry had his head in his arms on the table and similarly neither Rachel nor Andrew were conscious enough to keep you company. Finally you settled on playing a game on your phone whilst also ever so softly wiggling round on Tom’s chest, purely because you enjoyed the little huffs and the way he’d squeeze you tighter as he snoozed. 

You were engrossed in shitty little iPhone game when a person who was walking down the aisle slowed down, drawing your attention away from the phone. And then your heart literally dropped because you instantly recognised your uncle and cousin, who was 12. Worse though, they had most definitely clocked you. 

Of all people, your uncle and boy cousin too. Possible the best (or worst depending on your point of view) at winding you up, at messing  with you, for genuinely causing all chaos and mischief with you. They were most certainly not going to be discrete. They’d rib you till your dying day. 

“Y/n?” Your uncle spoke first, noticing the that the group you with all seemed to be asleep, so at least trying to be a bit sensitive. Not that it mattered on Tom’s part though, you instantly bolted up and away from him, making him groan as he slowly woke up. 

“Er yeh, I-um  fancy seeing you guys here. Why were you in London?” Because yes half your family did live in manchester - a fact you felt slightly guilty about, considering you couldn’t fit in a quick and explainable reason as to  why you were in that area of the UK during a ‘pop in’. So you’d chosen to keep the whole trip a secret too.

“We’ve been at the footie, could ask you the same question.” Your uncle smirked, noticing toward Tom, who now was blinking his eyes heavily - looking with furrowed brows between the two of you. 

Because yes, the cap had been great to stop people recognising Tom. Neither of you were to expect it’d be you that’d be YOU stopped by someone who noticed you. 

“Oh um… well er this is my friend Tom, he’s got a work thing in manchester so thought I’d tag along. What was the score?” Yes you described your boyfriend of 9 months as a friend, when it was clear to everyone you were more than that. Though frankly, you still felt sick introducing him as ‘boyfriend’ - that itself was cringe as hell. The reference to football was an in-vain attempt to distract them with the most-boring-sport-in-the-world talk. If only Tom had kept his mouth shut. 

“Sorry mate” His voice was a little hoarse, making him force a cough before stretching his hand out. “I’m Tom”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ritchie and this is Matt” Your uncle motioned to his twelve year old son who was smiling politely but his expression seemed to drop as he made eye contact with Tom. Blissfully unaware, Tom shook Ritchies hand your a soft smile. 

“How do you guys-“

“I’m her uncle. Tell you what, didn’t imagine bumping into my niece on the 11:30 train to manchester.” 

Tom’s face fell and he froze. You’d both been caught out. Massively. It couldn’t get worse, till it did. 

“Y/n is that Spiderman?” Because yes, Matt was prime Marvel fanboy age. And yes, of course his favourite hero was Spiderman. And yes, this would probably be the most exciting day of his life. And the most embarrassing of yours. 

It was at this point Harry was sufficiently disturbed, enough to make him sit upright whilst also backing away into the corner of the booth, watching from afar.

“I-uh” You didnt really want to say it, for the sake of that meant he was revealing this secret you’d guarded with your life. But at the same time, you had this overwhelming sense of pride for Tom because “yeh, yes he is spiderman.” Matt started jumping up and down like an overexcited boyband fan which made you laugh, heart swelling as Tom chuckled along beside you.

Yes by no means was this ideal. And yes you were now forced to tell your family (so ultimately the world) about your relationship. Maybe that wasn’t so bad though?

hope u enjoyed + thank you for reading <333

tagging: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

[gallickingun]

please, i beg of you || b.k.

SUMMARY: Bakugou has always been arrogant, but it is in these moments when you find him to be nothing more than a prodigy child begging to be a worthy man. Maybe your words can help soothe the burn on his tired soul.

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: smut (18+), praise kink, emotions, language, etc.  WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

TAG LIST: at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was born because of a conversation i had with @lady-bakuhoe about bakugou’s praise kink so i hope you enjoy it! i also have to say a HUGE thanks to @k-atsukidayo and @freckledoriya for reading over this for me and making me feel 10,000x better about it’s quality. also, this is my first time trying out a banner so lemme know if you guys prefer it over gifs!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

Bakugou’s mind fills with a haze the more syllables that tumble from your lips.

Your lips part and it’s like heaven spills out from your honeyed tongue. He could get lost in the way your words wrap around his heart like a vice, the organ beating so intensely beneath his rib cage that he fears he might bruise his very bones. His eyes find your mouth, your teeth and tongue and gums, and he memorizes the way you spell out each syllable.

Praise does not stop with your words, though, that would be far too insufficient.

Your hands find his body in every different way, mapping out the muscle and sinew as if it were to be your lifeline one day. The protruding veins against his forearms and waistline and neck bulge underneath your touch, as if they are only there for you to see.

The first time you did not recognize it for what it was – instead believing that it was his arrogance incarnate in the way he moved his body, the way his tongue practically lolled from his mouth as you continued to praise him for his hard work.

When you met him for the first time, there were clues of it spread throughout your conversation like clues you would eventually pick up on when the time was right.

“Wow,” you run your fingertips over the muscles of his shoulders, watching as they ripple with each movement he makes.

You’re here to repair a gash in his skin – simple, only requiring a few stitches, but enough to get him sent to the agency’s hospital ward. He’s sitting on a tabletop right now, insistent on the lack of anesthesia. You tilt your head, readying the needle to start into his marred skin, “Are you-“

“Yes, I’m sure,” he spits out the words, turning to look at you from his uninjured side. Bakugou grits his teeth and wraps his hands around the edge of the surface, knuckles turning white from the force alone. “Now just fuckin’ get on with it.”

You swallow the lump of pure desire sitting on your tongue like sandpaper. It grates your throat as it goes down but does not blur your vision to the point where you can’t see the few freckles dotting his skin, tanned flesh maneuvered just so it might steal your attention. You have to blink a few times so your gaze will settle on the flayed wound on his shoulder, reminding your body why he’s here.

“You must be pretty good,” you manage, “I haven’t seen you in this wing before.”

Bakugou’s chest puffs up, his shoulders straightening. The shift forces you to adjust your positioning, but you don’t mind the way his back becomes more rigid at the compliment. You push your fingertips into the skin to keep him still as he speaks.

“Damn right.”

A light laugh falls from your lips, “Well, I guess that makes me your first.”

The phrase is more suggestive in it’s receipt than you mean by your delivery. Your eyes go wide and you pray that he does not hear you, that he will not respond or react.

Your whole world lights on fire when he murmurs, “Oh, does it?”

Now, after much time has passed, you find yourself searching for his skin every time you are close enough.

You pass him by in the kitchen and are sure to touch his hips to let him know that you’re walking behind him. You swear that it’s just so he won’t accidentally burn you with a pan or so you won’t frighten him and cause him an injury. Deep down you know it’s so you can feel his obliques underneath his tank top, thumbs buzzing off the heat of his skin, even if it’s only for a fleeting second.

And when you see him stood over the counter, going through mail or paperwork, you always make sure to slap his ass.

“Shitty woman,” he growls, looking up at you from a particularly riveting coupon page, “stay the fuck away from my ass.”

He never means it, though. In fact, after observing him for enough time, you know that he enjoys it. You know that in every kind, complimenting word, he finds some kind of ecstasy with the knowledge that you appreciate his body.

And you know this, of course you do.

When he’s fresh out of the shower is when it’s easiest to prey on his body, to litter praise like confetti down over the top of him. He’s leaned towards the mirror, the only thing barring him from the steam of the bathroom is a pair of briefs covering his lower half.

You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, hands trailing over the corded muscle of his abdomen and lower back. Your thumb dips under the band of his underwear, dangerously close to the curve of his ass. Bakugou turns to face you, face still half-covered in bubbled-up shaving cream, one hand clasped around a razor, “Can I help you?”

“You know how much I love your body, fucks sake Katsu’,” you press your mouth to his bicep, nudging your nose over the pinkened skin, still hot from his shower. “Can’t expect me to keep my hands off you when you’re all out in the open like this.”

He growls but there is no malice behind it, “Fuckin’ perv.”

You smirk, tilting your head, “And?”

Bakugou’s face burns crimson so he turns away from you, muttering under his breath as he continues shaving the remainder of his face. You take the moment of his unintentional fragility to dance your fingertips over the bumps of muscle, digging your hands in and pressing your hips to his ass. You kiss between his shoulder blades, running your nose up the column of his spine. Bakugou grunts as his body careens forward, but he catches himself by shifting his feet and leaning his waist against the countertop.

“God, you’re so fuckin’,” you nip at the tip of his shoulder as you slip out from under your robe, “fit.”

The bristling of his muscular frame only hardens further at the sound of your words, the ghost of your touch. Bakugou acts as if he’s not paying you any mind, continuously dragging the razor against the shadows on his face. And yet, as the sinew of his thighs strain against the fabric of his briefs, you know he’s feeding off of your words, using them to fuel his self-confidence.

When he bends over to run clean water over his face, you take advantage of the position to dip your hand beneath the waistband and curl his cock in your fist, swirling your thumb over the head. Your breasts push against the center of his back, mouth leaving sloppy, wet kisses over his warm skin. Bakugou’s throat bobs as a whimper bubbles up in his throat, parting his lips, “Shit.”

He rests his head against the mirror, eyes screwed shut, “Fuck, babe-”

“Katsuki, I love your shoulders,” you use your free hand to ghost over the plane of flesh and bone, hovering when you find freckles and scars. You grind your hips up against his ass again, groaning when you feel the way his muscles contract. You whine, pressing kisses all over the expanse of skin, “They look so good when you move.”

“Shitty woman,” he grumbles, finally able to turn so he’s facing you, hands yanking your face unceremoniously so he can kiss you full on the mouth.

You pump his cock between your fingers, loving the way his whining vibrates your throat. His tongue slips through your mouth and starts running along your gums. You moan, finding his thigh and brushing your hips against it, using the thick muscle at the center to stimulate your hooded clit. The hand that isn’t preoccupied with his dick starts to roam over every inch of his torso – finding curves of bicep and pectoral and abdomen. You show him appreciation and reverence by drawing your fingerprints against his skin, pawing at him like an insatiable animal.

“Bakugou,” you murmur as his mouth trails from your lips to your jaw, nose nudging against your cheek, “p-please-”

He chuckles, the sound turning into a wave of warm air washing over your neck, sending a patch of goosebumps over your forearms. You fuss at him when his tongue darts to your jugular, a wet warmth pooling between your thighs at the feeling of his mouth. Your thighs clench together, knees knocking at the motion.

Bakugou nips at your earlobe, “Whaddaya want, Princess? You already got me by the cock.”

If you weren’t so enamored by the heat of his tongue on your neck, you might be able to come up with a better retort, something much more intelligent than, “You, please, just you.”

He pulls on your wrist, yanking you away from his cock so he can pull his briefs down to his ankles, stepping out of them swiftly. Bakugou grabs you by the hips, swiveling both of you so now you’re bent at the waist, hands on the countertop as he presses into you from behind. His cock is clamped between your thighs, the tip of him parting your slick folds just enough to make you cry out.

“You got me, baby,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulder, open-mouthed, wet kisses making a trail up to the curve of your jaw. He nudges his nose over the shell of your ear, “Look at us,” referring to the both of you reflected in the mirror, bodies joined together at the hip. When you look at him through the polished glass, you see your eyes half-lidded and his cheeks tinged red, a wave of slick coats his cock, your cunt fluttering around nothing.

You drop your head but Bakugou is quick to wrap a hand around your hair, pulling your attention back to the reflection, “Uh uh, Princess. You’re gonna watch me destroy that pretty little pussy of yours.”

The sound that parts your lips is nothing short of sinful, and what comes next isn’t any closer to holy.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

And then there are other times when you’re casually affectionate towards him, running your hands over his torso while being tucked into his side on the couch, a film playing in the background. Bakugou makes some offhanded comment about you distracting him, but he lifts his arm and welcomes you closer nonetheless. His hands raises the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric, thumb tracing over your ribs.

Of course he’s distracted by the way your hands find every patch of skin on his upper body, even dipping beneath his waistline to marvel at his thighs. You kiss his jaw, “Katsuki,” another kiss planted on his cheek.

Bakugou grunts, “Hm?”

A smile tugs up your lips, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

His face burns crimson but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the television, unwilling to relent and allow you the satisfaction of making him distracted. Despite his reluctance, he still squeezes your side in recognition, tucking you closer to him.

You always try to tell him how much you love his body; he’s worked hard for it, years in the making, blood and sweat and tears forged the bonding of muscles to sinew to bones and you’ll always be there to remind him that it was worth it in the end.

“I just think you’re amazing,” you whisper into the skin of his neck, fingerprints memorizing the pattern of muscle on his lower abdomen.

Bakugou flexes when he hears you talk about his body; not on purpose, but more of as a reaction, as if his body is in tune with your praise and wants you to continue. When you casually grab his arm when you’re walking home, he tenses his bicep so your palm will have more difficulty wrapping around the circumference of his arm. If you’re wrapped around his torso for a piggy-back ride, his shoulder muscles are rippling beneath your body, hardening to the point you wonder if he could rival Kirishima.

You press a kiss to the base of his throat, “I’m really lucky to know you.”

And that’s when Bakugou just can’t take it anymore, when your praise becomes too much and he has to do something about it but he can’t return it. He’s never been good with words, always much better by proving to you that your sweet syllables do reach his ears and have an impact.

So he turns his face as you try to kiss his cheek, mouth colliding with yours. He uses a large palm to press against your cheek, holding you in place like an anchor so he can kiss the breath right out of you.

Bakugou does nothing in half-measures, and that includes kissing you. He’s always sure to pull a sweet sound from your throat, a gentle caress of his hand on your thigh to make your whole body shudder. You can’t help yourself when you straddle him, pulling your weight forward so you can settle into the natural dip his body creates at the waist.

“’Suki,” you murmur into his mouth, “I love you.”

He doesn’t respond at first, but you don’t expect him to. You know superfluous words are not his strong suit, so you feel his love through every tender touch, every hitched breath and starry eyed gaze. You cup his face in your hands, thumbing over the cut of his jaw, sharp edges leading to his neck.

The nipping of your lower lip makes you gasp and whine, hands drifting further down his body to make sure and appreciate his pectorals, thumbs grazing over his nipples to draw out a sound from his own set of lungs.

Bakugou grunts, sitting up so his back is against the arm of the couch, “I love you more,” he manages through strangled breathing.

The simple exchange of too to more makes your heart soar.

His hands are on your thighs when you lean forward to whisper, “I love you most,” into the shell of his ear, hot breath making his flesh pebble with goosebumps. Bakugou groans at the mix of your challenge and the stimulation of your hands and mouth. He lets his hands travel up under your shirt to palm at the base of your spine and further up your shoulders. His touch is warm, painfully obvious due to his quirk, and when his fingertips dig into your skin it’s massage-like in nature and you find yourself feeling delirious every time he graces your body with his caress.

Bakugou is growling at you, turning his hips just enough to careen you off balance, catching you easily with the way he’s already wrapped up in you. His eyes are narrowed and it’s like you’re going off to war with his stare.

“Oi, Shitty Woman,” he uses his quirk just enough to get your attention, tickling you at the center of your spine, “I love you more than most. End of discussion.”

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And then, even when he has you under his thumb, you still can’t stop singing his praises.

“Tell me, Princess,” he’s knuckle deep in your cunt, dragging another wave of pleasure out of you in the form of a writhing moan parting your mouth and echoing off the walls. Bakugou knows that you’re incapacitated, but that does not deter him from begging for your affirmation.

You nod, blubbering out syllables that you pray are somewhat coherent, “Y-Yes, please, ju-just like that!”

Bakugou has memorized the tones of your voice, the way that you keen whenever he’s hitting that specific spot in your pussy, middle finger curling and stimulating while his thumb works at your clit. His mouth is sloppy on your chest, lips finding your nipple and sucking.

“F-Fuck, Katsuki,” you whine, “you feel so good.”

He parts from your nipple with a skinny string of saliva from his lip to your chest, brazen eyes glowering up at you in the best way. He cocks his head and the string breaks, cool air washing over your wet chest and your skin pebbles.

“Shit your fuckin’ arms.” You pant and attempt to open your eyes to look up at him from where he’s loitering over your, his body weighty like a comforting shadow. He kisses your mouth and you traipse your hands up and over his forearms towards his biceps, squeezing as he flexes.

The praise only encourages him further, his fingers somehow fitting further into your pussy, stretching you wide as he prepares you for his cock. Bakugou opens his mouth to swallow your moans and tongue, licking over your gums and teeth as you continue to whine kind words into the void.

“Please, Katsuki,” you peel your eyelids back so you can look him in the eyes, finding comfort in the carmine irises. “I-I need you.”

He chuckles, curling his digits harshly within you so your walls flutter around his knuckles, “You’ve got me, baby, what else do you need?”

You shake your head and kick your feet, scraping your ankles against his thighs, “Y-You know!”

“C’mon, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he nudges his nose against your collarbone, breathing slow so you writhe beneath him at the feel of his breath on your skin. Bakugou’s hand is still buried in your pussy, working you up to another orgasm, the wash of your slick coating his palm and sticking to your thighs. He kisses the curve of your neck and your hands find the dips of his shoulders, digging your fingernails harshly into the tanned skin.

“Want your cock,” you pant, “please, want you to fill me up with your perfect, thick cock, please, please, please!”

Bakugou’s laughter drifts over your throat like a shadow, hot breath and tantalizing tone curling around your neck and squeezing. You gasp, hips canting forward, “Please, I just want your cock in me, please! I-I can’t-”

The sudden loss of heat at your core makes your throat shudder in a whimper, “Katsu-oh.”

He interrupts your plaintive mewling with the tip of his cock butterflying the lips of your cunt wide open, teasing your slit with his dick. Your hands slap his arms, curling desperate fingers round his biceps. You buck your hips forward but the way his thumb is rested around the head of his cock makes it difficult for you to try and pull him further into you.

“Love it when you talk to me, Princess,” Bakugou kisses the inner part of your knee, using his free hand to cup your thigh, pushing your leg back into your chest. “You’re such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod fervently, eyes blown to hell as you gaze up at him, “Y-Yes, Katsuki. Please.”

The heat of your touch only serves to further pinken his body, blush taking over every inch of him as he tries to resist fucking you senseless; taking your body and ravaging it with his mouth and hands and cock.

Bakugou takes your neck in his hands, slowly and teasingly dragging the length of his digits over the thin, sensitive skin of your throat. You struggle to keep your eyes open as the pressure of his palm increases, stars dancing behind your half-hooded lids, irises swallowed by your intense pupils.

Your mouth is muted by his own set of lips taking you captive, cock slipping forward slowly so the stretch of your cunt is drawn out, only growing in fervor with every centimetre of him that dives deeper into you. You try to release some of your pent up tension in the form of a cry or a moan, but Katsuki’s tongue dominates your mouth, running along the curve of your teeth and pressing your tongue down against the base of your throat. You feel tears form in the corner of your lids from the pure ecstasy of his thick cock sliding into your dripping pussy.

“Good girl,” he mumbles, “take my cock so good.”

He’s close to the base of his cock now, your legs wrapping around his waist in a flurry of limbs, attempting to pull him as far as he can go. Your cunt flutters, clamping down on his length as it throbs within you. The feel of him nipping your lip is there, but it’s dull, all of your senses focused on the thickness of his cock and how it supersedes every other capacity you have.

You manage to blurt out something akin to praise, syllables in high pitches turning your mouth into a sanctuary. You hold him in such reverence, every bit of him, and that only pushes Bakugou to fuck into you harder, better. He wants to draw out those elicit sounds from you, the ones that make his stomach stir and his chest tighten.

“So pretty,” Bakugou grunts as he starts to retract from you.

You believe that he means to leave you so you start to claw at his chest and shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep him close to you, a tear slipping down from each eye, “P-Please Katsuki, please-I want your cock so bad, please. You make me feel so good, please.”

He’s kissing over your face, “Hush, Shitty Woman. I’m gonna give you my cock, just want to feel you beg for me a little.”

You’re clamping around him, trying to trap his cock deep in your pussy, holding him there like a captive until you’ve worked yourself up using the thickness of him as friction. Bakugou kisses between your furrowed brows in an attempt to force you into a calm stupor, his gentleness in stark contrast to the inevitable frenzy you will feel between your thighs. And with the way he’s speaking to you, words delicious and teasing of what’s to come, your cunt desperately cries for him, which you suppose is close to the truth. Waves of silvery slick are already dripping from your pussy, evidence of his hard work so easily on display, shining in the light of your bedroom.

Still, somehow you force yourself to listen to him, to calm the raging sea in your body. You relax your back so you aren’t arched against him, pressed up from every joint and bone, and your chest bobs as you settle back into the mattress.

Bakugou takes advantage of your openness to latch his mouth and hands onto your chest. His fingertips tweak one of your nipples while his mouth begins to torment the other. He slips his index and thumb between his teeth and laps his tongue around the digits before returning them to your nipple not currently occupied by his teeth. You whine at the wetness, the cool current from the air conditioner only heightening your sensory overload.

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whisper with your eyes closed, cheek smushed by the pillow under your head, “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

To accent your keening, Bakugou pulls out just a few inches before ramming his cock back into you, bottoming out on this stroke. He snaps his hips into you, forcing you to stay close with his free hand dug into your hip bone, fingertips acting like an anchor.

As much as the words send a shot of adrenaline-induced pride straight to his head, Bakugou knows they are false, “Shut up, dumbass. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You allow other sentences of praise to fill the room, words echoed against the walls until you’re lightheaded as he fucks you deeper into the mattress. Bakugou is bucking into you with intent – you know he’s never satisfied until your cunt is dripping around his cock, the threat of your release making you clench every part of your body to stave it off until he’s closer.

Your words act like a drug to him – clouding his mind, turning his body into something like a receptacle, drinking in each syllable as if it were his lifeline. He thinks that he might prefer this over hero work. Being able to make you come undone in the best way, knowing that he’s the only one who has this type of meticulous control over your body. The sounds that slice open your throat until you are raw with want are for him and only him, and he knows that that’s enough.

It’s a high he chases each time he parts your pretty pussy; the reality that there are certain sounds that mean you are on a different plane of reality, experiencing the currents running up your spine in such a way that leaves your pupils blown wide and jaw hung open. Bakugou sometimes doesn’t even care if he comes, so long as he gets the privilege of hearing the beautiful sounds that rip your chest open and echo against the walls of your shared home.

The familiar moan that vibrates your throat sparks something in his stomach, his cock twitching within the tight brace of your cunt, “Katsuki, fuck, your cock-”

You can’t finish the sentence because your eyes roll back in your head and a wave of pleasure captures your body and you’re a slave to riding the high until the coil wound tight in your core unravels. Shocks of intense pleasure make your thighs slick as you come onto Bakugou’s cock, combined wetness making the sound of his hips drilling into yours much louder as he continues his motions.

There is an intensity that comes naturally with Bakugou in the bedroom – as if he’s always on a mission, another part of his life that he wants nothing more than to excel at. You are his sole focus, the one thing on his mind in these moments, and all he can think about is the best angles and pressures and words that will make your body coil until you snap, pleasure washing over you like a wave at sea. He wants to pull as many orgasms from you as he can, until you’re a writhing mess, he knows his job isn’t done.

After all, just one is never enough.

Bakugou brushes the heel of his palm against your belly, just under your navel, “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbles, eyes glazed over with thoughts of seeing your stomach bulging with his come. His mouth is rough on your shoulder and collarbone, biting kisses into your skin until you’re blooming red, “Gonna stuff you full of my come, isn’t that what you want?”

You can’t form words, but he knows this. And yet, this is the most exciting time for him. As he attempts to get you to respond with syllables instead of sounds, Bakugou teases your body even further, pushing you into the realm of overstimulation.

“C’mon, baby,” his voice is patronizing, free hand brushing knuckles against your jawline, “talk to me, isn’t that what you want?”

If you could, you’d glare at him, but your mind has entered that subservient space that makes you putty in his hands, uncaring to the tone of his voice being denigrating. Your hands reach for him, begging for patches of his skin to feel under the pads of your fingers. Bakugou leans closer, encouraging you to grope his arms as he flexes his muscles, digging fingers into the sheets to use like an anchor.

“Katsuki,” your eyes split open and your jaw quivers, “p-please, I-I…”

Even in this state of mind, you are aware that Bakugou is close to coming, his cock hardening to full length within your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongey spot hidden away. You keen when you feel him continue to wreck into you, that sensitive part of you that he knows so well beginning to enflame at the repeated stimulation. Your fingernails dig deep into his biceps, half-moon shapes cut into his tan skin.

Bakugou winces, “Baby, hey-”

Your heels bore into the base of his back, begging him to stay close to you. Your eyes struggle to find his face, but once you can focus on his eyes, you don’t waver.

“Shit,” he curses, hips stuttering at the sight of your fucked out eyes. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, “You’re so pretty, baby, so sweet when I fuck you like this.”

You nod, eyes wide and voice desperate as you beg him for more. Every syllable is not your own, your body speaking on your behalf as you careen forward to try and take more of him, to pull him closer with your hands on his shoulders. You want to feel the weight of him like a security blanket, to know that he’s yours and yours alone, and he’d give you anything you wanted if you’d just ask.

“Y-Yes, yes please,” your tone is wanton, edged on the precipice of release and words not your own, “Katsu’, c-come inside me, wanna make you come.”

The begging words that reverberate in his ears are the final straw, coaxing thick ropes of come from his cock as he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks of both of your orgasms. You don’t stop there, though, your mouth finding purchase on his collarbones and pectorals, kisses laced with kindness.

“Feels so good, Katsu,” you whine into his skin, hot breath making his chest tighten, “you feel so good in me, want more of you-”

Bakugou chuckles, rolling his hips forward again as he leans to kiss your temple, “You already got all of me, baby. I don’t have anything left to give you.”

The sentence and it’s weight pry your eyes open and you are staring up at him like he hung the moon. Bakugou sometimes finds it difficult to shoulder the weight of your gaze and what it means. He knows that you can’t control the way your irises gleam, or the little shimmering stars that light up your pupils even in the dark. It’s second nature to you, to behold him in such a way.

And at some level, it stimulates him, forcing him to be the best he can, to earn that look in your eyes. The motivation to see the pride in your irises whenever he returns home after a long day on the job, or even just a day spent doing monotonous paperwork and training, is all he needs. It fills his veins, overtaking his blood and pumping the adrenaline straight to his head.

Reality that he will be able to see this look of reverence settle in your gaze every day for the rest of his life is so overwhelming that he can’t do anything but surge forward and kiss you directly on the mouth.

Because yes, Bakugou is prideful and arrogant, but it is all a mask to hide the utter insignificant being he’s so frightened of becoming. What day will be his reckoning, when he’s exposed as a phony, an imposter only attempting to prove themselves worthy of the public affection he’s received thus far.

And yet, when you tug him close and cover him in the shroud of your kindness, the veil of your love, Bakugou considers that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the remainder of his days sprinting towards the idea you have of him, the version you’ve pushed up onto an angelic pedestal.

Bakugou discovers that in your arms, he’s found a version of reality where he does not have to be arrogant to conceal the prideful deceptive self he’s built over the years. Instead, he can rely on you to remind him that his broken soul is every bit as beautiful as he’d like to fool himself into believing.

  ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

taglist: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @cutesuki--bakugou @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @honeytama @sleepysuneater @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @aizawamirite @lovekatsukibakugo @plusultrawritings @suckersuki​ @bnha-mha-imagines​ @heroesreverie​ @pink-imagines​ @brattyquirks​ @lookslikeleese​ @normiewrites​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @pinkjeanist​ @kingtamakimurder​

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Willex, stay

anon this accidentally played into the fact that i’ve been thinking about touch starved willie nonstop for weeks. so. here you go. sorry it got long lol “a lil something” this ended up 1.5k words so it’s now available on ao3 as well

(send me a ship and a word and i’ll write you a lil something for clowngate // completed prompts)

Things have been weird, since Willie moved in.

Not bad weird, Willie doesn’t think. Or, a little bad weird. But everything was going to be bad-weird, after what happened with Caleb, anyway. He’s trying to move on as best he can, but there’s a lot of adjustment at once, after he meets Julie and she breaks his curse and suddenly he is - as far as he can tell - a regular teenaged boy again, alive and well, able to graze his knees if he tumbles off his skateboard.

(Yes, he learned that the hard way).

Usually, Willie’s good with change. He likes life to stay fresh, and exciting. It’s just that sometimes he looks around the Molina’s spare room, with its cozy blue bedsheets and little bookshelf on the wall, and thinks about Ray Molina’s kind eyes and the way he’s basically adopted four ghosts that he knew nothing about prior to this out of the sheer goodness of his heart. Willie wonders if he’s stepping on people’s toes, by being here. If he’s in the way.

Everyone else knows each other so well already, is all, and he can’t help but suspect that maybe they resent him for causing all this trouble in the first place, no matter how many times Alex and Julie assure him that’s not the case. He just doesn't feel like he can ask for anything, since they've given him so much already.

And Willie also has this weird sort of pain, maybe leftover from his curse, maybe his soul being a little battered and sore. But it’s this ache that sits just under his rib cage, that thuds with his heart, and that won’t shift. He lies awake at night and feels it, like a very blunt dagger, or a really cold stone. Sinking deeper and deeper in him, like his chest is a bottomless pool of water.

It’s not all bad. Ray lets him skateboard in the little courtyard outside the garage, when he doesn’t feel like going far. He hangs out in the loft and sketches in a book Julie got him, as he listens to her and the boys rehearse. They sound amazing, and getting to watch Alex is Willie’s favourite thing. He looks so relaxed, when he’s drumming, so unselfconscious. Like Alex finally sees, in himself, the Alex that Willie sees all the time.

He just wishes Alex would be that Alex around Willie, again. The way he was before. Alex treats him so carefully now, so tentatively, like any wrong move could make Willie flinch.

Maybe Willie just flinches more than he used to. Maybe it’s not all Alex’s fault.

--

The ache is back, and Willie’s lying awake, and staring at the ceiling, and wondering why Ray Molina has a copy of The Communist Manifesto in his guest room, when Alex appears at the door. Not literally appears, as in poofs in, but appears by poking his head through the gap Willie left and saying, “Hey, are you still awake?”

Willie looks over at him. Alex is clearly dressed for bed (it’s weird, having to sleep again after all these years), and his blonde hair is all shaggy and in his eyes.

For some reason, the pain in Willie’s chest deepens further. Maybe it is because of the curse. He knows how furious Caleb was about his feelings for Alex. How threatened he felt by them.

“Yeah,” Willie says, belatedly, when Alex gives him a stranger look than normal. “I mean. Apparently.”

“Can I come in?”

Willie nods, sitting up and shuffling his legs up so there’s room for Alex to sit on the end of the bed, which he delicately does.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Alex tells him, folding his hand in his lap and looking up at the roof, the way Willie was moments ago. Willie is looking now at the distance between his toes and Alex’s thigh.

In the past, he never would have hesitated to just tuck his cold feet under the legs of a boy he liked. In fact, that sounds exactly like the kind of thing Willie-from-before would do. He’s just not Willie-from-before any more.

Usually good with change. Not sure how he feels about this change.

“Check on me?” he asks. Still looking at his feet, and Alex’s pajama-clad leg, and Alex’s hands in his lap, now. Wishing he was holding one of Alex’s hands.

God, his chest hurts. It makes him feel shaky.

“You’ve been... quiet?” Alex offers, and then cringes at himself like he regrets the word choice, his beautiful eyebrows pulling together, his beautiful mouth pulling to the side, his beautiful nose framed by the light from the hallway, streaming in through the gap in the half-open door. “Not that you can’t be quiet! Not that you were loud before, either, just...”

Not yourself.

Alex doesn’t have to say it. Willie knows already. His throat feels tight, and man, he doesn’t want to cry in front of Alex, that would be such a shitty thing, after all of this. “I’m sorry,” Willie says softly, though he’s not even exactly sure what he’s apologising for.

Maybe for not being as much fun as he was before. For being yet another thing Alex has to worry about, now, instead of being somewhere Alex doesn’t have to worry about anything.

For some reason, those are the words that break Alex, that make him impulsive.  It’s like he moves before he thinks, when he puts his hand on Willie’s knee, squeezes tight. His other hand he moves to Willie’s cheek, cupping his jaw, tilting his head up so they can look at each other properly. “Please don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

The feeling of Alex’s hands burns and soothes all at once, and something in Willie breaks. The floodgates stored in his ribcage burst, the pain overwhelming and then washing away, and he feels the tears spilling over before he has a chance to stop or hide them. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, so gently, with such kindness.

Oh. Yeah, he can. It was Alex, then, too.

“Shit,” Alex exclaims softly, trying to withdraw his hands, but that’s the last thing Willie wants, and he manages,

“Stay? Please, Alex, I can’t be-”

Okay, well, ‘alone again’ is a little melodramatic, he thinks to himself, even in the middle of his own breathless crying. No need to take it that seriously, Will. Alex is saying, “Okay, okay, I won’t go - I’m not leaving, just - what do I do? Am I helping or making it worse?”

Willie just surges forward, rolls onto his knees, and buries his face in Alex’s neck, arms around Alex’s shoulders. Alex holds him back, tight, soothes him in sounds more than words.

The pain washes away down the river. Everywhere Alex touches him, every time Alex runs a hand through Willie’s hair or down Willie’s spine, the ache recedes, reduces, dies down.

“I wanted to give you space,” Alex whispers, lips practically against his ear, the warmth like a bucket of water over Willie’s head in the best way. He’s doing some of his best overthinking, Willie can tell even through his upset. Alex is an astonishingly good multitasker. “But I gave you too much, huh? This... I should’ve been doing this.”

“You didn’t have to,” Willie says, sniffling in a truly disgusting way. “Shouldn’t have to now. Don’t want to make you worry.”

“Please make me worry,” Alex interrupts him. “Please. For once, let me play to my strengths?”

That startles a laugh out of Willie, and Alex grins, Willie can feel it against his face. Now that he’s done crying, now that they’re just sitting there holding each other, he can feel the blooming warmth inside him, the relief. The quiet.

“Better?” Alex asks.

Warmth where there was cold. Comfort where there was pain. It wasn't the curse after all, he guesses, but this is a change Willie can deal with. It’s not Caleb, haunting him still somehow. He just needed a hug. He hums his affirmation. “Can we just... stay like this, for a bit?”

“I guess so,” Alex groans, smiling, and laying back on the bed with his arm outstretched and welcoming, shaggy hair still in his pretty eyes. “I guess we can.” When Willie lays down on his arm, he says quietly, “Just. Tell me next time? If it gets like this? I just wanna help, but I can’t know what you need if you won’t ask me.”

Willie’s instinct is to brush him off, even after everything that’s happened, but the relief is still so palpable, and Alex seems so warm and genuine, and safe, like everything Willie’s ever dreamed of. Better than he deserves, for sure, but that doesn’t mean he has to say no. He’s seeing that now.

“I’ll ask,” he promises, and he means it. “I��ll ask you.”

--

part 2

part 3

[beigehearts]

The Price of Self Respect

Read part one here! PART II CW: mutilation, gore, puke

 1,729 words

____________________________________________

He’s observing you, every inch of your body. He stared as if you were an art piece, but you begin to wonder what was the true meaning behind it. His grin disappears as if he realizes he’s showing too much emotion. “I never thought the creator would look like this. Though it’s never good to assume.” 

Somehow his comment struck a chord in you, and you aren’t someone to stay quiet. “I never thought the Spider’s Leader was a pretty boy, though it’s never good to assume.” You scoff and shake your head. His eyes widen though you aren’t bothering to look at the man anymore. “Wire me my money- I have better things to do than stay where my mission is finished.” You turn on your heel and click your way out of the room, and Chrollo didn’t try to stop you. 

Laying in bed at 7 pm, watching an oldy cheesy and romantic movie, you bite into a sour gummy worm. You snuggle deeper into the large, soft bed, sinking into it’s warmth and achieving nirvana. Maybe you should go to a bar. You haven’t gone out for a drink in a while, you try not to be intoxicated for a week before a mission. It could slow you down. Seeing as you have no missions, and assuming you won’t for quite a while, you might as well indulge yourself.

After putting on minimum makeup, and a comfortable but cute outfit, you call a cab to pick you up at the front of the hotel. You used the hotel phone of course, not your own to call a cab. Before you head down to the lobby, you quickly draw a thread ring on your finger. If any nen is use within five feet of you, it will snap. This was you don’t have to constantly exhaust yourself by using gyo constantly. 

You are shielded from the rain by the awning in front of the hotel, you hold your arms to your chest as a chill runs through you. It’s quite cold today, you’re surprised that it’s not snowing or sleeting. A yellow car pulls up to the curb and you rush into the back seat. 

“Hi, I’m headed to the Lotus Bar.” You say in a sweet voice, as you do to anyone providing you a service. 

The man in front of you seems cramped in this somewhat small car. He’s wearing a cabbie uniform besides the hat. His hair is in a high pony tail and his head is only a few centimeters away from the roof of the car. He nods towards you and mumbles, “Okay.” 

You try not to think much of it but the hunter in you tells you to worry. You know there are weird people in York New city, and your thread ring hasn’t broken so you should be fine. 

Five minutes into the car ride and you reach the highway, at this time the cabbie starts to make conversation. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.” 

You put on a fake smile even though he can’t see it, “Yes, I’m just visiting for a few days. On business.” 

He nods while keeping his eyes on the road, “What kind of business? Are you an auctioneer?”

“No no, I’m just here meeting some coworkers. It’s more of a business vacation than it is a business trip I should say.” Rain hits the windows as if trying to break through the glass and hit you. Car lights are blurred because of the heavy rain and you wonder if the cabbie would be able to see clearly enough out of the front window. 

The cabbie pulls over to the side of the highway and sighs.  “Is it raining too hard to see?” You ask innocently.

He turns in his seat towards you, he has a crooked nose, and deep deep eyes. His frown doesn’t falter when he says, “We’ve reached our destination.” 

The ring on your finger snaps.

He lunges at you, grabbing you by the throat and punching you impossibly hard in the gut. Your body begs to cough violently but the hand around your throat prevents you to. You punch him in his crooked nose and he loosens his grip on you. You contort your leg to kick him in the neck, and he goes flying into the dashboard. 

Blood splatters all over the car’s shitty leather seats when you cough so hard that you become worried your organs will be coming out next. You scramble for the car door and leap out head and hands first. Right as your hands feel the cold and wet road, he grabs your ankle. You glance back at him and his lips quirk upwards, “Nice try. “ The cabbie grabs your thigh and calf, with brute force there’s a loud crack. It takes a moment to register in your mind- but not long. You scream out in agony, and slide out of the car and onto the road once he lets go of you. You flip onto your back and see it, your leg is bent in a way that no leg should be bent. The sight of it causes bile to rise in your throat, and you turn over, everything that was in your stomach forcing itself out of your body. Once everything has left your stomach, you flop back down on your back and grit your teeth in pain.

The man steps out of the car, and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. Your foot digs into his rib cage, simply because it’s been forced into an unnatural position. You feel a buzzing coming from the man’s pocket and he grabs his phone and answers it, as if in no rush at all. 

“Nobunaga. What’s taking you so long?” 

You conjure your pencil and begin sketching in the air.

“I’m on my way.” 

It’s starting to come together. A ferocious creature.

“Chrollo told you to be here ten minutes ago. Did you sit down and have a damn drink with the girl?!” 

The incredibly large dog begins to form into a physical creature.

The man, Nobunaga, groans and growls into the phone, “I’ll be there soon.” He hands up and puts his phone back in his pocket.

Nobunaga stops and turns when he hears an eardrum shattering bark. His eyes widen but he’s not quick enough to stop the feral dog you’ve created. It sinks it’s fangs into the back of Nobunaga’s leg, and takes a chunk out of him. He screams in pain, collapsing, unable to stand at this point. Things begin to go black, the pain becoming too much for consciousness. You reach out for the dog and as it stretches to grab you gently, to run away with you, it whimpers loudly. It begins to dissipate into dust. Someone had attacked your dog with nen. Above you, standing in the ashes of your large pooch, is Chrollo. 

“Come on, let’s go y/n.” 

Your mind is fuzzy, sounds are nothing but unintelligible nonsense, and your sight has already gone. At least the pain would be gone for a while, if you woke up. 

Who knows how much time has passed, certainly not you. It’s quiet, deafeningly quiet. You peel your eyes open. which requires a lot of effort. Your body is fighting you to stay down but you sit up with much pain. Your stomach feels as if a wrecking ball has slammed into you. You pull the shirt that is not yours up and see a black and blue bruise blooming on your stomach with sprouts of yellow. Speaking of, who’s clothes are these? You look down at your legs, wearing sweatpants much to big for your frame. You feel down to your knee and wince, it seems to be back in place, and wrapped carefully with some kind of nen. 

A sigh escapes your lips and you take in your surroundings. It’s dark but your eyes have adjusted to it already. You lay on a makeshift bed, with a light sheet covering your bare feet. The floor is concrete but so are the walls. The room is maybe, 10ft by 7ft wide. The only light in this small, claustrophobic room comes from the moonlight through a hole in the ceiling. 

Your eyes wander towards the entrance of the room, a man sits on a wooden chair that looks incredibly uncomfortable. His eyes don’t even look up from his book when he says, “How are you feeling y/n?” 

“Well, my leg is broken and I’ve been kidnapped. So not bad.”

He closes his book and chuckles, then gently places his book on the floor next to him. “You put up quite a fight. It was wonderful to see you create something so beautifully.” Chrollo sits on the floor at the end of your makeshift floor bed. “It truly was delightful.” 

You look down at your hands in your lap, “How is Nobunaga?” 

“He’s okay, he’s been through worse.” 

“Whose clothes are these?” Suddenly you have many questions that you want answered.

“They’re mine.” He states. Though the statement surprises you, you could never imagine Chrollo wearing sweatpants and a white t shirt. 

“So what am I here for. Information? You gonna torture me? Go ahead, you guys already broke my leg.” You say as if he’s the one who broke your leg.

Chrollo stares at you in wonderment. “You have quite a lot of questions. I can’t blame you.” He looks up to the single light source and nods to himself. “I’ve been observing you for quite a while. 

Once the words reach your ears, a red tint covers your cheeks. How could you not have known he was watching you? How long has he been watching you? How much does he even know about you?!

“I’m a specialist as well. I’ll let you know what my nen ability is.” For some reason this makes your heart pound, do you want to know what his ability is? 

“I take other people’s abilities, so they can no longer use it, and I can use as many as I take. That’s why I tracked you down. Your ability is quite unique.” He looks at you with a genuine smile, “But then I began to like you too much to just take your ability. So instead I took you.”