#and then it started to feel like something else i had written

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, an you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing, until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smiled was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[ssailormoonn]

❛ THEY ARE WHAT ?! ❜

Husband! Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Wife!Reader

WC;1.4 k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; x fem reader, you and giyuu are married, fluff, slight crack warning + more?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Giyuu and the reader have been married for three years, but their marriage isn’t widely known. The reader, a bubbly and outgoing Hashira, is often seen around Giyuu, leading others to assume she pities him, unaware of their relationship. During a Hashira meeting, she casually asks for leave to celebrate her anniversary, surprising everyone. Ubuyashiki then reveals the truth by wishing the couple a happy anniversary, leaving the rest of the Hashira in shock - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You and Giyuu had always kept things... quiet. Not out of necessity, but because that's how Giyuu preferred it. He wasn't the type to flaunt his feelings or make a show of your relationship, and you didn't mind...most of the time. Sure, you'd tease him now and then, but your marriage wasn't something you shouted from the rooftops. You didn't hide it either, though.

People just never asked.

You were nothing like Giyuu in any aspect. Where he was brooding and silent, you were bubbly, always smiling, always drawing attention with your lively personality. Once you came into Hashira position, you'd gain the reputation of one of the friendliest and most outgoing but also one of the strongest.

People admired your skill, but they couldn't help but not ignore how you looked. You had that beauty to draw eyes, combined with your personality, it wasn't rare to hear other people say how you were one of the prettiest demon slayers.

No one knew your last name, though.

That might've been a clue-if any of them had stopped to think about it.

It was no secret that you spent a great deal of time around Giyuu, but most of the Hashira had come to the conclusion that you must pity him-some sort of friendly charity case. And Giyuu, in his usual way, didn't correct them. He never explained why you two were always together.

He let them assume and you let him.

But it was about to come out—whether you planned it or not.

The meeting started off like any other. You sat near Giyuu as per usual, not that anyone paid much attention to seating arrangements anymore. It had become routine. Sanemi barely spared a glance in your direction, too busy looking irritated by something else entirely, while Mitsuri flashed you her usual bright smile.

Rengoku was already there, greeting you with his boisterous energy. "Ah, good morning! You are looking radiant today as always!"

You smiled back at him. "Thanks, Rengoku."

Giyuu nodded in greeting but didn't say a word, silent as always and as still as air. You were used to it, though. His silence didn't faze you. Giyuu loved being near you in private, he was like a cat that didn't want to leave. But today, you did have something to ask, something that was going to definitely stir the pot.

When Ubuyashiki asked if anyone had announcements, you took a deep breath, preparing for the storm that would most definitely arise.

"Master Ubuyashiki, Giyuu and I would like to request a leave of absence for a week."

The other Hashira's eyes fell instantly upon you, curiosity written on their faces. Ubuyashiki smiled. "Of course. And for what reason?"

You grinned, your eyes flicking to Giyuu, who looked faintly concerned-he hadn't expected you to announce it, but you couldn't help yourself. "It's our anniversary."

There was a wave of shock around the room, though nobody said a word in that instant. Mitsuri gasped, eyes wide with wonder, while Sanemi shot you a look of utter incredulity. Rengoku's eyebrows shot up, for once, his grin faltered while he processed what you had said.

But Ubuyashiki didn't seem remotely surprised. As serenely as he always spoke, he merely inclined his head and said, "Ah, of course. Happy anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. Tomioka

Mitsuri's face had sagged. "W-what...?! Mrs. Tomioka?!"

Rengoku's eyes blinked, his confusion curled into laughter. "Wait—Giyuu's wife?! And all this time we thought you were just keeping him company out of pity!"

Giyuu's eyebrow twitched at the comment.

Sanemi huffed loudly, wrapping his arms around himself as if to shield the bruised ego within. "You've got to be kidding me. You're married? To him?"

Uzui leaned back as if he finally found the most amusing part of his day. "Tomioka's been keeping a pretty little secret from us this whole time, huh?" he said, raising an eyebrow in a smirk. "I gotta say, you are full of surprises. Bet you ain't as dull as we thought, Giyuu.

You tried to keep the laughter welling up inside of you contained, but Giyuu's expression was making you not to do so, he was getting embarrassed from the teasing. His face was stoic as ever, but you could sense him tense up. A hand laid stiff upon his lap gave a small jerk-a faint sign that all this attention set him ill at ease. You leaned forward and casually laid your hand over his, giving it a slight squeeze.

"Well, we didn't exactly hide it," you teased with a smile. "We just didn't tell anyone."

Sanemi grunted low. "You mean he didn't say anything."

Giyuu had nothing to say, his eyes on the floor. Moments like this, you knew he wanted to disappear. But instead of letting the others keep their teasing going, you turned the tables.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," you teased, moving in a little closer to Giyuu with a sparkle in your eye. "It's been years now. Giyuu's always been such a romantic."

Sanemi snorted, and Tengen let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, right. I really can't picture Tomioka being romantic."

You smiled, leaning your head against Giyuu's shoulder in exaggerated love. "He planned a whole week off for our anniversary. Isn't that sweet?

Mitsuri, the eternal romantic, squealed in delight. "Oh, my goodness! That's so adorable! How long have you two been together? Why didn't we know this all this time?!"

"Well," you said, "Giyuu's good at keeping secrets."

By this time Giyuu's face was a deep crimson color. his ears almost burned with embarrassment. You knew he'd most likely scold you later for being so casual about letting it all spill out, but for the time being you enjoyed your fellow Hashira's reactions.

Rengoku, still smirking, crossed his arms. "Three years of marriage, eh? That's awesome! I'm shocked we never put two and two together. How long have you two been a couple?

"Since we were in our teens," you said matter-of-factly. "We went through quite a bit together. He was always there to support me, even when I wasn't yet a Hashira."

The smirk on Tengen's face spread further. "So, how does it feel being Mrs. Tomioka? Got to say, I'm kind of curious. He's got that stoic brooding vibe going on, but I'll bet he's different when it's just the two of you, huh?"

Your beamed, and you shot Giyuu a sly look. "I don't kiss and tell."

That made the rest burst into a fit of laughter, though Mitsuri turned to you dreamily. "That's so romantic. I just can't believe that you were married all along..."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Romantic? It's impossible."

You laughed, leaning into Giyuu just a bit more, earning a barely audible sigh from him. You could tell he was trying to hold it together despite the attention, and you knew he'd probably scold you later for making such a big deal out of it. But for now, you were having too much fun with the moment.

Ubuyashiki merely smiled at the both of you, his calm and collected demeanor accompanied by an understanding sheen in his eyes. "I hope the two of you enjoy your week off together. It's well deserved."

You nodded gratefully to him. "Thank you, Master Ubuyashiki.

The other Hashira were still talking when the meeting wrapped up, still apparently in a daze from your marriage bombshell. Mitsuri darted over to you the instant the meeting was finished, her face shining with excitement.

"I have so many questions! How did you two meet? Who confessed first? Oh, I bet Giyuu's so sweet when no one's looking, isn't he?"

You laughed, dodging her interrogative attack. "It's a long story, Mitsuri. Some other time, I'll tell you."

With that said, before you could utter another word, Giyuu silently got up, tugging lightly on your sleeve. "Let's go."

You followed him out of the meeting room, the eyes of the other Hashira seemingly still on you well after you left. When they were outside and far enough away from their prying gazes, Giyuu let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low but his tone gentle instead of angry.

You smiled up at him, slipping your hand into his. "Maybe just a little. But come on, they were bound to find out eventually. It was kind of fun seeing their reactions."

Giyuu sighed again but didn't argue. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently, and his expression softened just a little. "I suppose it wasn't unbearable."

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "See? I told you it'd be fine."

Giyuu said nothing, but the slight flush of his cheeks did the talking.

Do not copy, steal, modify use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[deadhands69]

A Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked. You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.” 

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected.” Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you  His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?]

Katsuki [see you soon]

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror]

You [why didn’t you warn me???]

Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡]

[you have 8 new messages]

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Haechan x fem!Reader x Jaehyun

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly ilichil. MLM behavior. Breast feeding. Lactation kink.

| wc: 1.6k

| aurora's note: originally written for my poly!ilichil x fem!oc fic. edited as much as possible to be reader friendly. also wrote this in the middle of the night, so i apologize for any errors

It was beginning to piss you off, the uncomfortableness from being so full throughout the morning. The baby'd woken up in the middle of the night, maybe around 2AM, screaming and crying, an obvious tell that she was hungry. Jungwoo brought her to yours and Mark's room, gently woke you up, then handed her over for you to feed. You were half awake the entire time. Mark was dead asleep, Jungwoo was brushing your hair with his fingers to comfort you, and the rest of the house was quiet. You were beginning to hate the fact that you were the only person in the family who could feed your daughter-- Sure, she would wean off eventually and move onto bottles, and then the boys could take turns; Until then, you were all she had.

But once she went back to sleep around 3AM in Jungwoo's room, you couldn't sleep. One of your breasts was still full and tender... The other was sore from being suckled, and as the sun rose, it began to feel full too. You tried to distract yourself. Watching movies in the living room, scrolling through videos on your phone, making a snack in the kitchen. Nothing worked. So you crawled back into bed, this time with Johnny who rolled over in his sleep to embrace you in his arms before the two of you crashed. And then there was more crying around 6AM. The whole house woke up finally, Jungwoo and Doyoung bringing the baby into the room while Johnny helped you sit up and get comfortable before taking her in your arms. You tried to help yourself by having her latch onto the opposite breast than before-- However, she wanted nothing to do with you. She was crying like she was hungry, but no matter what you did, she just wouldn't give in. So Doyoung took her back. Jaehyun and Haechan entered, both of them visibly exhausted, Haechan rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Oh, sweet girl, what is it, hmmm?" Jaehyun cooed while Doyoung handed her over to him. "Why're you giving your mom so much trouble?"

"Maybe she just had a nightmare?" Doyoung theorized.

"Maybe."

Slowly, she calmed down in Jaehyun's arms, the crying turning into coos that turned into snores. Doyoung offered to put her in the crib in his room since it was the furthest down the hall, so if she started crying again so early, no one else would be bothered by it. He and Jungwoo left with the baby, Johnny slowly slumped back into his pillows, and Haechan and Jaehyun turned like they were ready to leave.

"Wait--" you called out to them.

They both stopped.

"Please... It hurts..."

They turned to look at you, worried. What hurt? Did you need something? Whatever it was, they were always willing to help, just say the word and they would turn back time for you. So they approached you slowly while watching you struggle to get comfortable in bed, Johnny making more room for you to sit with the two of them.

“She won’t drink from the right side,” you whined. “It fucking hurts now.”

Haechan climbed onto the bed to settle between you and Johnny, his hands drifting upwards to massage your sore right breast. Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed at your left side.

“They’re uneven. They’re full. It hurts like a bitch to have her just sucking on it for hours and have nothing happen. I’m so fucking over it. Please, just do something…”

A direct request was unnecessary by that point. Jaehyun and Haechan were like sharks lured into bait the way they were staring directly at your tits, both of them eagerly trying to free you again from your maternity clothing. Haechan was the first to do something— The second you were free from the restraints of your bra, he leaned in to wrap his lips gently around the sensitive nipple of your right side which hurt the most. You moaned with relief. It wasn’t sexual, not this time at least… In the past, especially when the boys first came home from tour to see you so, so pregnant, Jae and Hyuck couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, they were always trying to fuck you or at least suck on your tits. Now that there was a baby taking everyone’s attention and all of your physical wellness, they had retreated slightly in order to let you focus on getting better… But you needing them so badly that you had to beg for their help made it impossible for them to hold back anymore; and once Jaehyun began sucking on your left nipple, you couldn’t help but feel completely as peace with the fact that you were finally being given the aid you so desperately needed after weeks of nothing but diapers, baby vomit, and having issues getting her to latch on to you.

Jae looked up at you through his lashes. He could tell that the baby had drunk from that side earlier so it was more sore than full, which meant that he had to be more kind to you than Hyuck who was eagerly sucking and massaging, moaning quietly as he did so. The fullness that kept you up all morning was finally fading… You felt tired all of a sudden. They did you a favor by drinking up everything stored away inside of your body just so you could get another few hours of rest before inevitably waking up again with that same, unbearable fullness and a crying baby down in Doyoung’s bedroom.

Between the two of them, Haechan was more into the idea of the milk aspect. He loved the taste, and the intimacy of having his hair played with while he suckled, drinking every single drop until both of you were satisfied. As for Jaehyun, the attraction came out of wanting to help you. Knowing that he was the one rushing to your aid, the one watching as you melted and thanked him for getting rid of the soreness, your body slumping against his, all of it made Jae swoon. He’d do anything for your family. It was the most important thing in the entire world to him— Helping you out, no matter the request or the cost was the best thing you could ask of him.

Hyuck pulled away first to catch his breath. As he did so, a bit of milk dribbled out of your nipple and slid down your breast. He immediately went to catch it with his tongue, licking up the trail of liquid to make sure he got every bit of it before returning to sucking on you. Your hands found warmth in his long brown hair that he refused to cut ever since the baby was born because he loved how she would reach up to tug on it when he’d play with her.

Jae pulled away next, his hand still cupping the underside of your breast, fingers gently kneading the fat. “Feeling better?”

All you could do was nod in your state of tranquility.

He quietly chortled. “Should’ve woken one of us up earlier.”

“I felt bad,” you replied.

“Don’t,” Hyuck said. “We’d rather lose sleep than see you in pain.” And then he went right back to his task with a satisfied groan and a roll of his hips into the bed.

Jaehyun moved one of his hands down to your thighs for him to massage that too in tandem with your tit. With nothing else dribbling out or left to suck on, he knew that you were tapped out on his side, so all he could do was try to keep you relaxed while Haechan played the catch up game on the other side in order to even you out like you asked for.

“We’ll start weaning her off this week,” Jae said. “Need to give you a break so it doesn’t keep getting this bad. We’ll make a schedule for bottle feeding, too, that way it’s fair.”

You thought about how all of that was already decided in your mind hours ago when you were sitting on the couch watching TV, but hearing Jaehyun say it out loud with Haechan and a half-asleep Johnny as witnesses made you feel like it was real, that the boys would finally get to chip in so you could sleep for an entire night.

Hyuck pulled away while licking his lips and sighing heavily. He was done, too, the pain in your breasts subsiding at a rapid pace.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sinking into the bed some more.

Hyuck kissed you passionately, the taste of your milk on his hot tongue.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, can you do it in one of your rooms,” Johnny grumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and stuffed his face full of his pillow.

Jae pulled Hyuck away from you, muttering something about how you looked too tired to have sex, and that you needed to rest before the baby would wake up again. Haechan seemed a bit disappointed, but he was also incredibly understanding. So despite his hard-on in his pajama pants, Haechan adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose then slid off the bed after Jaehyun leaned in to kiss your cheek. You wanted to ask for them to stay or at least help you into one of their rooms where the three of you could cuddle together, but exhaustion hit you like a truck in a single instant, preventing you from forming a coherent sentence. They just laughed at how cute you were when you were that tired. Then with another kiss and a quiet series of “I love you,” they left, and Johnny reached to scoop you into his arms again.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Shower - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I cried so much while writing this. I think that means it’s good? Either way, I hope you all like it. Lmk if any of the warnings are missing or labeled incorrectly

Written for this request

CW: dysphoria; chest dysphoria; descriptions of dysphoria triggers; descriptions of dysphoria; anxiety attack (or panic attack. I’m not sure which one counts for this); crying; mentioned emotional exhaustion/numbness; Logan is soft in this; hurt/comfort; Reader and Logan bathe together; bathing while partially dressed; Reader is called handsome; mentions of panic; fluffy ending; talk of love; mild kissing

669 words

It really was the mirror’s fault.

One of your least favorite tasks to do was to shower. Not because you didn’t like being clean or because it was too overwhelming. No, you didn’t like it for an entirely different reason.

Taking a shower meant being naked. And that was the one thing you hated more than anything else. Well, sort of. Being partially naked was fine. The real problem came when your chest was bare.

And your bathroom had a mirror. A large one, so no matter where you were, you could always catch a glimpse of your reflection.

It made you feel physically ill. Like you could see all the people around you, laughing and mocking you for not being as flat as you needed. It made you want to rip off your very skin.

But you have to take a shower.

Everything is fine until you get into the bathroom. Your back is to the mirror, you’re focusing on something else… and then you drop something and have to turn around to pick it up.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, and it all spirals from there.

Logan finds you in the corner, crying and numb. He crouches in front of you. “Hey.”

You don’t answer.

He drapes one of his shirts over you, careful not to touch your chest as he buttons it up a bit. Once your chest is hidden, he steps back, starting to shed his clothes.

You lift your head a little to watch, but don’t say anything. You just sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He turns on the water to the bath, waiting a moment to make sure it’s the right temperature. Then he gently scoops you up and steps into the bath.

He sits down, settling you on his lap. The bottom of the shirt gets wet, but he makes no move to take it off.

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“You alright, handsome?” Logan asks, hands gently rubbing your thighs.

“No.” You shake your head. If you weren’t all out of tears by now, you’d probably be crying again.

He nods and presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You take a deep breath in and let it go. You do feel better now than before. The shirt you’re wearing clings to your body as the bathtub water rises, but your chest is still covered. You don’t feel so gross anymore.

Logan doesn’t leave for the rest of your bath. He helps you wash, doing it for you when your hands shake too much and bile rises in your throat. His hands are rough but gentle. They ground you, keeping you from falling into panic.

The shirt is soaking wet by the time you’re done. Wet and clingy and gross. But you feel so much better.

You get out of the tub on your own, shying away from the mirror. Logan drapes you in a towel before undoing the buttons of the shirt. When you pass by your reflection, there’s nothing visible but fluffy towel. You take another deep breath.

There are no mirrors in your bedroom, so you drop the towel to get dressed. Logan sits on the edge of your bed, watching. It makes you feel the tiniest bit insecure about yourself before you catch the look in his eyes.

Absolute adoration.

It makes you blush, hasty to finish dressing. You’ve always known Logan loves you. He’s made it abundantly clear since the two of you started dating. You just forget sometimes how much he loves you.

Once you’re done you sit on the bed next to him and lean against him. Entwining your fingers with his. “How did you know?”

Logan looks down at you. “I had a feeling. You’re always fast on shower days. Figured something was wrong after you took a while.”

You lean up to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He leans into the kiss. “Anything for my man.”

[shy-writer-999]

hm… any thoughts on who’d do something like orgasm denial or overstimulation on their s/o as “punishment” for like, not taking proper care of themself/getting hurt/trying to sacrifice themself/etc? and maybe what that’d entail?

I think we need more of dom Sanji … so this is what I have for u. I was initially thinking Zoro and Ace but I have written sooooo much for them the past couple weeks so let’s mix it up! see below the cut for what i came up with. idk what to call it but its like 700 words (๑>◡<๑) also i read through it once or twice so it is far from perfect -- plz excuse any typos for the moment! if you were hoping for someone else, send smth to my inbox for my pseudo-kinktober thingy and i can cook something up...

---

It had been a long, rough, and scary day. You almost got yourself killed by your own careless mistake, and you were in denial about how close it was. After Chopper cleaned up your wounds, you slinked back to your room and sat on the bed, mulling over what happened just a few hours ago.

When Sanji knocked on the door softly, he told you how worried he was about you, how sick he felt the whole time, and how relieved he felt seeing your face after such a long time. He kissed every part of you that he could, peppering you with kisses and treating you like you were something precious.

After a couple hours of cuddling and sweetness, you ended up with blond hair tickling your face and deep groans rumbling in your ears. Sanji’s cock dragged over your g-spot countless times—you were in bliss, about to let go and give into the euphoric fervor of your climax. It felt so good to be back in your beloved’s arms, even better now that his cock was buried deep inside.

“S-sanji, ‘m gonna cum, keep going.”

He froze.

“C’mon baby,” he growled in your ear, feeling your walls pulse and constrict around his cock, but staying completely still. “You think I’m just gonna let you cream on my cock after what you pulled today? Almost getting yourself killed?”

“Sanjiii please, I want it” you pouted and whined, trying to move your hips to no avail. He brought a hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m being serious, gorgeous.” His tone was stern and all the lust in it seemed to disappear. “Never put yourself in danger like that again. You don’t know how fucking worried sick I was. Never play with my heart like that again.”

You frowned. “Sanji, I won’t. Now move.”

“Listen to me. I’m not going to move until I’ve gotten through your thick skull. Never put yourself in harm’s way again. Repeat it back to me.”

Your voice strained. You were starting to get desperate—he was just sitting inside of you not doing anything. It was going to drive you crazy. You had a shit day and just wanted him to fuck the pain away. “I promise I won’t ever put myself in harm’s way again, Sanji. I promise.” The pleasure and need were getting to your head, you’d do anything he said at this point.

“Never?”

You shook your head and glared up at him. “Never.”

“Now tell me how bad you want it.” He smirked and you complied, shamelessly.

“I want it Sanji. Please. Need your cock in me so bad.”

When he decided you’d begged enough, Sanji pulled out of you slowly and plunged back in. He fucked you hard and angled his tip so it pressed on your sensitive spot with each thrust. He rubbed your clit so much that you came within a few minutes, but he wanted to get his fill, so he kept fucking you.

“’s too much Sanji,” your eyes rolled back in your head, and you were shaking from the overstimulation.

“Too much? That’s what you get. That’s what you get for putting yourself in harms way. Do you understand?”

You nodded furiously and didn’t say anything else. The only sounds that left your lips were moans and mewls for him. The overstimulation was overwhelming, but he made it feel so good. Anything he did with his cock was mind-blowing, toe-curling magic.

By the time Sanji came in you, you had absolutely no clue what was going on. The pleasure whisked you away somewhere, but you were brought back to reality by his kisses.

“Good job my love. Don’t forget what you promised me, okay?”

“Mhm, Sanji. I won’t forget. I promise.”

He petted your head then asked you if you wanted to cum again, and of course you said yes.

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Negotiations (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Summary: Joe puts you in the glass cage and makes you negotiate for your freedom

Warnings: typical creepy Joe behavior (implied stalking, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, etc.), the reader either doesn't understand the full gravity of their situation or just doesn't care

A/N: I realized I never officially wrote something for it so here y'all go (this was written super quickly so idk if it's any good or not)

"So I had to do it, you see. I had to get rid of them. I had to save you," Joe insisted frantically, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you.

You'd woken up in the infamous glass cage underneath the bookstore he worked at, curiously looking around. The only thing you'd said so far was to ask where to you, to which he replied "somewhere safe". Talk about ominous.

"What if I need to go to the bathroom?" You spoke up suddenly, as you soon realized upon inspecting the inside of your new home that there wasn't a toilet. There was, however, a bucket.

"Well..." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided the question. It didn't take much for you to put two and two together.

You gave him a look that was a cross between disgust and disbelief. "I can't pee in a bucket, Joe."

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you out." He felt bad, sure, but he had to do this. He had to make sure that you were safe, even if it meant making you a little mad at him.

Crossing your arms, you turned in the opposite direction, refusing to look at him. Clearly you weren't too fond of your new living arrangements and were choosing to pout.

"Oh, come on, it isn't that bad," he lied upfront as he watched you. It was that bad, actually. Using a bucket to go to the bathroom was pretty gross.

And now he was starting to feel bad for putting you in this kind of situation. Anger was one thing, that he could handle. He could brace himself against that, or he rationalize away your worries or fears, but you seemed less genuinely upset and more annoyed than anything else.

He let out a heavy sigh as he contemplated his options. You were ignoring him, and he just couldn't have that. "If I let you out, you have to promise not to run away from me or anything like that. Understood?"

As if on cue, you turned back to face him again, a look of hope in your eyes. "Really?"

Joe tried not to let out a laugh when he saw you get close to the glass and press your face against it. "Yeah, really. Just- you have to move in with me. I don't want you living alone anymore. And I have to know where you are at all times."

Sure, he knew he could just follow you like usual, but he wanted you to be able to trust him. "And there's certain people that I don't want you hanging around anymore. Deal?"

Oh, god, what was he saying? This was going to be too much to put on you all at once. He should've just started with one small thing and gone from there, he shouldn't have given you an entire list-

"Deal."

Your voice instantly cut through his thoughts. Part of him wanted to believe you, even if he was a little suspicious that you'd agreed so quickly. Then again, you seemed so sincere, trusting even, observing him the same way anyone who truly loved their partner would: like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Could you let me out now? I really need to go pee."

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to the door of the cage and unlocked it, letting you out. "Remember what I told you, alright? I don't want to have to put you back in there," he tried to make himself sound stern, to show you that he wasn't playing around when he said that.

To his surprise, you responded by giving him a hug. "You're such a sweetheart, caring about me so much," you muttered affectionately.

He couldn't stop himself from melting into your touch. If this was an act, it was certainly working.

"I'll never, ever leave you."

God, you were going to be the death of him. "And I'll never let you go," he promised in turn.

He really meant it when he said that. He was never going to let you go. Not that you seemed to mind.

End notes: I don't know if this is any good or not honestly. I really wanted to write something for Joe but I was kind of at a loss for what exactly to write about so 🤷 send me some ideas though if y'all want

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | You masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[angel-gidget]

DC Plot Bunnies on my Brain

Time-traveling Kon talks to his younger self about Tana Moon. I’ve been exploring the 90’s Superboy corner of fandom lately, and boy do those guys have some thoughts about Tana Moon. Muy negative.

I think an adult Kon who had a chance to talk to his younger self might also be able to express some criticism of Tana, but he would not be harsh about it. I think he would still view his younger self as having a lot of agency, and he would still remember how much he loved her.

So how do you explain to your younger self that the current “love of their life” isn’t actually good for them? Very veeerry gently.

Kon bed-hopping fic. I actually started this one over a year ago and have snippets of it on my hard drive. Basically, after the Gemworld and multiversal hopping, Kon has a paranoia about being alone, and he doesn’t have a place to stay. (I wrote this before reading about the Kents remembering him after all, so this is written with the assumption that he has nowhere to go.)

So Young Justice takes turns housing him. And then the sleepovers end up being a pretty effective way of catching up with old friends like the core four and getting to know the new ones like Amy, Naomi, and Jinny.

Kon/Lophi slow-burn. In my current Kon fic, I imply that if YJ had showed up later than they had, Kon would have felt duty-bound to stay on the Gemworld to raise baby Martha. I could write a story exploring that as well as his and Lophi’s relationship. However, core four fuzzies would still be involved, bc the team would 100% find a way to visit Kon on the regular if he were stuck in another dimension.

Kon/Amy slow-burn. Set after the YJ multiverse hopping storyline. With no way to return to the Gemworld, Kon and Amy are left to mourn it together. This leads to bonding. Amy does, however, have some experience with going between worlds and have some coping mechanisms to offer Kon. In turn, he’s able to make her feel more at home with the team.

Amy Winston character exploration via Young Justice. There is a LOT to explore. For one thing, Amethyst was never a very character-driven comic, so there’s a lot of scenarios where I have no clue what Amy would do. So I gotta start writing to find out.

In her own 80’s title, Amy can go back and forth between being confidently heroic and remembering that she’s a scared kid. Part of that was the physical transformation she would go through. Turning into a physically 20-something a la Shazam made her feel more confident. But she doesn’t have that trait in YJ continuity.

So maybe her magic is the key? In the 80’s series, Amy’s magic was very strong on the Gemworld, but would fade to nothing when she crossed over to Earth.

So what if in this Wonder Comics YJ ‘verse, her magic is fading away slowly while she’s stuck on Earth and that gradually eats at her confidence? What if she does bond with the core four, but then becomes scared to tell them that the thing that (in her mind) makes her a superhero is fading away?

Post-Mini Series Amethyst story. I have a very detailed write-up of this in my drafts. I was very frustrated with Amy being turned into, like, a Gemworld deity thing at the end of her OG series. But I write out a plot taking place after it that would allow me to really come to terms with it and have fun with where the characters are at that point. Might post the outline later. Basically makes Amy, Young Princess Emerald, and Donal (Topaz and Turquoise’s son) all co-protagonists.

Tim/Cassie detective competition. In a (fairly recent?) Wonder Woman storyline, Cassie referred to herself as a detective, and asked for time to investigate the murder of Hypolyta. What if that had consequences? What if there is some kind of, idk, Teen Detective Competition and maybe Donna enters Cassie’s into it bc she thinks she’d be into it?

Of course, Tim has entered but only because he sees it as chance to get close to someone else he’s actually investigating. But as soon as he sees that Cassie is one of the entrants things get… genuinely competitive for both of them. And then the trash-talking somehow turns into flirting when neither of them were paying attention?

Tim/Cassie preboot Identity Exploration. Cassie is reveling in having Kon and Bart back from the dead. She and Kon are “just friends” now, and tho a lil’ awkward, it’s still good. But a few passing comments between the three of them lead Cassie to realize that some of the things she knows about Tim’s civilian identity are contradictory.

She begins to obsess a bit. After all, Tim was her main support through OYL and other hells, so shouldn’t she know him better than anyone?

Meanwhile, she is utterly failing to make a go of her “Drusila” identity. When Tim hears about that, he offers to help. And as Tim teaches Cassie how to be someone else, he ends up revealing things about himself that clarify some of those contradictions that stumped her earlier.

Tim/Greta set during 90's YJ. Steph gets frustrated with Tim's lecturing and breaks up with him. Secret sees this as an opportunity, and shoots her shot. Tim has had an insane day and decides "ok, why not?" Queue their relationship subtly changing events throughout the YJ and Robin series.

[virescent-v]

Drabble? 🥹

Goldilocks

Summary: Emily looks at you from across the bar. Warnings: none :) Word count: 875

Thirties and Flirties Lesbian night at Goldilocks was either a hit or miss. There could be a smattering of available and “normal” women to mingle with, or it could be a hodgepodge of people who were taken, weird, or timid that just didn’t mesh with the vibe you were after. 

To be fair, you weren’t sure what you were after. 

You just knew that being alone was weighing heavily on you. You were ready to settle down, sure, but you wouldn’t be opposed to a friends with benefits situation either. 

Apparently, it was the company that you were after. 

Sitting at the bar, a cold drink in hand, you did your routine of gazing around the bar. You started at the door, trying to catch anyone new walking in, then made your way to the dance floor, looking at bodies of all shapes and sizes grinding against each other. Shaking your head at some of the desperation oozing from some of them, you cast your eyes to the various tables scattered on the right side of the dance floor. Most people were already coupled or grouped up. 

However, at the last table closest to the bar, and already looking at you, was an absolutely breathtaking brunette. 

Her hair was almost black, eyes just as dark. She was wearing a tight, black dress, the neckline square across her collarbones. It showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but nowhere near as scandalous as some of the other dresses being worn tonight. Her makeup was smokey, bringing out the deep colors of her eyes. She had one hand resting on her hip and the other was toying with the rim of her glass. 

Trailing your eyes from the heels on her feet to her face, you realized that those deep eyes were already watching you. When you finally made eye contact, the brunette tilted her head far to the right, a small smile appearing. 

You felt something warm grow deep in the pit in your stomach. A shiver of excitement rolls up your spine and the hairs on your arms stand up. A way for your body to prepare you for the storm of the woman to (hopefully) approach you. 

Turning back to the bar, you order another drink and get the bartender to make whatever she was drinking. 

When the bartender passed the two drinks to you, you felt a light brush of fingers on your upper arm. “Any chance that’s for me?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you almost gasped. She was even more beautiful up close. You found yourself getting lost in the details of her; long eyelashes, a sculpted nose, full lips. Every trace of your eyes over her skin brought new details that you tried to memorize. 

Cooling yourself, you smiled, turning towards her. “Sure is. How’d you know?” You handed her the drink. 

She smiled as she took a small sip. You were enraptured by how her lips curled around the rim of the glass. You imagined them wrapped around yours, how soft they would feel moving with yours. 

“I had a hope,” Emily said, dragging her eyes up your form. “I haven’t seen you at Goldilocks before.” 

You made a noncommittal noise. “Interesting. I come here often. Do you?” 

Emily smiled, shrugged. “When work allows.” She took another sip of her drink before placing the cup down on the bar. “Excuse me if I’m being a little forward, but would you like to dance?” 

Placing your drink down beside hers, you extend your hand, which she happily takes before dragging you out into the middle of the floor. 

You can feel the deep bass thumping within your chest, instantly drowning out any further conversation. Your heart beat starts to match the pulsating music, the pulsating of bodies around you. 

Emily drags you towards her, bringing your arms around her neck, effectively slotting your hips against hers. It makes your breath catch. 

You both start to move with the beat of the music, keeping eye contact that grows heavier with each passing moment. As the songs blend and mesh into the background of your thoughts, Emily’s hands begin to wander, rubbing up and down your back, around your arms. 

As the sweat builds on your bodies and your quickened breath mingles together, the tension rises and rises. There’s almost no discernable space between you two, your noses brushing. 

Just as the tension almost reaches its zenith, a passerby in the crowd bumps into you, forcing you off balance, making you almost fall to the ground. 

Before you tumble fully, warm, strong arms embrace you, hauling you back upright. Brushing hair out of your face, Emily’s eyes track over you. “Are you alright?” 

You blush deeply, embarrassed at such a moment. “Thanks to you.” 

Emily smiles before her eyes search the crowd for the person responsible. Having lost them in the sea of people, her dark eyes turn to you. “Want to move somewhere more quiet? There’s a late night cafe open next door.” 

You tilt your head down, tucking more hair behind your ear, bashful. Looking up from under your lashes, your cheeks heat again. “Yes, please.” 

Emily smirks, grabs your hand, before dragging you towards the front door of the club. 

[redpanda-redpanda]

✏️

[fingertipsmp3]

Not to be one of those people who complains but why are the two library books I reserved 3 weeks ago (as the first person in the queue mind you. And both of them are popular books with multiple copies available) still not ready

[lqnar]

i should write this stuff in my diary

[cielospeaks]

aime tachi plot: everything has to make sense, there are rules for the story even tho its self indulgent, yadda yadda, character development, progression consistency

dreamdom hearts plot: anyways the dream works au versions of fe characters and my oc recruit enjoyable single dw villains to go have slightly creepypasta shenanigans with a presumably dead oc

[sorcerous-caress]

I hope you are doing well

Did I- Did I make it seem like I'm going crazy or something? Like yes I am okay, I promise.

Well, no. I lied, but I'm not worse than normal. I have always been this deranged. It is not out of the ordinary. Why the concerns now?

But thank you anyways, I hope you're doing well too.