#because their quirk activates

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

[princess-of-the-corner]

I was looking for a different post and found my post on projecting chronic pain on the Todorokis.

And now I REALLY want some bodyswap shenanigans where it's like 'hey what the fuck why are you constantly in pain????'/ "Huh? Doesn't everyone feel like that???"/"NO?!?!?!"

[scary-grace]

"For the first day of 12 Days of Christmas event in the X Reader Lovers community,"

AND ELEVEN MORE AFTER THIS OEN??? THIS IS HAVIN G THE SAME PHYSICAL EFFEC TON MY BODY WAS WOULD THREE LINES OF PUREST COCAINE.

I'm going to try to do all twelve! I'm not sure if I can make it -- I didn't do any writing in advance, so I'll be writing day of or close to it, but I would love to a) practice writing short and b) come up with a response to all of the prompts.

[melatien]

when i imagine villain yoichi i imagine hes afo but opposite - my guy rocking a white suit with his hair combed back

[mishy-mashy]

Ray (BNHA Resistance OC) incorrect quotes

(Context: Ray is his codename. An OC forced into joining the Resistance after Bruce accidentally concussed him. His Ability was useful, so they wanted him)

~

Ray: I don’t have a New Year’s resolution

Yoichi: You could relax a bit more

Bruce: You could take a bath.

Kudo: Don’t be such a bitch.

Ray: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

-

Kudo: We've decided to adopt.

Ray, still concussed: Congratu-

Bruce, slamming recruitment papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

-

Bruce: Before I forget, do you have any special requests?

Ray: Death penalty.

Bruce: Ray-kun, it’s just about living accommodations.

Ray, whispering: Please kill me.

-

Bruce: Why did you dress up as each other for this mission?

Ray: Leader is the scariest thing I could think of.

Kudo: Ray told me I should pick the dumbest disguise possible.

-

Kudo: Ray, I think you need glasses.

Ray: Leader, my vision is fine. Look.

Ray: *points at Kudo* Leader.

Ray: *points to Bruce* Bruce.

Ray: *points to Yoichi* All For One.

-

Yoichi: When I cried about my brother to Kudo, he hugged me and told me he'd carry my feelings into his battles

Ray: The first time Leader was ever nice to me, I thought he was a fake. It was such a disaster that I avoided him for like a week.

-

Kudo: The first time Yoichi opened a box of Cheerios and looked inside he yelled, "OH WOW! DONUT SEEDS!"

Kudo:

Kudo: I love him so much.

-

Bruce: It's locked. Can you open it?

Ray: Yeah-

Kudo: *kicks in the vault door*

-

Kudo, on the way back from rescuing Yoichi: You need to be more careful.

Ray, who was forced into this: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

-

Kudo: Ray finally learned his gun had a safety lock, but he assembled a rifle last week.

Bruce: This reminds me of the Ray who couldn’t open a tabbed can, but can break into any lock.

Kudo: This is the very same Ray.

-

Bruce: This is the best idea I've ever had in my life!

*Many years later*

Kudo, to Bruce: Letting All For One take Ray's Quirk was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your life.

[aestheticitii]

something about fairy godmother!merlin after gudako lets it slip that she thinks cindereli's dress is gorgeous and that she'd love to try it on makes me feral

so of course, when she wakes up in the middle of the night, she's in a beautiful castle, in a beautiful dress, staring at the mirror like she can't believe it's actually her

and then comes a knock at the door, and who appears but merlin himself, dressed up and ready to escort her to the ball

and there are tons of people there, mostly background characters with little bearing on her day to day life, but some of them are also the friends and family and classmates she hasn't seen in what feels like years

randomly, servants enter her dream and get put into appropriate costumes. abby and dantes are also there the entire time as bodyguards (abby is her lady in waiting/maid and dantes is her suave mercenary friend, it's in the script that merlin never ends up giving her), mash is there as a princess from a neighboring kingdom, and oberon is ALSO there, he forced himself there because he got no invite and he heard about it from castoria, and kind of miffed he didn't hear about this first because he can also do that. it's very important to him that gudako knows that, even if he'll never do it for her, obviously

she spends the night dancing away (always making sure to check on merlin, though he doesn't dance himself), until the clock hits twelve and merlin spirits her back to a room that looks like chaldea, but there are subtle touches to it that suggest its either OG chaldea or novum chaldea with the things she's missing from her OG room that sion couldn't replicate

and he makes her some hot chocolate, mimicking a certain someone (which causes a brief lull in the conversation after which merlin mocks the man mercilessly, but in a very frenemy way, and it gets a small smile out of her as she tells him not to make fun of the dead, but she's still agreeing with him), and they talk about how fun the night was

until gudako jokes about how she didn't have a prince charming. you can't have fairy tales without prince charming, who is the princess supposed to marry??

they end up debating whether she actually didn't have one or if she just isn't a princess who needs a prince charming right now (gudako rejects the premise that she doesn't want one—why does everyone else get knight kings, she says, pointing at shirou and hakuno for artoria and charlie), and she offhandedly says that if fairy godmothers looked like him, prince charmings would be out of a job

and that—

and that catches him off guard because the very next thing she says is "maybe prince charming was the fairy godmother who helped me along the way"

and he automatically says, "i'm not sure that's how the saying goes, my lord"

but anything else he can say dies in his throat when she stands up and asks him to dance with her and how can he say no when she's smiling at him so brilliantly

"shall we, o' wizard of mine?"

"as my lord commands."

and they live happily ever after

(when morning comes, gudako wakes up to a surprise in her bed. she figures out pretty quickly that he's just pretending to sleep, so she kicks him off her bed.

"my lord is a cruel master," he complains, cuddling her.

after they show up to breakfast like that, gawain straight up asks if she needs him to bail her out and is extremely disappointed when he finds that's not the case.)

[fandsart]

I think all the time about the fact that he sometimes slips into past tense narration in his head. This boy is so dissociative. That's not the behavior of someone whose feet are both fully planted in reality.

"I wasn't sure they knew what a week was" also stands out to me

[saltyfilmmajor]

Takes 4 hours to watch a 2 hour film because I keep pausing to talk about localization quirks

[seens]

going through the hades 2 stuff and im sorry but i just have to ramble a second because look at Hephaestus

he's not just a wheelchair user but also an amputee. an above knee amputee. wheelchair users are already next to nonexistant in video games but amputees exist in this really...disheartening? spot where they're pretty much just reduced to "person with a cybernetic limb" - it's always just somewhere from "just a cool visual design" to flat out "superpower". I can't think of a video game amputee that is actually disabled by their limb differences - I'm all for futuristic worlds where prosthetics and other disability aids are far advanced from what they are now, but that's not really what's implied by these designs. They're just... Cool designs that in no way reflect on the real-world experience of being an amputee.

Look at Hephaestus, though. Look at that prosthetic. Whilst stylised it very much looks like it functions like common mechanical knees - knee bends when thigh is lifted, knee straightens when thigh is lowered. He's a wheelchair user as well as a prosthetic user - every prosthetic user I know is also a wheelchair user as a prosthetic is not usable in every occasion and also cause exhaustion and pain if used constantly.

Whilst we can't see much of his wheelchair the position he's sat in and the wheels very much evoke active wheelchair to me - this carries on to very specifically the thickness of his arms. Whilst a lot of Hades designs are muscular Hephaestus has very noticeably thick arms - which makes sense, as active wheelchairs require a lot of arm strength.

Just overall this design is making me want to cry - he's not just an actual wheelchair user in a video game, he's a realistic depiction of an amputee, a disability usually brushed over in order to give a character a fun design quirk and nothing else. He's fat and he's hot and he's a realistic depiction of an above knee amputee. Oh my god. Oh my god?

[princess-of-the-corner]

Ok so here's a question I now have to ask myself. Himiko's quirk means she needs blood to stay healthy yeah? So if she enters the metaverse would she have a clear mind? She has no quirk there so would so she shouldn't feel the after effects of her quirk. But the after effects impact her health and that isn't going away under erasure.

Hm.

so two answers to this but the short one would be that it still effects her.

1.) I think her body would still react the same as if there was any other deficiency. Like if you're low on iron or whatever. The Metaverse might negate some of the outright bloodlust, but she's not going to be magically healed

and

2.) you said that mutation Quirks stick around in the Metaverse. And to /me/ there is a thin line between a lot of Quirks on what qualifies as at least partly mutation. I'd say Himiko's counts as a partial mutation because her body has mutated to need blood consumption. So while she can't transform, she still needs to consume blood(along with assumedly protecting her from like prion disease or something)

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[labelneo]

i’m a good girl, officer.

summary: junho hadn’t been the same since his disappearance. he wanted to make it up to you.

pairing: husband!junho x detective!reader

length: 5k words

warnings: 18+, dni w/ this fic if you are a minor!!, female reader, pet names, junho praising reader, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, cream pie, marriage problems resolved through make up sex, passionate sex, junho bending you over his office desk, unprotected sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: request are open! also, lmk if you would like to be on my squid game fics tag list!

Sitting in your office across from Junho’s, you had spent the past few hours at the station looking through active cases you were working on. Your office was only being filled by the sound of you flipping pages, and your attention was set on the work in front of you until you heard footsteps coming into the hall. You look up from your desk to see your husband as he walks straight past your door and into his office, slamming his door shut in the process. 

Not even a good morning, you think to yourself. Rude. 

But, not surprising. You would be wrong if you didn’t admit that your husband’s recent behavior had been, well, frustrating. You had already almost lost your mind the day you received a call from your shared boss about some fisherman having found his body in the middle of the ocean with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, and he wasn’t making the situation you both were in now any easier. 

The weeks following his disappearance had been more than confusing. He swore he couldn’t remember what had happened to him, but you knew better than that. After all, you both worked the same profession that required skills such as reading people. Also, he was your husband for goodness sake. You knew his quirks, and you especially knew when he was lying. You’d watch how he would break out in a sweat in the middle of the night, how he would keep a map stashed away at his desk and at your shared apartment with different islands having been circled, hiding it to make sure you never saw it, or how he seemed more vigilante when the two of you traveled on the subway. He swore nothing was wrong, but you knew better. 

So, one day, after work, you had had enough of Junho and his behavior. You were tired of the secrets and the sneaking out in the middle of the night when he thought you were asleep. Dinner between the two of you had been quiet that evening, and you had had enough at that point. Slamming your dishes down into the sink, you cursed at Junho, asking him what was going on with him. He was hesitant, but he knew he couldn’t keep hiding the truth from you any longer. He knew you were good at your job, so he knew he needed your help as well. He told you about the island, the games, and about a man named Gi-hun. You were shocked to say the least, but you knew he was telling the truth. You believed him, and you made sure to let him know you would help him to take down the games. 

Yet, him telling you the truth didn’t smooth out the rough spot your marriage was in. Junho had become so focused on bringing the games down, he also had lost focus on the intimacy between the two of you. He didn’t ever seem up for anything anymore, and although you knew how occupied he kept himself because how important taking down the games was to him, you missed him more than you let on. You missed his attention; you missed his touch. 

So, you hated how easy it seemed for him to ignore you at home and, now, also at work. If he didn’t want to have sex with you at home because he was “too tired” to do anything due to how busy he was, fine. It hurt your feelings, but you knew how determined he was. But, he didn’t have to ignore you at work either. You were still his co-worker.

I’m also your wife, you asshole. 

You let out a huff, not sure what to do. This behavior had already been going on for a while, so you try your best to let it go. 

When lunch hour came around, you got up from your desk and grabbed your coat from the back of your chair. If Junho wasn’t going to remember to put in effort into the relationship because of how busy he was, you decided it would be best for you to remind him that he was still married. There was a new spot you wanted to try, and you were hoping the two of you could spend the afternoon having lunch together. 

However, your intentions were halted when you saw Junho walk out of his office, not even stopping to glance in the direction of yours. You quickly put on your coat, rushing out your office door before he disappears to wherever he has to go now. 

“Junho!” 

Turning when he heard you calling out for him, Junho stopped walking out the building. “Hey, I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m meeting up with Gi-hun for lunch.”

You blink slowly in amusement at your husband. A part of you wanted to blow up on him at that moment, but you knew better than to do that at work, especially when the front desk workers were now staring at the both of you. So, you don’t say anything. And, Junho, being too busy in that moment with regards to what he and Gi-hun were meeting up to discuss, walked out the door when you didn’t say anything to stop him from walking out the building. 

Another two hours go by before you see your husband come back from his meeting. It’s the same routine, walking past your office, not saying anything to you, walking straight into his office, and closing the door behind him. 

Again, a part of you is telling you to let it go, but you have had enough at this point. Getting up from your chair, you make your way to his office, not bothering to knock. Junho felt himself get upset for a second thinking someone had walked into his office without knocking and unannounced, until he realized it had been you. 

“Y/N,” Junho says, looking back down at the map on his desk, “if it isn’t important, I’m busy right now. Can we talk when we get home?”

You look down at the same map that had been getting more attention than you had been getting for the past few months. You shake your head and scoff at your husband, who doesn’t look up even when you're standing right in front of him. 

“Junho,” you start to say, and Junho can hear the tone in your voice, “I’m your wife, you remember that right?”

Junho, confused by the question, looks up at you as he frowns. He knew you were his wife, he went home to you every day.

“Of course I know that. What are you getting at?” 

You tip your head to the side slightly, almost as if you were trying to get your thoughts across to him without saying anything directly. “You didn’t say good morning to me this morning.”

Junho huffs in response, not amused with what you had said. “I’m sorry, I had a lot to do once I got here.” He didn’t understand what was so important about it. 

“You didn't say good morning to me at home either.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have a lot of work to do, okay? Whatever this is, we can talk about it at home.”

“That’s the thing, Junho,” you respond, bringing your hands out in front of you, “You have a lot of work today. You also had a lot of work yesterday, and the day before, and you’ll have a lot of work tomorrow too. We won’t talk about it when you get home because this is the way it’s been for months now!”

Junho looks up at you, rubbing his forehead due to now feeling bothered himself. “Do you think this is an appropriate conversation to be having at work?”

“Do you think the way you've been treating me has been an appropriate way to treat your wife?”

Junho doesn't say anything. He’s not sure what to say, and you don’t feel like talking to the wall he has become. You turn on your heel and make your way out his office, knowing that his silence was his answer to what you had just said. 

“Whatever, Junho. When you decide to act like my husband again, let me know.” 

You went home at your usual time that day, and that night, Junho went home later than you had. It was nothing new to either of you, but Junho felt especially guilty having done that the same day as the argument you both had had at the station. He had gone home to find you already asleep in your shared bedroom, analyzing your body while you laid peacefully under the sheets.

He missed you, just as much as you missed him. He knew things hadn’t been the same between the two of you, but he hadn’t realized how affected you had become because of it. You were right, he hadn’t been giving the attention you deserved. 

You had been there for him those days he laid in the hospital after he had been found, and you didn’t call him crazy like his boss had when he told you about the games. You had stuck with him through all the thick and thin he had been going through, and he hadn’t repaid you for how patient you had been with him.  

The next day at work, you wake up and make your way to the station. You had woken up to an empty bed that morning, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it stung you more than usual. After the talk you had with Junho the previous day, you thought something would have changed, but you had ended up being wrong. 

You were surprised to get to the office and see that Junho was already in his office, his door unusually open. You ignore it, not wanting to have another confrontation. 

Making your way to your office and sitting in your chair, everything was happening as it usually does, until you heard a knock at your door. Looking up, you see your husband standing there. It surprises you, given that he seemed to never give you much attention at work anymore. 

“Would you,” he says, leaning against the door frame, “want to get lunch with me, later?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t remember the last time he had asked you to spend time together. Nodding in agreement, a small smile falls on your face. Junho smiles back in response, telling you to go to his office during lunch hour once you were ready to go. 

Once it does, you make your way to your husband’s office, a small spring in your step, you think this is finally the chance to spend some time with your husband. 

That is until you go inside to see that he wasn’t in office anymore. You think he may have just gone to the restroom or taken a phone call outside. You decide to sit in his chair and wait for him to come back. There’s no way he would just bail on you. 

Right?

As you wait, 5 minutes turns into 10, and then 20, and then 30, and suddenly, an hour has already gone by. You had kept yourself busy reading through his case files and looking at that stupid map a dozen times before you got up from his seat.

Screw him.

You don’t know why you even had your hopes up. Junho had, yet again, ignored you completely after having gotten your hopes up. Upset, you get up from his chair and make your way out of his office and into yours, before Junho comes rushing in. He sees the look you have on your face, and he knows you're pissed. 

“Hey, look, I’m sor-”

“No,” you say, putting your hand up to stop him, “I really don't want to hear it.” 

You attempt to make your way out of his office before Junho slams his door shut and stands in front of it. 

“I’m sorry! Okay? I got a call from Gi-hun about a lead in the case, and it was urgent, so I left in a hurry.” 

You shake your head. “I really don’t care, Junho. One afternoon! You couldn’t even make time to spend one afternoon getting lunch with me. It’s like you don’t even care anymore.” 

Junho shakes his head back at you. “That’s not true, and you know that.”

“Do I?” You respond back. “It’s like you don't even remember that we’re married. You never pay me any attention anymore.” 

You continue to question him, sensing all your feelings crash down all at once. “You don’t say good morning to me in the morning anymore, you don’t say bye before you leave to where ever it is you go on the weekend, you don’t give me any updates on the case, and you ignore me at home and at work. We don’t spend any time together anymore because you're always too busy. I mean Junho…do you not love me anymore?”

Junho freezes at the last part of your statement. Of course he loves you. He knew he hadn't been the best husband lately, but how could you possibly think that?

You sigh in frustration. You've already said too much, you think, might as well keep going. “You don’t want to do anything with me anymore, and…you don’t even want to sleep with me anymore. So, I don’t know what to think.” 

Junho’s eyes soften as he hears you talk, shifting around on his feet. He feels guilty. He never intended for you to ever feel unwanted, and he, especially, never intended for you to feel unloved. 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You lock eyes with Junho. Baby. You couldn't remember the last time he had called you something lovingly. 

“I never wanted you to feel that way.” Junho stepped towards you to get rid of the space between the two of you, bringing you into an embrace. You’re still upset, and you know you shouldn't, but you melt into his touch. You knew you needed to be stronger, but you were desperate for any kind of attention from him at this point. 

Junho leans back to look at your face. He sees your pout, and he leans down to peck your lips. 

Junho’s testing the waters, and when you don’t retaliate he kisses you again and again. He wants to make up the way he’s been treating you. Junho goes in for another kiss, and this time, he picks you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. You let out a squeal at his action before he finds your lips again. You know you should probably try to talk things out more, but you're loving this new found attention. Once he has you wrapped around him. Junho doesn’t stop kissing you even when he sits you down on his desk, and you don't mind. He has his hand on the back of your neck, having a constant pull on you to keep you close to his lips. His other hand is placed on your thigh and you feel his touch shooting up your body. 

You can’t help but sneak your hands under his shirt, feeling him up. You knew your husband was fit, but you didn't mind the reminder of what he hide under his shirt as you felt his stomach and abs. Junho doesn't mind either, your touch sending chills down his body. He was sensitive to your touch, especially since he hadn’t felt you touch in a while. 

And, god, did he miss it. It was his own fault, he knew that. He never meant to neglect you in any way, he had just been so busy trying to solve his own dilemmas that he had forgotten to balance out his attention on both you and his problems. 

Junho kisses you down your neck, and you throw your head back at the sensation. His soft lips travel all the way down to your collar bone thanks to your button up. His hands are on your thighs, gripping them hard as he concentrates on the soft moans coming from your mouth. He can feel the bulge growing in his pants, and he lets out a moan of his own when he feels you waste no time in starting to grind yourself against it. 

Taking a step back, he listens as you whine at the distance he’s just created. You look down at him up and down, seeing the way his cock is starting to become more pronounced under his pants. You reach out for him, needing him close to you before he grabs your hands and puts them on your side. Shaking his head slightly, he takes a step back to you before reaching down to the buttons of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them as he doesn't break eye contact with you. 

“Let me make it up to you, baby.” 

You don’t say anything as he finishes unbuttoning your pants. He pulls your pants completely off, discarding them onto the floor before connecting his lips with yours again. Up to this point, his kisses had been gentle, almost like an apology. This time, his kiss is desperate, needy. His hands are back at your thighs, gripping them. He had forgotten how soft you were. He had missed this feeling just as much as you had, and you're driving him crazy as your hands touch him all over. 

Junho pulls away, and just as you were about to complain again, you watch him lower himself to kneel down infront of you. He takes his time to press kisses from your ankle and make his way up, slowly and steadily. He kisses up your exposed inner thighs, not breaking eye contact with you once.  Your legs start to shake, excited at the idea of Junho finally giving you the attention you've been craving for months now. He nips at your inner thighs, loving the way you twitch at the feeling. He can see the dampness becoming more and more prominent on your undies, causing him to smirk. 

“I want to make you feel good, gorgeous.”

You don’t say anything. All you feel is your pussy pulsing more and more as Junho gets closer and closer to your heat. He’s barely started, and he’s already driving you crazy. 

Junho takes wet kisses the rest of the way up your thighs before licking your clothed pussy. You shiver at the sensation, letting out a moan. Your sounds only fuel his need to please you. He takes long licks at your inner thigh, wanting to make you more impatient for his attention. Once he’s satisfied with his work, having left small bruises to your soft, plush thighs, he pulls your panties to the side, groaning when he sees how wet you are. 

“Look at you, already so wet for me.”

Junho leans in, placing his tongue on your wetness and taking a lick. You reach out to grab him, running your hand through his hair before settling and gripping at his hair, feeling yourself getting lost in the feeling. He could feel his dick leaking and twitching in his pants, loving the feeling of you grabbing at him and enjoying how quickly he could undo you in minutes. He doesn’t take a second to slow down, eating you out in the ways he knew you liked. Moving his tongue up and down, he takes in your taste while moaning against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice causing your pussy to clench around nothing. You were in desperate need for him to fill you up, but his tongue was doing wonders against you. Swirling his tongue around, he can feel you getting sensitive, feeling how you instinctively start to pull away from him. Realizing, he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls your body closer to his face. 

Continuing to swirl his tongue around, he takes a long, wet lick up your slit before he focuses his attention on your clit. Sucking on it, he feels like he's about to cum just looking at you as your eyes roll back, your back arches on his desk, and how your breasts pop out more out your chest. He hadn’t even realized you had unbuttoned your shirt and taken out your breasts. 

Moaning at the site, he lets his mouth come off you with a loud, wet pop. Your panting only fueled him to keep making you feel good with his attention. Leveling himself, he takes a long lick from your lower belly all the up your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth while looking up at you, sucking on it like he was hungry to take as much of you in as he could. The view of him under your eye sight, him giving all his attention with his eyes looking up at you through his lashes with praise and admiration, you feel yourself starting to remember how good your husband had become in pleasing you during your time together. Before you can even catch your breath, Junho takes one of his hands to your breast, massages it with his palm. His other hand makes its way down to your now dripping pussy, barely hovering over it before you start grinding yourself against his fingers. 

He was intoxicated with your noises of pleasure and the taste of you. The sight of you coming undone in front of him on his desk, your legs spread open and your pussy dripping for him made him think about all the other dirty things he wanted to do to you. Taking his lips off your now raw and exposed nipple, he easily thrusted his fingers into you from how wet you were. Your eyes are closed, so you can’t see the way Junho is looking at you, but his stare is all set on your now. He checks you out, he couldn’t believe he had let you, his wife, go this long without this kind of attention. You were, to him, the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, and now you were here, on his desk, moaning his name. Leaning forward he kisses your jaw and makes his way to your ear, taking in how your mouth is opened due to all the sensations you were feeling. 

“Look at you, sitting here so pretty for me. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You hum in response, only being able to concentrate on his fingers and how he curled his fingers inside of you. He chuckles, showing off the smile that drove you crazy. By now, you’re a mess, and Junho doesnt think he can wait any longer. You’re sitting on his desk, legs spread out and your chest completely exposed. Before you can even think about something to say, Junho removes his fingers instead of you, much to your disappointment. You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them. 

You had forgotten how crazy Junho could make you. 

By now, your pussy is throbbing, and you feel the need for Junho to be inside you. Junho can’t ignore the tightness in his pants anymore, and he quickly moves to remove his shirt from off his body. You watch as his lower stomach is exposed, to his chest, until he no longer has his shirt on anymore. His abs are as defined as always, but you still reach out to feel him up all the way up to his chest. Junho is no longer in the mood for teasing or simple touches, he needed to feel himself inside of you. 

Finally reaching for his pants, you look down to see how he takes off his pants and boxers in a swift motion down to his ankles, his dick springing free. Junho was your husband, so obviously you had slept with him before. But after going this long without sex, you stare in awe at his dick, red and leaky. You knew he was big, but you didn’t remember him being that big. 

“This is what you do to me, baby.” Junho takes his own hand down to his own member, stroking it while you watch him. Junho grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him. There’s a gloss in your eyes, and he knows he has you right where he wants you to be, needy for him. 

“Are you going to be a good for me, mh? Are you gonna let me make you feel good?”

A whiny mhm comes out your mouth. You'd be whatever he wanted you to be. A good girl comes out his lips before he’s flipping you over on his desk, grabbing your waist and pulling your ass up to give him access to stick his cock inside of you. You whine softly, pushing your ass back into him, feeling desperate for him to fill you up. The hardness of his cock against you is making you excited, and Junho can’t help but take in the sight of you in front of him. The plumpness of your ass against his cock only makes him feel more and more turned on. His head is now red and needy for you. Junho slaps his cock against your ass before he guides it into your folds, letting your dripping pussy get all over him. He grips your ass at the feeling before Junho thrusts himself into you, and he can’t stop himself from praising you. 

A long drawn out fuck comes out his lips at the same time you let a sensual sound come out your lips. You knew Junho didn’t like you being quiet. You knew he wanted to hear how good he was making you feel.  

Junho, on the other hand, let out a sound of pleasure at the sound feeling of you around him. He hadn’t been inside you for a while now, and he can’t believe how he could've gone this long without feeling your pussy around him. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good.”

You’re too concentrated on the feeling of Junho finally stretching you out that you almost don’t hear him. He knows you're out of it too, seeing how you don’t react to his praise. Leaning forward, he grabs your chin, turning your head to kiss you before he stops milli inches from your lips. You whine, leaning forward to kiss him before he pulls back. 

“My pretty girl, you like that? How I make you feel?” 

You let out a breathy yes, and suddenly, you feel yourself holding back screams. Junho, being your husband, knows all the squishy spots inside of you that make you go crazy, and he was making sure he filled you up exactly the way he knew you liked, the way he knew would make you cum on his dick. His office is filled with the slaps of his balls hitting your ass, and Junho now has his hands on your waist, pulling you in harder and harder back to his cock. He watches the way your ass bounces on him. The way his hands fit perfectly into the curves of your body, the way he fits inside your pussy, the way your moaning his name makes him swear to himself that you must have been made exactly for him. 

He’s stretching you out perfectly, making sure he fills you up as much as he can. You feel so good, so fucked out. You had missed this feeling so much. 

You bent over his desk, so exposed, and with your shared boss only a few doors down, you feel so dirty knowing how you loved to do it with Junho in scandalous places. You remember back to the days the two of you had been cops together, and how the both of you patrolling the same nights would end in you riding Junho in the driver seat. You couldn’t help yourself, you loved a man in uniform. 

You knew Junho wouldn’t let himself cum until you did, so you let yourself get lost in the pleasure he was giving you and the sound of his grunts until you start feeling that tightness in your womb. Junho sees how you instinctively start rocking yourself more against his cock, and he knows you're close to finishing.  

“That’s it, gorgeous. Come on my cock, baby.” 

The stretching in your pussy, the name calling, the sounds of Junho moaning your name was the perfect combination, enough to send you into your release. Junho watches as your grip at the edge of his desk. You let out a moan, calling out for him as he feels your pussy clench around him and your wetness increases. He feels himself slipping in and out of you faster, and he feels his ego rise knowing that he had made you finish as strongly as you did.  

You feel Junho’s stroke starting to get sloppy, and you feel his grip starting to become tighter around your waist. He slaps your ass, and your ass perks up at the feeling. Reaching out for him while he stood behind you, you run your hand against his chest, and Junho doesn’t think he can take your touch and the feeling of him ramming himself into you at the same time. 

“Come for me, handsome. I’ve been a good girl. I want to feel you come inside of me.”

Junho can’t stop himself from being affected by your words, and the warmth you suddenly feel inside of you lets you know he was filling you up with his cum. You groan at the feeling, loving how his seed fills you up. 

Junho pants from his spot behind you, and you lay yourself down on his desk, trying to compose yourself as well. You’re so sensitive, but you feel so much euphoria all over your body. Junho, seeing as you're not moving, bends down and kisses you up your back, knowing how sensitive you are to the feeling. Your back aches again at the feeling.  

“Fuck, baby. Mhm. You make me feel so good.”

Junho chuckles, leaning forward a bit more to kiss your cheek. 

“I promise to always make sure to take care of my girl.”

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TAGLIST (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in smut)!! : @vinaluvsu @ninglovr @okaycharr

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[seumyo]

imagine how heavy bakugou’s gauntlets are to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had done to deserve this.

Maybe you had done something awful in your past life, and it’s finally come to bite you back in the ass.

Sure, you were a UA student. Sure, you had signed up for the hero course, fully aware that it would involve combat training. But this? Holding onto one of Bakugou’s gauntlets—the same gauntlets that had nearly blown Midoriya through a building during the first battle exercise?

You could already see your funeral.

Your relatives all coming together under one roof to mourn you.

Your fingers curled stiffly around the massive piece of equipment, your right arm straining slightly under its sheer weight. You had always known they were heavy—Bakugou’s combat style revolved around explosive power, and he wasn’t the type to wield anything flimsy—but this?

This felt like holding a compact boulder.

A boulder filled with nitroglycerin-laced sweat.

That part was arguably worse.

It’s like lifting a weight that never really lightens over time.

Your mind raced with the implications.

His gauntlets stored his sweat to maximize explosive output. Which meant the one you were holding was loaded. Which meant if you even thought about holding it wrong, you’d be gone. Reduced to nothing but a crisp outline on the ground.

Holding an explosive hazard had never been part of your bucket list.

You could not channel your inner Meredith Grey and take one for the team to hold a bomb.

“I—” you started, your voice thin and weak. “I don’t think I should be holding this.”

Bakugou, standing in front of you with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. “And why the hell not?”

Because it was a bomb, for starters.

Because it was his bomb, specifically made for him, and you had just been handed it like it was some casual training exercise and not a potential death sentence.

Instead of voicing any of this, you swallowed hard and said, “I—I just don’t think I’m qualified? Don’t I need to have a seminar for this? Maybe a safety waiver?”

Bakugou scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

Your grip tightened reflexively.

Oh god, was that too tight?

Was it going to go off?

Bakugou’s eyes flicked down to your hands, then back to your face. “Your Quirk makes shit weightless and indestructible, right?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“Then you’re the best person to hold it,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted. “You wanna play defense all the time? Fine. But in the real world, you need to learn how to hit back. Can’t stand your damsel-in-distress act every situation, shithead.”

You bit your lip.

He wasn’t wrong, but… you had seen firsthand how much destruction his Quirk could cause. He had gone all out against Midoriya back then, using these very same gauntlets to unleash a massive blast that almost ruptured an entire building. You hadn’t even been in the fight, but you had felt the heat from a distance and had heard the deafening roar of the explosions echoing across the control room.

And now you were the one holding it.

“…It’s not gonna explode on me, right?” you asked.

Bakugou rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t get stuck.

“Not unless you’re stupid.”

That wasn’t reassuring.

Not at all.

You swallowed again, forcing yourself to focus. You weren’t completely helpless. Your Quirk made whatever you held weightless and invincible. If you activated it now, you wouldn’t have to worry about the gauntlet’s weight—or about dropping it by accident and, in turn, detonating it.

Taking a deep breath, you firmly held the gauntlet with both hands.

The effect was immediate.

The heaviness vanished entirely, replaced by a strange, almost floating sensation. Your fingers adjusted around the gauntlet’s surface with ease, no longer struggling against its weight. A faint, translucent glow coated the edges, a telltale sign that your Quirk had fully activated.

You exhaled, relieved.

“Okay. I think I got it.”

Bakugou smirked. “Took you long enough.” He stepped in close without warning, his hands reaching for your wrists.

You barely had time to react before his grip closed around them, adjusting your stance.

Your brain blanked.

Bakugou was close. Too close.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his fingers strong and sure as they repositioned your hold. He smelled like sweat and burnt caramel—like fire and something sharper underneath, something distinctly him.

(You tried not to think about it too much.)

If you hadn’t already been panicking about the gauntlet, you definitely were now.

(You were falling—ahem, failing at not thinking too much about it.)

“Loosen up,” he said, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You’re gripping it like it’s a fucking live grenade.”

“Isn’t it, though?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

He grinned.

Oh no.

That was a bad sign.

“Not yet,” he said, sounding far too entertained. “But it will be.”

You let out a strangled noise.

Bakugou ignored it, stepping behind you so that you were completely boxed in by his presence. His hands remained firm on yours, his chest nearly pressing against your back as he guided your aim.

Your brain was screaming.

It wasn’t like you were new to close contact—UA training often involved being thrown around by classmates—but this was different. This was Bakugou Katsuki, infamous for his temper and even more explosive Quirk, pressed up against you like it was nothing. Like you weren’t about to spontaneously combust just from the sheer proximity.

Maybe you were thinking too much into it.

“Alright,” he murmured, tilting your wrists slightly. “On my mark, let go.”

You nodded weakly, hoping he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse was racing.

“Three…”

You swallowed.

“Two…”

Oh god.

“One.”

You released, letting your left hand fall, Quirk disabling instantly as the barrier lightened.

The explosion erupted in an instant, the force slamming through the air like a shockwave. The ground trembled beneath them, a scorching heatwave blasting outward as the impact roared across the training field.

You barely had time to process any of it before you felt yourself lurching backward, the recoil throwing you off balance—

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, anchoring you firmly in place.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Bakugou had caught you.

His grip was solid, his chest firm against your back, keeping you steady against the sheer force of the explosion. His hand pressed against your stomach, holding you still as the last remnants of the blast dissipated into the air.

For a second, neither of you moved.

...

It was bad enough that you had just fired one of his gauntlets, but now you were in his arms? With his hand on your waist?

Man, maybe you should’ve been the gauntlet’s target instead.

Bakugou didn’t say anything at first, just exhaled through his nose before slowly releasing you, letting you find your footing again.

You stumbled slightly.

He steadied you with a single hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

You turned to look at him, still in too much shock to form a proper response. “Y—eah?” you replied after a moment.

Bakugou raised a brow. Then, to your absolute horror, his lips curled into an infuriating smirk. “Tch. Dumbass,” he says. “Not too bad, eh?”

“I could’ve died.”

“Nah.”

“I’m scared that you’re carrying heavy weight—bombs around like it doesn’t weigh a ton.”

A shrug. “Training.”

Your hands were still clammy.

Probably not from fear anymore.

“You wanna try using the other one?” he offered, surprising you and himself, really.

...

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, let’s do it.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[sweetheartspence]

✰ mind over matter - s.r. ✰

Spencer thinks you hate him. That couldn't be further from the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

genre: fluff

content: idiots in love, a little bit of miscommunication, reader is anxious, gn!reader i think, mutual pining, garcia the matchmaker, not proofread

wc: 1.4k

a/n: in second person this time :) i hope you all enjoy, let me know your thoughts! requests are open :D likes and reblogs appreciated! dividers by @/saradika-graphics - thank you!

Spencer is not good for your head.

Every time he's in the room, your brain stops working. Just- flatlines. No activity. All you can do is stare, stumble over yourself, blush, and eventually flee from the room in a panic.

It's his fault, really. With his stupid big brown eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid hands and his stupid voice, and the way his eyebrow crinkles at the halfway point when he's thinking really hard about something. And the way the corners of his mouth turn down when he's thought of something that he thinks is funny, but thinks no one else will find amusing, and the way that his collar is never quite straight. He's always around, always trying to strike up conversation, and it's infuriating.

Not because you don't want to talk to him. Because you do. Because you do, and you can't.

You're stirring a spoonful of sugar into your second cup of tea of the day when Spencer walks into the break room. His collar is slightly askew, his purple tie a little bit crooked (and, you think, knotted wrong), and he's carrying his mug. You know it's his because it's patterned with the periodic table. If that wasn't a dead giveaway, it's specially labelled with his name on the bottom.

He flashes you a smile, and your heart seizes. You're pretty sure you look like a deer in headlights, your eyes wide and a little panicked.

Spencer stops in front of you, and you're pretty sure you've died. You've died, and this is your heaven- or purgatory, maybe, since you still can't get your mouth to work.

"You're standing in front of the coffee maker." His voice is smooth and uncertain, a little amused, matching the quirk of his lips.

Your mind blue screens. "That- I- um, yeah. I am." You make no motion to move, and he tilts his head, like a curious puppy.

"Would you, um... mind moving?" Spencer asks, blinking at you. You let out a squeak, and duck out of the way, your cheeks beginning to flame.

"Sorry! I, uh, that's- yeah." You manage, intelligently, before bolting out of the break room and back to your desk. You've just gotten to your desk when you realize that you've forgotten your tea in the break room, freshly brewed and now abandoned on the counter. You sigh, pushing your chair back, making your way over to Garcia's lair of computers.

Spencer is pretty sure you hate him.

You're decently new to the BAU, having been there under a year, and at first, he thought you were jut shy. You were awkward around the entire team, not just him. But as the weeks passed, you became smiley, articulate, and entirely endearing, with everyone except for him.

With him, you're... different, to say the least. He clearly makes you uncomfortable, if the flushed cheeks and inability to meet his eye is anything to go by. There's moments he thinks he might be getting through to you, when you nod along with one of his statistics during briefings, or try to hide a smile at one of his nerdy jokes. But then he tries to talk to you directly, and you shut down again.

And Spencer just had to develop feelings for you. The one person in his life that can't stand being in the same room as him for longer than necessary. He's not the type to spend time and energy on people who clearly don't want to be around him, but you... there's something different about you.

When he approaches you in the break room, you give your stuttered answer, followed by your usual quick departure. He hadn't even wanted coffee, if he was being completely honest. He had just wanted a chance to talk to you.

Spencer sighs, leaning his hands on the counter and hanging his head. And then he notices your tea, left on the counter. He glances into the bullpen, but you're not at your desk. Spencer hesitates, before picking up the mug and bringing it over to your desk. He takes one of the pens out of your cup, a purple one, and writes a quick note, leaving it with your tea.

"You need to figure out how to talk to him," Garcia is saying, but you're barely listening, having heard this spiel at least a dozen times from her. You roll your eyes.

"I'm trying, Pen, I am," you mumble, fidgeting with one of the trinkets she has proudly displayed on her desk. "It's like I lose all control of my mouth when I'm around him. I can't... make it work." You set the trinket down, sitting back in your seat.

Garcia sighs, clicking her tongue. "The two of you are hopeless, honestly," she mutters, her manicured nails clicking on her keyboard.

You wrinkle your nose indignantly, giving her a look. "What? No," you protest. "We work fine together, so it's not like it even matters."

"You do," she agrees, looking over at you for a second and wiggling her eyebrows. "But you could work together so much better. And in much different ways."

Her innuendo isn't lost on you, and you narrow your eyes. "What, you think this stupid crush is even going to go anywhere?" You grumble.

"He likes you too." It's not a question, but a definitive statement. You blink.

"He told you that?" You ask.

"Well, no, but..." Garcia trails off for a moment, tapping a nail against her teeth. "C'mon, we can all tell. You need to just-"

"Okay, well, thank you for your delusions," you interrupt, pushing your chair back and standing up. "Gotta get back to work. You know how it is."

"Not delusions," she calls back, as you start to walk back to the bullpen. "Observations."

You consider this as you walk back. Observations. Maybe he feels it too? Or maybe, you've ruined any chance you might have had by being completely socially inept around him. Would it even change anything if you knew he liked you? Would you be able to make your mouth work, say something that didn't sound like you were speaking English for the first time?

You're still pondering the possibility when you sit down at your desk.

There's a mug. Your mug. And a note.

"Sorry for scaring you out of the break room. You forgot something. S.R."

You stare at the note, at the purple pen, at the loops and smudges on the paper. There's a smiley face haphazardly drawn in the bottom corner, and it's so Spencer that it makes your heart ache.

That's it, you decide. You have to do something.

In an uncharacteristic show of bravery, you take a breath, pushing back from the chair and standing up, making your way over to his desk. Spencer is bent over a case file, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't," you say, a bit too loudly, and you finch at the volume of your own voice. Spencer startles, looking up from his work.

"What?"

"You didn't," you repeat, at a more normal volume. You can feel your cheeks start to burn, but you push on. "Scare me. Out of the break room, I mean."

He blinks up at you owlishly. "Oh. Then why did you-"

"I like you," you blurt. You can't help it. The blush creeps down your neck, across your chest under your sweater. Spencer stares. "Like, I like like you. Which make me sound like I'm in third grade, but I just-" You let out a heavy breath, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. "I get all tongue tied, around you. You make me... you make me nervous." Your voice gets quieter as you go on, and Spencer's heart swells.

"Yeah?" He asks, tilting his head, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah," you manage, nodding meekly. "And you don't have to... say anything. I just wanted you to... to know." You turn on your heel, then, intending to go back to your desk, but a hand catches yours. Spencer's slender fingers wrap around your wrist, halting you in place.

"Your tea is probably cold by now," Spencer says, his voice soft. His gaze is intense, but gentle, full of affection. "Let me buy you a new one."

Butterflies flood through your stomach, and you manage a very shy smile, giving a little nod. "Um, like... just hanging out, or.."

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like a date. If you'd want."

You nod again, completely breathless. "Yeah. Yeah, um.. that's good. Great, even. Yeah."

"I think we're gonna have to work on these nerves around me," Spencer teases. He smiles at you, soft and fond, and tugs on your hand.

"Let's get you that tea."

[sugarwarachan]

hitoshi shinsou x f!reader - forced orgasms/overstimulation

you really shouldn’t have pissed him off.

when you and shinsou first started fucking it was syrupy sweet, like he was afraid his reputation preceded him and wanted to fuck tenderness into your skull before you heard the rumors.

but the thing is, you like things rough and mean, even when you’re screaming, and when shinsou finally extracted that confession out of you, well, your sex life changed immediately.

which is why you’re currently tied up on the bed with a vibrator pressing relentlessly on your clit, begging for shinsou to come and turn it off.

“please, toshi. please, i’ll be good.” the damp patch underneath you must be obscene. you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum. “i’ll listen this time, I swear.” your legs tremble, ankles shaking in their binds. pressure once again builds in your lower stomach, but the pleasure is now edging too close to pain.

“shh shh, sweet girl.” shinsou pulls back your blindfold. his scruff is pronounced, eyes lidded with desire. he unties your legs slowly, kissing and soothing the skin. “you’ve done so well for me.”

the praise sinks into your skin like sunlight.

“can you give me one more, angel? he kneels between your legs, one palm keeping your thighs spread.

“tell the truth,” he says, activating his quirk the way you always tell him to, because you love giving this man unfettered access to the truth of your desire for him. you almost trip over yourself getting the words out, the please please please touch me falling from your lips so unabashedly you might be ashamed if it were anyone other than hitoshi.

you’re so overstimulated that the moment his tongue starts lapping at the mess between your thighs you’re already cresting toward your peak, back arching, fingers gripping the bedsheets. from far away, you hear him growling out his own release into the mattress.

when you finally come back down to earth, it’s to hitoshi gently massaging your calves and ordering you boba.

(you really should piss him off more often.)