#but I dawdled on listening to them all

[todayisafridaynight]

Holy fuck I thought Jo was in a speedo for a second 🥵🥵🥵

crying at the thought of jo in a speedo cause i know he's miserable 24/7 and speedos are for people who love life. like adachi.

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, can I please request Jacaerys x aunt!reader where he goes to her after the dance as she had been imprisoned in the dungeons and he offer her to let him have her or she'll be sentenced to death or sum. And reader is as pious and religious as Alicent and she is horrified by the idea of being sullied by ""bastard seed"" but she reveals to be c0ck-drunk by the end of it?

Jace Velaryon*Perfect Wife

Pairing: Jace x f!reader

Word count: 2809

Warnings: dub con, imprisonment, held at knife point (not during smut), praise, degradation, nipple play, p in v sex, hickeys, spanking, bruising, forced marriage, smut 18+c

Masterlist here

You weren’t much of a warrior. You had been raised the way a princess should have been. Well, that’s what your mother told you. However, when two days had passed since Aemond and Aegon had left to confront Rhanerya, and everyone refused to tell you what was happening you decided to get the hell out of there on your dragon.

Maybe you’d end up in Essos and sell a dragon egg for a home. Maybe even Dorne. You could try throw yourself on their mercy. After all, their ambassadors had always seemed to enjoy your company. However, all your plans soon crumbled when you accidentally flew into what you’d assumed to be an empty clearing.

You’d landed in a small field and had quickly tried to ‘borrow’ an apple from a local farm when you felt a strong grip on your arm and a sharp blade on your neck. So cold it had to be Valyrian steel. “And who do we have here?” you recognised Jace’s voice clearly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you pretty girls shouldn’t go about dawdling?”

-

The stone floors bruised your knees each time you knelt to pray but you didn’t complain or even wince at the pain. You’d counted the days you’d been here by etching marks in the stone with the corner of your Seven-star necklace your mother had given you. 27 days so far. Each morning you prayed. Well, what you thought was morning. Then each afternoon then evening. Each time to a different member of the seven. Even the stranger since perhaps the god of death was the one you truly needed right now.

“My lady,” a sing song voice called out, “Lunch is ready,” Jace said as he approached your cell with his usual grin. He didn’t come every day but when he did it only seemed to add to your punishment. “I made sure to pick you the freshest apple,” he crouched down, holding it out to you.

You kept your eyes on the ground as you tried to finish your prayer, “C’mon now. They’re clearly not listening to you,” he mocked, sitting down the tray in front of the bars to your cell.

Still, you ignored him as you wrapped them up. Jace sighed and just as you finished your prayers he stood, taking the tray with him. “Where are you going?” you called, moving to stand on your feet and grabbing the bars, “That’s my food,”

“No this is my food,” he said, as if he was calling the sky blue, “And you never took it,”

“I was praying!”

“Not fast enough,” he teased. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to acknowledge the heir to Westeros,” he said as he turned to leave.

“My brothers not here,” you mumbled, turning around to go take your place on the wooden bench they called a bed.

The wine cup clattered against the wall, missing your head by only an inch. You span on your heels to confront him, but the only trace was your food dropped on the ground in a head and the apple slowly rolling towards your cell.

It stopped just out of arm’s length of the bars as if the gods really were mocking you. It took you laying on the ground, stretching out the tips of your fingernails to manage to roll it closer so you could grab it. You consoled yourself knowing he never came twice in one day.

Yet this time he did.

Jace arrived with a meal so nice looking it almost reminded you of what you used to eat. There was even a whole chicken leg on it. when he saw the apple core in the corner of your cell Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” he said, reaching it out for you to try manoeuvre through the bars when he suddenly pulled it back, “Aren’t you going to thank your prince?”

“Thank you,” you glared, reaching your hand out.

Jace just smirked, “Thank you what?”

“Thank you, dear nephew,” you offered with a fake smile.

“Say it. say that I am the true heir, a true prince, and I will be most obliged to give you this chicken leg. Straight from the queens table,” he said, showing it to you once more just to rub it in.

You could feel your stomach rumble, but you couldn’t say it. not after all this time. Not after all the battles. Not for a chicken leg. “My mother isn’t here,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jace reached through the bars, grabbing your neck before you could react. His grasp was tight but despite his fingers digging into your skin you weren’t afraid, “I can only be so patient,” he warned before letting you go. He turned to leave, taking the food with him, “besides, who said your mother is even alive?” he mocked before slamming the door shut behind him.

The stalemate continued for another day and a half and suddenly you were regretting not rationing the apple. At least the guards had kept your water jug topped up, but you didn’t want to risk that being taken too.

“I have a new deal,” Jace said, walking in empty handed.

“Where’s my food?” you said, not even standing from where you sat on your bed.

“That’s not very polite,” Jace tutted, leaning against the bars, “How would you like to get out of here?” you couldn’t help your eyes widening at the idea. Something Jace seemed to revel in. he unlocked your cell and despite wanting to run you sat still as he closed the door behind him. “Come here. Let me get a closer look at you,”

You wanted to slap him but instead you stood up and slowly crossed the floor while Jace’s eyes scanned your frame. “Still so beautiful,” he mumbled before he finally brought his eyes back to yours as your cheeks burned, “I have a new proposal for you,” he said, reaching to stroke your cheek. He was gentle but you still flinched at his touch.

He stepped closer, moving his hand down till he was toying with your necklace, his eyes not so subtly on your chest, “Marry me,” he said, and you instantly grimaced at his words, “Be my wife and I will let you free,”

“I wouldn’t be free,” you snapped, “I’d be the wife of a bastard, a nobody, a waste of space- “you began to spit your venom at him only to be cut off by his tight grasp around your neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you,” he warned, “What I’m offering is generous. You should hear what Daemon had planned for you,” he dropped his grip and you instantly stepped back, trying to recatch your breath.

Jace slowly began to circle you, eyeing you up from every angle as you silently thought over his offer when suddenly a thought popped into your head, “What’s in it for you? Last time I checked you already had a betrothed,”

“Alliances can change, we both know that” he drawled, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grazed your hip. Not mine, you thought, but you stayed silent instead. “Besides I need a wife. Someone to show off in court,” his hand trailed up from your hip to your waist making you shudder through the thin dress they’d gave you, “Someone to bear children. Someone to warm my bed,” he said, his lips pressed against your ear.

His hand went to move to your front, but you grabbed his wrist before he could touch anything, “I’d rather die,” you spat.

Jace grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against his chest, “That can be arranged,” he warned but he still wore his teasing smirk, “You think you’d survive here without me? A pretty young things like yourself in nothing but her night dress roaming around court, think of the scandals. Gods help you if you even make it out the castle. What do you think the small folk would do with a princess like you?”

“Perhaps they’d save me. If they believed in the true king,” you said, trying to hold firm but feeling yourself shake.

He chuckled under his breath, “There is only a queen. C’mon, I can’t be that bad surely. You saying you’ve never thought about it?” he said, his hand moving down to your ass, his lips moving to your ear, “Its not just the gods who know your dirty little secrets,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your neck.

“I want my dragon back,” you said suddenly making Jace lift his head from where he’d been dragging his lips across your neck, “If I’m to be your wife,”

“As soon as your belly swells with my seed,” he said, “Anything else?”

It felt like a trap, but you tried anyway, “And separate rooms. I don’t want to see you more than I have to,”

He chuckled this time, “That can be arranged, anything else?” you eyed him carefully before shaking your head no. one child and then you could escape with your dragon. It would take a year, maybe two, and then you’d be free. “Good. I shall have them draw up a treaty. But in the meantime,” he said, grabbing your ass so suddenly you gasped, “I want some kind of reassurance you won’t back out,”

“And what’s that?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said making the words dry up in your throat, “And if I didn’t know any better id say you wanted me too,”

“And if I say no?” you asked.

Jace dropped his grip, but a smirk fell on his lips as he began to walk away. “Then no deal,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” you called, reaching out to grab his arm. Jace turned his gaze back to you with a knowing smirk, “I suppose if you are to be my husband. The gods, they’d understand,” you said, trying to rationalise it all.

Jace moved closer to you till his chest was flush against yours, “I’m sure they’d understand after all,” he said, pushing the hair out of your face, “Who could blame you for wanting some pleasure in your life?” he said, his hand trailing down till he grabbed your tit, squeezing it softly, “Why would something that feels so good be so wrong?” he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling lower to your thighs, toying with the hem of his dress.

His lips moved to kiss down your jaw, across your neck till he was kissing your undiscovered sweet spot making you moan softly. His arms moved to slip around your waist, pulling you somehow closer to him as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gasped when he squeezed your ass and winced at the quick slap, he gave it before his hands moved to the hem of your dress.

The cold air rushed over your frame, making your nipples harden as Jace pulled the dress over your head in one swoop. The only thing to cover you was your necklace but right now that felt even worse. Jace’s eyes travelled your frame, soaking up every inch, “The gods have blessed me with you,” he murmured.

“You do not know the gods,” you glared but Jace just chuckled as his hands went to cup your tits, stroking his thumbs over your perked nipples making you whimper.

“Perhaps you don’t either,” he said as he led you by your hips to your bed. He sat on it, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you into his lap.

His lips moved to your collarbones, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. Your brain told you to push him away, but a strange feeling was overcoming your body as his hands moved to your hips. You could feel a hard bulge under his trousers as he began to move your hips, pushing your core onto his clothed cock. You moaned at the friction, his bulge rubbing perfectly against your clit sending shock waves up your body.

Soon you felt your hips begin to buck and move of their own accord. You felt his smirk against your skin as his hands moved to your tits. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers making you moan. “Oh god,” you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when he took one into his mouth, sucking on the perked bud.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, your moans growing louder as you took the gods in vain at the top of your lungs. You felt your peak hit you like a boulder before you slumped into Jace’s chest.

He moved to kiss your cheek with a chuckle. “Not even fucked you yet and look at you,” Jace said, slipping his hand down to rub against your sensitive core making your body lurch, “So wet for me,” he praised, his hand moving to unlace his trousers. “Can’t wait to see what my cock does to you,”

Before you could protest you felt his tip pressing into your entrance. You gasped, your hands moving to grab his shoulders, “Aw,” Jace pouted, “Does it hurt?” he mocked, pushing you down further, “Too fucking bad,” he practically growled as he used your hips to push you all the way down.

You almost screamed at the feeling, as if you were being split in half but Jace groaned, throwing his head back against the wall as you felt his cock twitch inside you, “Fuck you’re so tight,” he praised, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hips betrayed you again, moving without your mind thinking making him chuckle.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Jace mocked, grabbing your jaw as you tried to move away. His thumb ran over your bottom lip before using it to pry your mouth open, resting it on your tongue, “Good girl,” he praised, his free hand moving your hips.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you felt him hit all the right spots. You gave up trying to resit as your hips began to grind onto his cock.

Jace’s hands moved to your hair, grabbing it suddenly and pulling it back so he could have full access to your neck. You were sure by the way he kissed it there would be marks tomorrow but that didn’t matter now. Your hands went to his hair, tugging it softly making him growl against your skin.

His free hand went to your ass, grabbing it tightly before suddenly leaving stinging slaps against the soft flesh. You could feel your second peak fast approaching and when Jace moved to run quick circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves you felt your cunt squeeze around him as it came crashing down again.

“Fuck,” Jace mumbled, a stream of profanity tumbling from his lips as his hands moved to your hips so he could fuck you through your orgasm, “You feel so good,” he praised, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You felt yourself coming down from your high and his movements began to slow, “Don’t stop Jace. Please gods don’t stop,” you began to beg, and you could feel his smirk.

“Begging suits you,” he teased, grabbing your jaw so he could make you face him, “You look so good right now. So drunk on my cock. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I need you please,”

“Aw my poor baby,” he teased, “So desperate for her king,”

“Yes,” you weren’t even thinking any longer, and a spark ignited behind his eyes, “Need you. Want you my king,” you moaned.

Jace grabbed your hips tightly, standing suddenly before turning as you back slammed against the wall. You winced until you felt his hips begin to snap up against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against you. This new angle had him hitting newer spots that had your legs wrapping tight around him.

“So good,” Jace mumbled against your skin as you felt a third orgasm approaching, “My perfect little wife,” his words sent you tumbling over the edge.

Jace couldn’t resist anymore as your cunt squeezed around his cock and with a couple more pumps, he began to spill his seed. His thrusts became slow as he rode out his own peak, fucking his seed deep inside you. You were both panting as he pulled out, his forehead resting against yours as your feet finally hit the ground again.

“I always knew you had a dark side in you,” Jace chuckled as he pulled away.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep, husband,” you threatened but the last word made him smile. Maybe this was a good trade after all.

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[shotoh]

all mine

SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language

author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all 

The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.

“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.

“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.

The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”

Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.

A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.

She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.

One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.

If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.

Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”

Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.

“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”

“But–”

“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.

“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”

.

.

Man, what an annoying woman.

Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.

His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.

“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.

But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.

Besides...

“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”

His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”

He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.

You.

“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.

After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.

While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.

The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.

Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.

Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.

You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.

The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.

Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.

“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.

Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.

Fuckin’ hell.

The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.

In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.

Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”

The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.

His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.

Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.

“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.

The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”

He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.

You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.

Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”

He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.

Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.

He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.

“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”

The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.

Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.

Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.

The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.

He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.

“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.

Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”

“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.

Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”

“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”

“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”

“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.

“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”

“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”

Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.

Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?

To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.

Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.

“You free tomorrow?”

“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”

“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.

Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”

“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.

With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.

“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.

“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”

Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

.

.

There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.

The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.

Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.

Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.

Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.

While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.

“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”

You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.

“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.

You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.

She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.

“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”

It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.

You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.

You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.

“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.

With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.

I thought I covered that…

You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this  morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.

You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.

You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.

Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”

She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”

You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?

You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.

The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.

“Heya, Katsu–”

“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.

You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.

He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”

“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.

“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.

“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.

“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”

Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”

Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.

“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.

After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”

“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.

“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.

Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”

“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”

“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.

“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.

As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”

You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.

The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.

You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.

“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”

It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.

In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.

You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.

“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.

“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.

“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”

“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.

A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.

Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.

“You did well, princess.”

His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.

God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.

Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.

While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.

The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.

“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.

“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”

Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”

“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”

A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.

“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”

Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.

“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.

In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.

Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”

“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.

“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.

He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”

Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.

“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”

At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.

“Bend over.”

Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.

With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.

“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.

Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”

Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.

“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.

“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.

“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.

“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.

Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.

“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.

The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”

Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.

“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.

“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”

Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.

“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.

“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.

Oh, fuck it.

As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.

You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.

“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.

“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.

By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.

With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.

Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.

“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point

“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”

“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.

Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.

“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”

“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.

Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.

After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.

“Feel sticky…”

“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.

Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”

“Fine. Such a princess…”

“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.

The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”

Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.

“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”

You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”

“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”

“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.

“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.

And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.

“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”

At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.

“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.

The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.

“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.

“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.

And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.

When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.

“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.

“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.

You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”

“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.

“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”

.

.

The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.

copyright 2022 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated elsewhere so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[ratsummer]

Guys I can't shut up about Phantom ever so here's something that came to me today.

As many of you may know, in my heart Phantom was not really doing so well before being summoned by the ministry. He arrives looking kind of like a stray that's been running the streets for a while, but has known love long ago and wants so bad to believe he can have it again. He's pretty underweight, maybe has a persistent cough, fur and horns and claws dull and unkempt, shy... Certainly not thriving.

All of the ghouls play their parts in helping him heal, of course. Today, I was thinking about Mountain!

I think our big, sweetie pie of an earth ghoul takes Phantom for walks. Just around the grounds, through the gardens and forest paths. At first, Phantom gets tired pretty easily, so Mountain takes it slow. They meander and mosey and dawdle, stopping almost every few steps those first days so Mountain could point out something new to Phantom. There's a lot to see and learn about life topside, after all!

He shows him flowers and talks about when they bloom, and what critters like to visit them. They listen to birdsong, and Mountain identifies them for Phantom and teaches him ways to remember their calls. They turn over rocks, pet moss, smell herbs, and generally just soak in the beauty around them.

Once Phantom is comfortable going longer distances, they start taking the forest paths. Mountain introduces him to all kinds of edible plants! They stop to taste berries, nuts, flowers, roots, shoots... Mountain knows these plants by heart, and he's delighted to feed Phantom from the bounty. Phantom opens up so quickly to Mountain, and is so eager to learn and try new things. He doesn't always like them, but he trusts Mountain enough to give it a go anyway.

Before long, they switch roles a bit. Where before, Mountain spent the most time talking and guiding, Phantom quickly becomes a chatterbox of questions and observations. One day, he gets so excited to show Mountain a little puddle with bug larvae that he found, he grabs him by the hand and drags him along. After that, Phantom insists on holding hands through all of their walks.

Yeah, I just think Mountain sees that skinny, scared little quint and decides he's gonna give him gentle, restorative time outside, and I think he's so right for that.

[luveline]

hi jade! would you be open to doing a hurt/comfort Eddie fix where the readers dealing with some personal stuff at home and starts distancing herself from him, they fight about it but makeup after a couple of days or something and it's a fluffy happy ending? love your writing and hope your doing well xx

hey!!! tysm for ur request tw unspecified family drama ♡♡♡ fem!reader

You've thought about nothing besides your fight with Eddie for days now.

Arguments can feel so transient. One second you're golden, the next you've argued, and ten minutes later you can't remember half of what you said or what Eddie said, and you're listening to him drive away with shaky hands.

The shaking comes and goes. It's a fucking gnawing anxiety. As if things weren't bad enough, now your boyfriend's mad at you (for good reason) and it's the only thing you can think about.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he'd asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't do that. Don't pretend there's nothing wrong."

Eddie's good at that, slicing down to the core of the problem without dawdling. You are pretending nothing is wrong, because you don't want to think about everything that's wrong, or even admit to it, not with Eddie. It's all messy and stupid and you shouldn't feel so much shame about the things you can't control, but you do.

The phone on your nightstand starts to ring. You lift your teary face off of a damp pillow and squint at it.

"Listen," Eddie says as soon as you pick up, no time for greetings, "I just wanna see you, okay? No more fighting, I promise."

You blink in surprise. The already high emotion, the snap of relief. Tears well in your eyes and you sound full of them as you say, "Okay."

"Aw, baby," he says under his breath. "Can I come over?"

You tilt your head and listens for the noise downstairs. "Can I come to you?" you ask.

"Of course you can... Uh-" There's a lot of sound from the other line. "Don't cry, sweetheart, okay? I'll come and pick you up, how's that? Please don't cry."

His sweetness and his not wanting you to cry is exactly what makes it unmanageable. You stifle a gasp with the back of your hand and close your eyes, feeling silly for reacting so strongly. You've really missed him. Really needed him.

"Are you- I'm gonna come and get you," he repeats, sounding not quite frantic but definitely worried.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. We'll talk about it."

You hang up and get dressed into something that doesn't look like it's been cried in for two days straight. You wait until you see his headlights from the bedroom window and slink out of the house on pins, heart spinning like a top as you approach his van.

It's dark. Your breath forms a cloud in front of you, and you hesitate with your fingers curled around the door handle.

Don't cry, you think.

You bite your tongue and pull open the door. Eddie's already looking at you with a careful smile.

"Hey," he says, offering his hand to help you up the short step as he always does. You take it not because you've ever needed it, but because you really want to hold his hand, and you don't let go once the doors closed. Eddie makes no effort to take it back.

You look down at his hand in yours. You know it well. The thickness and length of each finger, the single ring on his middle finger, the teeny tiny mole on his marriage finger.

"Can I give you a kiss?" His voice is rougher than usual, low.

You nod but still can't look at him — if you look at him you'll definitely cry. Your chest races in wait for him to lean across the gap and kiss you. It's a relief when he does, his lips warm and insistent. One kiss, a second.

"I'm keeping this," he says, pulling your hand toward his thigh.

You laugh quietly. He squeezes your hand in response and starts back on the road.

"I'm sorry for..." He cringes. "For getting so angry with you."

"It's okay."

"Is it? I've been thinking about it for hours and it just doesn't feel like you to stop talking to me. And I got so angry I pushed you back into a corner, and it didn't fix anything and it just made me miss you."

"You didn't push me into a corner," you say.

He turns the wheel in one hand, the other tight but never, ever cruel where it stays squeezing your own.

"I was quick to jump at you. I hate that. I don't want to be like that."

"Everybody fights," you murmur, trying to rub at the back of his hand. He has such a secure grip that's its difficult, but you try.

"I feel like an asshole, okay? Let me apologise, please." The first sentence said with self-deprecating bravado, the second with genuine remorse.

"You were right, though. I haven't been talking to you. It's just- there's just stuff, Eddie, that's all, and I didn't want you to know. It's," — a lazy tear runs down your cheek and you bring your shoulder up to wipe it — "my stupid- stupid family." You stop abruptly, embarrassed by how much you've said and the upset way you've said it.

"I want to know, though."

There's a really long gap. You and Eddie are good at this, at communicating, at knowing when there's as much need for love as there is for conversation. But you're also both flawed. Eddie's insecure, and he doesn't like feeling vulnerable. It makes sense that he'd assume your pulling away was something to do with him. In a way, it was. And you're embarrassed and quick to hide how you feel, so afraid of leaning on him for support that you end up looking as though you don't trust him.

And obviously there's the lingering anger of a fight, of wanting to be right. You wish there wasn't. How much easier would it feel on your heart to decide Eddie was entirely to blame, that he'd misread the signs and made a big deal out of nothing?

It would be easy. But. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be love.

"Love you," you murmur, worried he won't say it back.

He pulls your hand up quick to his lips and kisses your knuckles. "I love you."

Which, despite everything, is what heals the rift. There's obviously more talking to be done. You need to tell Eddie about what's going on, and you will.

"Wanna table it?" he asks.

"Yes," you say tearfully, your relief palpable.

"Only for tonight."

"Yeah. Please."

His headlights splash across tarmac and up the brick side of Benny's diner. He's quiet as he puts the van in park, loosening his grip on your hand to push down the handbrake.

"Here," he says, pulling a sleeve over his palm, "gotta wipe those cute cheeks," — you laugh because it's awful — "or all the guys'll think I'm treating you wrong." He wipes your cheeks tenderly, lip pulled between his teeth for a short second. "Guess maybe I have been."

"No, you haven't," you say softly.

Your eyes close as he cleans up under your lashline with his thumbnail. You can't bear to open them as he takes your newly cleaned face into both hands, warm palms and the thick of his rings against your cool cheeks.

He kisses the tip of your nose.

"Dork," you say.

There's no way to describe it other than fondness in his hands, his fingers as they move slowly downward. He cradles your face from the jawline, thumbs pushing quarter circles.

"Open your eyes," he demands in a funny voice.

You open your eyes. Bloodshot, achey. Glad to see him. He's really pretty, handsome, everything. Brown eyes big and wide in the dark, pupils and irises merged into one.

"Let me get some food into you." He frowns some more, then takes on a light, almost blasé expression. "Heard Benny's got a new milkshake machine. Won't let me get you one, will you?"

"Do I really have a choice?" you ask. As soon as you smile Eddie pins it in place, beaming beaming beaming. He's like the sun.

"Sure you do. You can choose the flavour."

You lean heavily into one of his hands. Whether you can stomach it or not, if Eddie wants to buy you a milkshake, how can you deny him?

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie quietly falling more and more in love with Steve with every car ride—every time it’s raining, and he watches as Steve does a stupid little run with an umbrella to the front porch so Robin won’t mess up her hair before a marching band concert.

Falling in love with the constancy of it, with every little routine Steve does. It takes a few weeks of listening for Eddie to figure out that when Steve first half-sings, “Good mornin’,” as everyone clambers into the car that he’s imitating the song from Singin’ in the Rain.

Falling in love with how Steve always, always either has the radio on or a tape playing something that he can sing along to, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. How the car’s always this chaotic space but always, always brimming with love and joy—Steve snapping his fingers every few minutes, like, “Oh, Rob, this is our song! You know, when the—yeah, the shift when—no, not that one, the other time that—” (Eddie discovers with fond amusement that many, many songs share the title of ‘Robin and Steve’s song.’)

Steve singing along to the chorus of Mr. Blue Sky whenever Dustin’s called shotgun in the front, and Eddie soon realises, his heart fit to burst, that it’s because Steve must associate the song with Dustin; that he does the same thing with everyone he gives rides to, like it comes so naturally to him, his love for each person intertwined with each song, like he’s making the melody anew every time.

Eddie, tipsy from ‘Graduation Champagne’ courtesy of Nancy, asks Steve once if he has a song tied to him.

“Ah,” Steve says, smiling and bright-eyed in his role as the designated driver, “you have a whole damn catalogue, Eddie.”

And… oh.

Well, Eddie reasons, heart skipping a beat, he doesn’t need to know all of them at once, then. He doesn’t mind waiting, letting each one unfold, like unwrapping an expensive chocolate.

One night the two of them are driving back to Hawkins alone, having spent the day at a mall shopping for Robin’s birthday. They really didn’t need to spend the whole day, had already got her presents within the first couple of hours, but they dawdled, messed around, tried on increasingly ridiculous hats and sunglasses to make the other laugh.

And Steve fiddles with the radio until he finds an obscure station that just plays songs from musicals. And yeah, he sings along, but his voice is a little restrained, almost like he’s shy. Eddie looks at him with a soft smile, suddenly knows he’s seeing something precious, something Steve perhaps reserves for car rides alone. That Steve is letting him into a private moment.

“You have a real pretty voice, man,” he murmurs, quiet enough that they could pretend it goes unheard under the noise of the car driving along.

But as Steve looks ahead, he smiles, and his ears turn red.

He goes for it for the rest of the ride, voice back to its normal volume. He plays it up, trying to make Eddie laugh while they’re waiting for traffic lights to change. Catches his eye and damn near trills, “I feel fizzy and funny and fine, and so pretty, Miss America can just resign.”

And of course, Eddie laughs. Feels his stomach swoop. He knows what this feeling is. Oh, he knows.

As the West Side Story tribute ends, Steve’s voice drops back to his normal register. Turns gentle and sincere as he glances at his wing mirror and sings, almost to himself, “For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy.”

Yes, Eddie thinks, you are, you are, you are.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 44

Part 1 Part 43

Eddie ushers Jonathan and Will into the trailer in front of him. Steve’s standing behind him, close enough that he can feel the body heat. Eddie closes his eyes, savoring the heat for one moment before following the brother’s in, Steve right behind him.

He hears the schnick! of the lock clicking home and wonders if either of them will ever break the habit of locking every door they walk through. 

Will has led Jonathan into the living room, settling familiarly onto the couch while Jonathan dawdles, eyes darting back and forth before he sits down next to his brother, at the edge of the cushion.

“What do we owe the pleasure?” Eddie asks, dropping his handful of Steve’s belongings carefully onto the coffee table as Steve does the same.

Jonathan eyes the pile, flicking his gaze up to Steve with a pitying look that Steve luckily doesn’t catch. Steve’s gone into the kitchen to pour out cups of coke like a consummate host. Like this is already his home.

“I wanted to see you,” Will says quietly, looking down at his knees.

“Aww, Baby Byers, we missed you too!” Eddie says, knowing it’s true. He can feel the kids' absence like a lost limb.

“Actually,” Jonathan says, sitting up straighter and looking between the three like he’s trying to solve a complex math problem that Eddie’s never even heard of. “He said something weird on the way here.”

Steve hands out cups. Will sips his while Jonathan drinks his down in three big gulps. “What?” Steve asks, not looking at Jonathan at all. He settles on the coffee table in front of Will, plopping his feet familiarly between the brothers and nudging Will’s hip with his toes. 

“I don’t know,” Will says, still looking down. “I can…feel you?” 

“He knew when you guys were pulling up,” Jonathan interjects. He plunks his empty glass on the coffee table beside Steve. Eddie wonders if he should refill it, but doesn’t.

“Right here?” Steve asks, rubbing his sternum. Eddie does the same, feeling the very minor fish-hook tug that comes with them all being in the same room.

Will nods. 

“You know, I could feel Steve, in the Upside-Down,” Eddie says, walking over to Wayne’s chair and plopping down. “Hopper wouldn’t listen, but I knew you weren’t in your house before we even got there.”

That same bitter curl unfurls in his sternum, at being the most knowledgeable person in the room, and being talked over like he had nothing to offer. By Nancy, by Hopper, by Mama Byers. 

“You did?” Steve asks, voice small. He reaches up to his throat, the same way he always does when he’s thinking of those last days alone. Like that thing is still making its home in his throat.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie replies, the rest of the room dropping away as he looks at Steve in profile. He’s all sharp angles – jaw and nose and chin – but there’s still a softness in his cheeks. Eddie wants to pinch them. Wants too many things that he’s not allowed to say. “I’ll always find you.”

He can see the way his adam's apple bobs with the force of his swallow. Steve looks over at him, eyes glimmering in the low light of the trailer. The dark circles under his eyes are dark, the stitches on his forehead stark and macabre. Eddie wants to stretch his hand across the room, trail his fingers along Steve’s stumbled cheeks, feel the proof of his life through the warmth of his blood. 

“It’s not just me?” WIll asks, and Eddie’s sucked back into his body, remembers the audience and the circumstances of living in Nowhere Indiana. 

“No,” Steve says, always ready to reassure. “It’s not just you.”

They stew in the silence. Jonathan uncharacteristically breaks it. “What does this mean?”

“Fuck if I know!” Eddie says, flopping sideways in Wayne’s chair, head lolling uncomfortably off the side as he looks at the other three from his new upside-down vantage point.  “Maybe we’ve got superpowers.”

“Like El!” Will says excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat. Jonathan looks like the thought of his little brother having superpowers has taken years off his life. Eddie can’t help the sputtering laugh that comes out of his mouth, even as Jonathan glares at him.

“We can be a crime fighting trio,” Eddie says, putting his hand on his hip, and raising his fist in the air, messed-up pinky sticking out at a weird ankle, in an approximation of the stereotypical Superman pose. 

Steve, still rubbing his throat, eyes unfocused as he seems to stare at something the rest of them can’t see, says, “Maybe we brought something back with us.”

Well, isn’t that a cheery thought. “Maybe it’s something good?” Eddie says, as if anything good has ever crawled out of that place. As if Steve and Eddie and Will didn’t crawl out of that place stripped down like turpentine on paint. Colors leeched and bleeding down. 

“Yeah,” Will says, eyes wide, like he’s watching the Demogorgon break down the trailer door. Like the devil himself has got its hooks in him. “Maybe it’s something good.”

Part 45

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

[luvtak]

corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters. 

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky. 

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him. 

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away. 

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy. 

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there. 

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own. 

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,” 

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story. 

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking. 

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime. 

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity, 

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.” 

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being. 

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.” 

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper. 

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch. 

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[pedropascallme]

Lessons in Patience

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v, spanking, biting, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), very brief mention of bondage, brattamer!Damien, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, cum play, daddy kink, praise, degradation (use of the word slut. Like, a lot), if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Guys I might be a whore. And also I don't know how Elden Ring works.

The room was still. Only soft background noise reminded you of your surroundings; the dishwasher churned across the house, loud enough to hear it from behind the closed door of the bedroom. In the far corner, Damien sat at the computer, and you listened to the inconsistent clicks of the keyboard and brush-like strokes of the mouse. The TV at the foot of the bed where you lounged played reruns of shows you’d never watched when they were originally airing, and the lull of voices and laugh tracks roused you from an otherwise silent repose.

You liked the lazy days; the days when you had nothing to do, when Damien had nothing to do, when neither of you had anywhere to be, and neither of you had anything to get done; you could just take up space in the house together without the fear of being late to something, or worrying about whether you’d be home for dinner.

Really, beyond that, it was about the love you had for him even in the stillness; the way his presence soothed you from across the room, the occasional moments where he’d disconnect himself from whatever he was messing with on the computer to grab at your leg lazily and squeeze your thigh—like he was relieved to feel you still there next to him.

It was a relief to have an unhurried day, where you could dawdle and stay in bed and do nothing. But days like this always gave you the time to let your mind wander—allowed you to fantasize about all the things that could take up the quiet space of the bedroom. And Damien was always at the center of your thoughts, always in the foreground of your daydreams, making you feel warm and fuzzy.

And who could blame you? He sat with his back to you in the desk chair, long-sleeved shirt hugging his biceps, and you could make out the faint lines of his shoulder blades when he stretched. His hair, grown out enough now that his brown roots were visible under the silver dye, fell over his ears and eyes, and curled inwards at the nape of his neck. When he pushed his bands from his face, you could see small tan lines that had formed on the fingers he usually wore rings on. You bit your lip, recalling the contrasting feel of the cold metal and his warm hands against you. Inside you.

His nail polish was chipped, maybe you’d paint them for him tonight.

Still half-dressed in just a shirt, fabric barely hitting your thighs, you stretched yourself out of bed; your feet hit the floor before you actually stood up, back still resting on the mattress before you found the motivation to push yourself off with your elbows and stand up straight.

You padded over to Damien and wrapped your arms around his neck, hands falling over his front and nails scraping gently at his chest and stomach. He reached behind the chair, trying to pull you forward and allow himself to get a better grip on your waist.

“Hi, baby,” He turned the chair slightly and encouraged you to face him.

“Hi,” You followed his lead, situating yourself to stand between his knees, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down to kiss him. “I want you, Damien.”

“Me, Damien?” He laughed up at you, and you made a face in jest.

“Please?” You tugged on his shirt, bunching the fabric over his chest and pulling. He held your wrist limply in his hand.

“I gotta finish here,” he removed your grip from his shirt and kissed your knuckles, “Then I’ll give you anything you want, princess.”

“You have to finish playing Elden Ring?” You ribbed his professional tone, “That’s a must right now?”

“Just need to—I’m running through it so that I know what to expect on stream. I'll be at a save point soon.” He reached out to trail his fingers over the exposed part of your thigh. You hummed at the contact, the heat from his fingers leaving a gentle path over your skin. You wanted so desperately to have him, to feel all of his body against you, but you respected that he was in the middle of something.

Still. That respect only went so far; if it had been emails, Smosh related or otherwise, or editing, maybe you would’ve exercised more patience. Would’ve crawled back into bed and turned up the volume on the TV a bit to keep yourself occupied. But both of you knew Twitch streams were of a more minor importance to him than something like voice acting calls with his agent or zoom calls with coworkers; you considered his transparency about what he was doing as him giving you permission to play dirty.

Especially since you could tell he was nearly done with this run through—you recognized the save point as it approached.

“Ok,” you purred, the picture of innocence despite the thoughts running through your mind, “I’ll just start by myself.”

“Yeah?” Damien looked up at you, turning his chair back to face the computer with his brow raised, amused. “Good luck.” He resumed the game.

You fled back to the comfort of the bed, eyes fixed on the back of Damien’s head as you let your hands roam your body. You’d have to work to get his attention, but that was where the fun began, and from there it was a game you both knew well and enjoyed playing.

You lifted the hem of your shirt, fingers gliding over the skin of your stomach and downward to your cunt. You pressed two fingers to your clit, working up the courage to make a sound, give him a signal that you had followed through on your threat. Your body responded in kind to the feather light touches you gave yourself, and without having to try, a breathy moan escaped your throat.

You watched Damien square his shoulders.

“Better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” He didn’t turn around, still moving the mouse.

“Just making good on my promise." You whispered, sweet and quiet. You continued rubbing circles over your clit, exciting the nerves throughout your body, the natural lubricant of your slick becoming more apparent as your arousal grew.

Damien turned the chair around, still sitting as he watched you touch yourself. You paused your movements to make eye contact with him, and you could see the way his eyes darkened when he lowered his gaze and saw your hand connected to your bare cunt.

“Well keep going, then,” his voice was like gravel, “You want to do it yourself? I won’t stop you.” He folded his arms, nodding at you, “Let me see you struggle to make yourself cum, baby. Want to see how hard it is for you to do what I do.”

His words ignited something inside you; fueled by playful spite and an urge to continue your bratty show, you plunged two fingers into your heat. You took a sharp breath, lips parted as you curled your fingers to press against the soft flesh within you. The muscle in Damien’s jaw tensed and his nostrils flared just enough for you to notice. You just smiled.

“Feels good, daddy.” You squirmed slightly around the intrusion of your own fingers. In truth, your own hands could never provide the type of bliss his could; yours were smaller, shorter, all-around inferior to his when it came to providing you satisfaction.

But that wouldn’t stop you from trying. Not when you had a show to put on.

Damien shifted in his seat, bottom lip between his teeth while he watched you fuck yourself open as best you could. “I bet.”

You lifted your hips from the mattress, supporting yourself with your back, feet planted firmly on the bed. This new angle was a godsend; you could reach deeper within yourself, the crevices of your walls shifting around your fingers and showing you the hidden spots that knocked wind from your lungs. “Fuck—oh my god.”

“I’d have gotten you there by now, you know.” Damien seethed in his chair, unmoving, teeth gritted. “Would’ve been so much better if you let daddy do it for you.”

He knew you were struggling to find the tipping point, knew you had to stretch your fingers to reach the spots that required stimulation, knew you were imagining his hand instead of yours.

“Don’t need—don’t need daddy to do it for me,” your smile was absolutely devious, and the moans that fell from your mouth downright filthy. “I can do it by myself. I can…so close...”

“Show me, then.” He demanded, standing and making his way to the bed, “You don���t need my help?” He settled in the spot next to you, crowding you on the mattress while you drove your fingers in and out of your entrance, his lips brushing your temple when he spoke. “You don’t need my fingers? Hm? Don’t want my cock?”

Your façade faltered, but you managed to keep yourself distracted from his words with the way your fingertips grazed your most delicate spot. “I can—do it,” you reassured him, mocking tone coming across more stilted than you had intended as you wrestled with your own body.

“No you can’t, baby.” He smiled, hand coming to sit on top of your own, moving with you, “And if you do, you’ll be in so much more trouble than you already are.”

Something about his voice, the deep vibrations you felt in his chest combined with the soft touch of his big hand over yours; the mock frustration you had with him, and the real frustration you had with yourself as you tried desperately to cum; the way his eyes pierced through your own, it all worked together to spur you on. With the encroaching weightlessness you felt in your limbs, and his breath against your cheek, you finally reached the edge.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, grinning wide as you pumped your fingers in and out for the last time, letting the heel of your palm push against your clit. You were breathless, tired, but not as satisfied as you knew he would’ve made you.

You turned to him, and he already had his gaze fixed on you.

“Couldn’t help it,” you mumbled, “Felt good.”

“Just good?” Damien stared you down, removing his hand from yours. “We both know that good isn’t good enough for you.”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to do it.”

“Yeah. I am.” He stood again. Before you could ask where he was going or what he was planning, he wrapped his hands around your ankles and pulled you sideways over the mattress until your legs hung over the side of the bed. He flipped you onto your stomach, raising the hem of the shirt you still wore to expose your slick-coated cunt.

“You’re so impatient, baby. If you wanted to cum, you could’ve just asked.” You could feel the fan of his breath, cold against your wet cunt, as he kneeled behind you, face centimeters from your entrance. “But since you put on such a nice show, I think I’ll do you one better.” He admired the sight before him, one finger trailing over your slit to collect your wet. He pulled back and sucked the gathered moisture from his hand.

“Oh, I bet,” you goaded him, even despite the position you were in and the punishment you knew you deserved. “This isn’t much of a punishment, daddy.” You giggled into the blankets, bunching the comforter against your face to cushion you and hold the noises you made.

“We’ll see.” He straightened out slightly and delivered a hard smack to your ass. You yelped, moaning at the sting and suddenly ready to obey his every word. “Count them.”

“Was that—does that count as one?” You questioned, sticking your ass out for him and waiting for his hand to come down again.

“Princess, you really think that all you’re getting is a spanking?” Damien soothed the skin he had just slapped, rubbing his palm in circles over your ass. “Didn’t say I wanted you to count the spanks, baby.”

“So wh—Oh, my god—” You couldn’t form the question, and as it turned out, you didn’t have to ask at all—he was one step ahead of you. His fingers plunged deep into your entrance and immediately sought out the spot you’d had so much trouble finding just minutes ago.

“You’re gonna count how many times I make you cum." He bit into the flesh of your ass before trailing his tongue down and over the skin of your thigh, eager to sample every inch of you, undeniably turned on after watching you fight so hard to make yourself cum. “And you’re going to tell me how good daddy makes you feel. And you’re going to say thank you every time.” You let out a low moan of his name, and his hand connected in a sharp smack with your ass once more. “What'd you say?”

“Yes, daddy,” Your words were muffled by the blankets you bunched in your fists, but that did nothing to hide the excitement in your voice.

“There you go,” he removed his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, “Knew my good girl was still in there somewhere.” He spread you open, spitting, and watching the strand of saliva drip down from your asshole and over your cunt. He leaned forward, giving in to temptation and tasting you.

“I am good! I can be good…” You whined, squirming at the feel of his stubble against your skin as he ate you like a man starved.

“Prove it,” strands of spit connected his mouth to your cunt as he spoke. He licked another stripe over you, biting your thigh, “Prove it, baby.” He returned to your core, licking into you and occasionally brushing over your clit. He bit into the skin of your other thigh before he again took to fucking you with his tongue.

You moaned at the feel of his teeth on your skin, and moaned louder when his tongue pushed into you. You reached behind your body, trying to find the leverage to push him further against you, but he grabbed your hand before you could lace your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think so,” he pushed your hand away and smiled at your frustrated moan. “I kept my hands to myself when you were playing, didn’t I?” You let out a quiet sound and he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp. “Words.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yes what?” He rolled your clit in between his fingers, torturously slow and forcing you to buck your hips into nothing, so desperate for more.

“You kept your hands to yourself.”

“So…?”

“So, I need to keep my hands to myself.” You whimpered when he removed his grasp on your clit, opting now to massage it with two fingers.

“Good, baby,” he praised, keeping his fingers steady on your clit. He spit onto your cunt again. “Remember that. Don’t make me tie you down.”

You whimpered at his words, hoping that he’d follow through on that threat—if not now, later.

“Oh, you like that?” He pushed three fingers into you, relishing how you arched your back and moaned his title. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you act like a slut.” He moved his hands in sync, fingers punching into you, his opposite hand kneading your clit. “Are you a slut, baby?”

You nodded vehemently, gripping the comforter, so close to the edge you could taste it. “Yes—yes, daddy!”

“Yeah?” He curled his fingers, letting them brush repeatedly over your g-spot until he saw your legs tremble. “You like being a slut?”

“O—nly for you,” you had to think hard to form any words, your brain clouded with pleasure, “Only for daddy.” You tried, and failed, to support yourself on your hands, then your forearms; the sensation became too much, and your arms gave out under you, leaving you to tilt your head back so that he could hear your cries without the comforter muting them.

“I know. I know, baby. Only for daddy.” He cooed, hands working in tandem to help you reach your high. “Let me see how pretty my princess looks when she cums for me. Show me, baby, show me what a good little slut you are.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; you felt your abs tighten, panting as your walls clenched around his thick fingers, and you let your head fall flat onto the mattress. Your thighs twitched, and there were stars behind your eyes when Damien curled his fingers inside you one last time, stroking the delicate spot within you in time with the patterns he rubbed over your clit.

You felt heavenly, satisfied now more than you had been after your own attempt; you were fully capable of making yourself feel good, but he was capable of making you feel absolutely wonderful, and following the orgasm you’d forced from yourself, the one he gave you was so much better—positively perfect.

Damien stood behind you, leaning over you to move the hair that had fallen across your face during your squirmier moments, and to kiss your head. You could feel his stiff length pressing against you, and despite the exhaustion you already felt in your bones, your eagerness far outweighed any fatigue you had.

“Remember to count, princess.” He whispered in your ear between soft kisses pressed to your sweaty skin.

“One,” you mumbled, “That was one. Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He licked a stripe up your neck, and you mewled for him. He flipped you onto your back, and you looked up at him through your lashes. “You’re gonna keep being good for me, right?” He trailed his fingers down your thighs, moving back up to ghost over your sensitive cunt. You nodded, and he smiled, sharp teeth threatening to poke over his bottom lip.

“Gonna be so good,” You stretched your arms out, and he pulled you up to him with his hands on your biceps. You let him take your shirt off, collapsing back onto the bed with your hands above your head and your wrists crossed, giddy. He remained fully clothed, the silver chain tucked under his shirt only given away by the shine that circled the back of his neck. You couldn’t help but stare.

How could a man be just as sexy fully clothed as he was when he was undressed? You didn’t know how he managed, but you ogled him all the same, even in your post-orgasm haze.

His hands continued to trail your now completely naked body; thumbs brushing over your nipples while his hands groped at your breasts leisurely, dipping down to squeeze your hips and waist before returning to your heat to tease you where you were already overstimulated. He leaned over you, taking one nipple in his mouth and alternating between rolling it between his teeth and sucking on the pebbled skin. You grabbed at the blankets, anchoring yourself under him.

He undid his zipper, removing his now painfully hard cock from his jeans and letting it rest over your cunt. You gasped, moaning at the weight and feel of him. You wanted so desperately to touch him, and as if he read your mind, he took your hand and guided it over his length, effectively ending the "hands to yourself" rule he had been enforcing.

“You’re being so good, princess,” he let go of your hand and you hesitated, waiting for further instruction. “Go ahead. You’re allowed.”

You hummed, fingers sliding over the soft skin of his shaft. You teased his tip with your thumb, and he bit back a quiet hiss.

“This is what patient girls get, see?” He stroked your thigh while you ran your hand up his length, “This is what good girls get when they wait.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You were muttering, craning your neck to see how your hand looked wrapped around him. You clenched around nothing.

He gently removed your hand, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and rocking into you slowly. You felt the familiar, welcome pressure in your lower half; the way your body made space for him, let him stretch you out until you were a perfect fit.

“God, you take me so well,” He groaned, pushing more of himself into you and reveling in the way your warmth sheathed him. “So pretty, letting me get you ready with my fingers. This is what you wanted, hm? Needed attention?”

“Yes, daddy,” you couldn’t hide the slack-jawed look of scatterbrained bliss on your face even if you wanted to. “Needed you to make me feel good.”

“Cause you can’t do it yourself, isn’t that right?” He bottomed out with a low moan. His hands rested on your hips, forcing his cock to stay buried inside of you.

“Only daddy,” you arched your back, legs coming to wrap around his hips and let him sit even further within you, “Only daddy can make me feel good.”

“That’s fucking right." He smiled, grip on your hips tightening as he pulled out and drove back into you, pistoning his hips at a pace that he had clearly set in his mind prior to even getting his cock out. His bottom lip sat trapped between his teeth.

Damien alternated between the perfect views he had; your face, contorting in pleasure, pleas falling from your lips, begging him to go faster, harder, do anything to you, whatever he wanted, as your eyes rolled back; and your cunt, wrapped tight around him, taking what he gave you, your thighs soaked with your slick.

You were the only person he ever wanted to look at.

“Oh—fuck, that’s s-so deep,” Your head fell back, pushing against the mattress, as the feeling of his cock brushing your cervix made your lip tremble. “Daddy, just like that.”

He watched your hands roam over your abdomen, situating atop your lower stomach and pressing against the bulge of his cock inside you. He growled, reaching to grab your legs and pull them up so that your feet were resting on his shoulders. Your lower half lifted slightly off the bed, big hands moving under the curve of your ass to keep you there.

“Look at you, baby,” he admired the way you let him throw you around, “Getting fucked out like the pretty slut you are.” He could feel your walls fluttering around him.

“I’m goi—I’m so fucking—” You searched for the words, not caring when you couldn’t find them; you were certain he could take the hint from your frenzied moans and repeated cries.

“Are you gonna give me another one, princess? You gonna let daddy feel you cum?” His brow was furrowed, and he looked almost empathetic through his colder, dominant bearing. He leaned forward, pushing your legs towards your chest with your ass still in the air, and the shift in angle made you scream, forgetting every other word you’d ever known and replacing them with his name. You clawed at his back, nails slipping over the fabric of his shirt, and he laughed through groans while he ground his hips against you.

And then you were cumming again, his name and his title falling repeatedly from your lips, a messy amalgamation of curses and whimpers that you cried over, and over, and over again. He let your legs fall to the side, and you wrapped them around his hips again. He stayed inside you, cock still hard, twitching with the pulse of your cunt as you faced the aftershock of your orgasm. He thrust into you shallowly, letting you reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. He bent over you, holding your chin between his fingers.

“What number was that?”

“T-two,” you felt loopy, and you giggled against his mouth when he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss he gave you felt chaste, almost shy, in comparison to the way he fucked you, but you liked it; it encapsulated perfectly what it was like to be his—safe and taken care of—and you loved it. You loved him. “Thank you.”

“Good job.” He whispered against your lips before returning to the kiss. “Knew you could do it. Knew you’d be good for me—just needed a little reminder, right? Needed me to put you in your place.”

You nodded, officially lost to the submissive fog of your mind, focused only on being obedient for him. “Need daddy.”

“You have me, baby. I’m all yours.” He straightened, taking off his shirt and tossing it haphazardly somewhere on the floor. His jeans and boxers followed, joining the heap of discarded clothing in the corner.

You stayed in the spot where he left you, sticky between your legs and entranced by every movement Damien made.

He refocused his attention on you, his smile almost serene despite the fact that you both knew he wasn’t done yet. He once again found himself next to you on the bed, situating himself facing you and admiring the fucked-out look on your face. You reached out for him lazily, and he grabbed your wrists, holding your hands and kissing over your knuckles just as he had earlier.

“C’mere,” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he rolled over with you in his arms, prompting you to straddle him. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Please,” You squeaked, hands trailing down the expanse of his chest and over his stomach, grazing his soft skin with a hungry urgency. “I want more.” You looped a finger through the chain on his neck before letting it unravel and going back to your exploration of his chest. "Make me take it until I can't anymore, daddy, please."

“Slut.” Damien shook his head, laughing to himself about the bright-eyed way you took your punishment. He pulled you forward onto him, and you sighed dreamily; the warmth of his body pressed against yours like pieces of a puzzle, flesh to flesh.

He snaked his arm over your thigh and under your body, pumping himself in his hand. His other hand pushed up against your ass, encouraging you to raise yourself up to give him the room to push into you. You obliged, and though he’d already fucked you, made you cum twice, and overstimulated all of your senses, the first shove of his hips still made you gasp, astonished by the stretch and feel of having all of him inside of you.

“Fuck,” He leaned back, hands rubbing over the flesh of your hips in a show of affection and power, keeping you steady as he bottomed out. “Greedy fucking pussy.”

You had your hands on his shoulders, muscles sensitive from your prior orgasms and unable to sit upright. But you were both content this way, with your tits accessible for him to toy with while he used you. He sucked on the plush flesh, watching as purple bruises formed and nipping at them before turning his head to make another.

The familiar tug of some hidden chord inside you grew steadily. Damien raised his hips off the bed, simultaneously pushing you down onto him by your hips, resulting in his cock driving into you as far as he could possibly go at this angle. You gave up on trying to support yourself, collapsing onto his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What’s wrong princess?” He was taunting you, “Too much? Are you too sensitive to take what daddy gives you?” He wrapped both arms around your body, keeping you pressed against him as he thrust into you, hard and fast.

“N—o,” you moaned, unable to hide the satisfaction you got from his playful ridicule, “Feels—shit, I want—please, please, it’s so nice, daddy, feels fucking amazing.”  

“Yeah?” He moved one hand up to tug on your hair, easing you from your hideaway in the crook of his neck and forcing you to look down at him, “Tell me, baby, tell me how it feels when daddy fucks you.”

He kept his hand in your hair, the pull forcing your back to arch and letting him hit the best spots inside you. You weren't shy about the pleasure he was granting you.

“Amazing!” You clawed at his shoulders, shallow red marks that would fade within the hour painting the skin on his upper arm and over his chest. “Feels amazing!”

“What feels amazing?” He was smiling, taking great pride in hearing all the ways you responded to his movements and the way your mouth twisted to get the words out.

“Daddy—daddy feels so perfect inside me!” You practically sobbed it, overcome with the bliss of being full of him.

“That’s right. Tell daddy you love him.” He had to fight to hide the pleading cadence in his voice; somehow the strongest desire he had, even balls deep inside you, was hearing those three words fall from your lips.

“I love you,” You gasped, nails carving crescent shapes into his skin, “I fucking love you.”

He went slack jawed, the glee behind your words pairing perfectly with the way your cunt squeezed him. “I love you, princess,” He moaned it, “I love you so much.”

“Want—want you inside me all the time like this. Wanna feel you all the time, daddy.” Your legs hurt and your skin felt raw and tender, but, god, if you didn’t love moments like this.

At that, Damien let out a low growl, removing his grip on your hair and letting you rest your head on his shoulder once more. “God, you’re fucking needy,” he was fucking into you wildly, and the sound of skin on skin and the slick leaking from you created a chorus you could listen to for hours on end. “You want this cock all the time? Is that what you want?”

You nodded against him. “Please, daddy.”

“You just want to be all sore and sensitive for me? Let me fuck you all the time?”

“Yes! Ye—es!” You were drooling, the puddle of your spit mixing with the tears of elation that slipped from your eyes. Your clit dragged over him perfectly in this position, sending jolts through your already overstimulated body. You could feel yourself squeezing around his cock with every harsh ram of his hips.

“There you go, princess,” he felt it too, his excitement building alongside yours . “Give it to me, baby. C’mon and cum for me again.” He slowed his thrusts, letting you take what you needed; one of his hands found its way between your bodies and offered your sore clit a boost of stimulation.

That was what sent you over the edge—that, and hearing the way he praised you, the repetition of his moans and the way he called you so pretty, so good for him, an eager little slut who follows directions so well. You thought you might black out, so exhausted and spent, but still so desperate for him as you clung to his body through your orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” You slurred your words together, high off the pleasure that fanned out from your core and across your entirety.

"Good, princess, that's right. Such good manners." Damien stroked your hair. "Gonna fucking cum for you, baby. Give you a reward for being so good for me, fill you up nice and deep." His long, unhurried thrusts led him to his own high, which he greeted with a groan and a drawn-out sigh of your name. You moaned, feeling the warmth spread over you, and you lifted your head to connect your lips to his.

He took his time, licking into your mouth and savoring the way you whimpered into him; it was messy and sleepy, and paired well with the tacky feeling between your thighs as his cum dripped from you, mixed with your own.

Damien flipped you over, supporting himself on his forearms as he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, miles away, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and tears and spit, and he thought you were the most beautiful thing in that moment, and in every other.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you whined at the loss.

“Shh, princess, I know. It’s ok.” He ran his hands over your torso when he removed himself from you. “Hi, baby.” He ran his knuckles soothingly over your cheek, and you closed your eyes, humming. “What number was that?”

“Three.”

“Think you can give me one more?”

Your eyes went wide, and you bit your lip, unable to hide the dopey smile you got upon hearing his question. “Make me.”

“Fucking bratty—even after all this?” He laughed, kissing your nose before moving down your body and putting your legs over his shoulders. “You tell me if it’s too much now, alright?”

“I know, daddy.” Your words were defiant despite how limp and weary you felt. You stretched your arm down to stroke his cheek with the tips of your fingers.

“Think I would’ve fucked the attitude out of you by now.” He grinned, and you bit your tongue, giggling.

You watched him lower his face to your core, his breath catching on the sticky mixture that seeped from your hole and making you shiver. Damien savored the image before swiping his tongue through your folds, collecting the blend of your cum and groaning at the taste. You let your hands wander, one fondling your own chest, the other buried in his hair. Damien's hands roamed up and down your legs, brushing over your stomach and hips in an effort to ground you, to make sure you were comfortable and knew you were safe despite your current state of fragility.

Every movement of his tongue made you flinch, overly sensitive but loving every second you got to watch him between the V of your thighs. The light swipes of his tongue made the hair across your body stand up on goose flesh.

“Oh—” You let out a small gasp when he nudged your clit with his nose, tongue exploring your entrance. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightened, and he moaned against you; the vibrations made you tremble, and with little warning you were cumming again, whispering his name and words of praise and appreciation.

Damien rubbed your thigh, moving to lie down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. One of his hands pressed against your back, feeling your ribcage expand as you caught your breath.

“That was four.” You spoke after a few moments of silence, and he squeezed you against his chest. "Thank you, daddy."

“Didn’t even have to ask you that time.” He brushed the hair from your face and peppered kisses over your forehead.

“I know,” you leaned back slightly to smile up at him, proud of yourself, “I’m just that good.”

“So good. You’re so good for me.” He emphasized every word with a soft peck on your lips, and you laughed. "Always so good. So beautiful, so sweet, baby, and you’re all mine." His praise helped you come back down to earth, the haziness in your head caused by repeated stimulation easing up and being replaced by pure contentedness and tired eyes.

You realized the scratches you left on his chest were deeper than you’d intended for them to be, still stark against his pale skin, and you trailed your fingers over them.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to mark you up like that.” You lay your head against a pillow, intertwining your legs with Damien’s and looking up at him. You kept your hands curled over his chest, basking in the security you felt in the heat of his body.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he ran his thumb over your lips, and you kissed it, “You should see the other guy.”

“Bet the other guy is really hot…” You countered. “Probably really obedient, too.”

“Really hot,” he laughed, “But between you and me…kind of a brat.”

“Am not!” You pushed against his chest, and he caught your wrists, leaning forward to engulf you again and kiss your face.

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, “How’d we end up in bed like this?”

“No idea. I thought you knew…” You giggled at your own faux perplexity. Damien rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Do you want ice, baby? Or heat?” He nudged your nose with his. "I can run you a bath—or do you want me to get you the heating pad?"

“Ice.” You grabbed his arm when he moved to stand, “Later, though. Now I just want you. Please.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?” He returned to your side, letting your hands wander over him.

“You know, after four orgasms, you might think that,” Your hand came to rest on his stomach, tracing shapes over him, “But you’re just so enticing.” You toyed with his silver necklace. “Tell me, baby: was this worth the time you spent apart from your beloved game?” You teased, and he pulled you on top of him again, letting you sink lazily against him.

“Funny,” he smiled, one arm under his head to allow himself the full view of you on top of him. He ran his hand through your hair, lazy kisses landing on the top of your head, “Don’t tempt me to make it five.”

[megalony]

Let Him Burn

This is an Eddie Diaz requested by Anon, I hope you like it, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) takes Chris to the shop for their weekly magazine, but things take a bad turn when someone starts a hostage situation and the 118 arrives to save the day.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on then, cheeky boy." Reaching into the car, (Y/n) scooped Christopher up in her arms, gave him a little spin and set him down on his feet so he could grab the crutches that were waiting for him.

She carded her fingers through his wet locks and slung her bag on her shoulder. A smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when Chris started to speed ahead into the shop. Despite just finishing hydrotherapy which was a tiring hour for him, he was still full of energy and ready to go speeding round the shop.

Every Friday after school, (Y/n) would come to the school and join Chris for his hydro session in the small pool at the back of the school. It was a small rectangle pool but they booked it out every Friday so Chris could make use of it and he could be on his own with his parents when Eddie had the afternoons free to join them. Chris loved to splash around and play with the floats and it burned the last of his energy that he had for the day.

Now it was the second routine they had on a Friday afternoon, they went to the shop ten minutes away from home. Chris would choose the same chocolate bar, the animal farm one with different pictures and inscriptions on each one. And he would get a new Dino magazine that came out weekly on a Friday. They contained new miniature figures and fun facts and he could colour and cut out and make new things.

Chris liked (Y/n) to read the facts and stories to him in the evening and then on the Saturday he would spend all morning cutting out and colouring and doing the activities.

It was one of his favourite routines.

"Chocolate," Chris beamed up at (Y/n) when she caught him up and walked into the shop with him.

(Y/n) rested her hand on his back and nodded, following him past the fruit and veg and towards the back of the shop where the sweetie aisle was.

"I think daddy deserves one too, he's done a double shift."

"Yeah!" Chris grabbed two and handed them over, it made him feel special when Eddie would have a chocolate bar with him and they knew Eddie would be home early tonight. He had been on shift since yesterday afternoon so he was supposed to be home on time for tea if all went well.

(Y/n) followed a step behind him round the corner towards the next aisle where the magazines were and right where it always was on the front row was the blue and green magazine Chris always picked. She let him grab it and he juggled it along with his crutch and they dawdled down towards the checkout.

"Why aren't you fucking listening to me? Try it again,"

Frowning, (Y/n) curled an arm around Chris's shoulders and pulled him back into her chest as she stopped walking. She didn't want to go to the checkout with Chris if that man was going to start shouting, it would unsettle her son.

She watched the lady at the desk try his card again but when it didn't work, he slammed his hand down on the counter and threw the bottle of whiskey onto the floor. The glass shattered, the alcohol splashed like droplets of rain forming a puddle and when he shouted, (Y/n) reeled back.

Chris jumped in her arms, the smile instantly dropping from his face as he brought his hands up to cover his ears, holding the magazine tightly against his left ear in his panic.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm not doing this shit, do it properly or I'll light this place up!"

Fear bolted through (Y/n)'s body and tingled down to her toes. The man got a lighter out of his pocket and despite how badly he was shaking, he held the lighter out as if he might either throw it on the alcohol on the floor or throw it on the lady at the checkout. He hadn't made up his mind and either prospect made (Y/n) choke.

Why today? Why did this idiot have to make a fuss today on all days? Why now when Chris was having his Friday routine did this idiot have to make a scene?

"Mummy,"

Reaching down, (Y/n) turned Chris around and let him burrow his face into her chest. He kept his hands covering his ears and (Y/n) tangled her hand into his curls to try and soothe him but she could feel him starting to tremble against her. Each time the man shouted, Chris jumped and shuddered and gasped until he finally screamed.

The scream vibrated through (Y/n)'s chest and shook her heart behind her ribs. She felt the magazine drop to the floor and Chris fought in her arms until he could flop down onto his knees and curl his chest over his legs with his arms pinned into his chest and his hands still over his ears. The crutches fell from his elbows and crashed to the floor with a clattering bang.

"Okay baby, shh, I'm here." (Y/n) went down on her knees in front of him and coiled her arms around him, trying to gently shush him but a fire lit up her eyes when she looked over at the man.

"What's he doing, what're you doing?"

"You're scaring him, what do you expect him to do?" She snapped back, unable to control her own anger. He couldn't expect the few people in the shop to be happy that he was causing a scene. "Baby come here, let's go home."

Reaching forward, (Y/n) curled her arms around Chris's chest and slowly pulled him up into her chest before she tried to stand. His legs hooked loosely around her waist and he tightly dug his arms into her neck until she could barely breathe. His breathing was laboured and harsh in the crook of her neck and he was about to start crying, she could feel it. But (Y/n) didn't get two steps before she stumbled back when the man threw a can of beer her way, narrowly missing her head.

"Stay where I can see you or I'll light this place up!"

Something inside (Y/n) told her to bolt. She could leave Chris's crutches here and the magazine and chocolate which were all on the floor. She could make a break for the exit with Chris in her arms and get in the car and go home. It wasn't worth the risk. As much as (Y/n) could run with her boy in her arms, that man was close and he could still start a fire or throw something else or hurt the cashier.

There was any number of things he could do and (Y/n) didn't want the risk, not unless it was a last resort.

But she didn't know how long Chris could stay here without having a full blown meltdown. Screaming was just the start and (Y/n) dreaded what else her son would do when panicked like this.

"Okay,"

(Y/n) nodded her head and slowly lowered herself down to her knees, still with Chris clinging to her front like a baby monkey. She gently shushed him and started to sway back and forth like when he was little and woke with nightmares. Her hand dug deep into his curls and she kissed his forehead repeatedly.

"Mummy, don't like it." His words were slurred around his thumb he was deeply biting down on, something he did when he was extremely happy or extremely unsettled.

"I know baby, we'll go home soon. I've got you," Shifting round, (Y/n) sat down on her bum, spread her legs out and kept Chris sitting on her lap. She could feel her legs beginning to burn and her lower back was starting to ache already but it didn't matter. What mattered was keeping Chris calm and safe, no matter what.

The stranger started to rant again but (Y/n) couldn't work out what he was saying, all she could hear was Chris whimpering into her neck and her heartbeat thudding rapidly in her ears.

Each can of beer the man threw made (Y/n) jerk and jump but when she watched the man throw down another bottle of whiskey just past the checkout near the window, fright took over her. He leaned down and set the alcohol alight with his lighter and jumped back to stop himself from getting lit up too.

This was bad.

With one arm still around Chris's waist and his face tucked into her neck- thankfully looking behind her so he couldn't see anything happening- (Y/n) dug around in her pocket. She fished her phone out and scrolled down to Eddie's contact. This was going to be hard.

"Ola mi amor, how are you? Did hydro go okay?" It was a relief to hear Eddie's voice after only two rings. Part of (Y/n) was afraid he would already be out on a call and wouldn't be able to answer and if she rang 911 they might think she was pranking them and hang up on her.

"Shh baby, good boy, everything will be okay." (Y/n) buried her nose and mouth into Chris's shoulder and kept her trembling hand between their merged chests. She had to have the phone close enough to speak and just about hear Eddie's voice on the other end but she couldn't let the stranger see in case it infuriated him or made him set another fire.

"(Y/n) what's wrong? Is Chris having a meltdown?" The panic was evident in Eddie's voice when his tone dropped an octave and a sterness overtook him.

"Hm,"

"Mi Amor why aren't you talking to me, is something happening?" Eddie reached his hand out and grabbed Bobby's arm, stopping him from walking past.

He'd never had (Y/n) ring him up like this before. If something was wrong she would always talk to him right away, she would rant and rave if something happened. She would panic or get upset if something was bothering her or Chris and if their son was particularly upset she would hand Chris the phone so Eddie could calm him down and talk to him. She always spoke when he answered, she wasn't giving clear answers right now and it was unnerving.

"Yes, baby."

Fear struck Eddie's heart and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear while simultaneously gripping Bobby's arm in a tighter grip.

"Where are you?" Eddie glanced at his watch strapped to his wrist and racked his brain. "Fuck, hydro's finished so… so are you at the store with Chris, for his book and chocolate?"

Eddie had all of Chris's routines memorised, each day was planned and specified because routines kept Chris happy and in order. He liked structure and if something had to change, they had to sit him down and explain what and why and make sure something else was in place for him. It made him feel calm to know what he was doing.

They had meal plans each week so Chris knew what he was eating each day, they had structures for shopping and only on a Saturday night would Chris ever try and watch a new movie. Every other day he stuck to the same Disney and cartoon movies he knew and liked.

Eddie knew by this time hydro was done and finished and they should be on their way home from the shop with his magazine and usual animal chocolate.

"Hm, yeah."

"Daddy?" Chris started to drool onto his hand and the back of (Y/n)'s shirt but she didn't care. She continued to smooth her free hand up and down his back.

"Shh, we need to stay quiet baby. We'll see daddy soon." She couldn't have Chris trying to talk to Eddie or she would have to hang up. The man couldn't know, if he knew she was calling someone, much less a firefighter, he would get manic.

"Mi amor," Eddie paused, gulped and took a shakey breath, "Are you being threatened or held hostage in the store?"

"That's right baby, we'll see daddy soon."

Bile rose in the back of Eddie's throat and he stumbled forward until Bobby held an arm out around his chest and hoisted him back up.

Oh God.

His family, his wife and son, they were being held hostage in the store. Chris had never been in a situation like this before. He had never been forced to stay somewhere or had his safety threatened. He didn't even watch movies about hostages or guns or violence, Chris wouldn't know what it meant or what was going on.

"We're coming, we'll be there soon mi amor I swear-"

"Who the fuck are you talking to? Why are you spouting shit?"

(Y/n) held the phone closer to her chest and continued to rock back and forth. This was going to give her a chance to speak a bit more freely to Eddie before she hung up. He knew what shop they always went to on a Friday, he had been part of this routine thousands of times each week. Eddie could get the team down here and help them out.

"I'm talking to my son, I told you you're frightening him."

"Stop talking-"

"Then let us leave, let me take him out of here-"

"No one's fucking leaving! This place will go up in flames if you keep testing me, bitch."

"Daddy! I want daddy. Home. Home. Home!"

Terror struck Eddie's heart when (Y/n) hung up on him. Why did he have to be on shift today? Why couldn't he of had today off and worked last Friday or next Friday instead? Anything to be there with his family right now. He could try and descale the argument and calm down the person threatening his family. He could of tried to get them out of there and keep them safe and make sure Chris wasn't going into a meltdown and (Y/n) wasn't panicked.

"(Y/n)…? (Y/n)! Fuck!!" Eddie let his weight drop onto Bobby as his vision blurred with tears and his head started to fill up with air.

They had to get down there. Now.

***

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) buried her nose in Chris's curls and tried to hum quietly in his ear but it didn't do anything to calm him down. If anything, she could feel his panic rising until he started to cry and he was itching to move in her arms. He kept his arms bound tight around (Y/n)'s neck like he was trying to strangle her but his legs kicked out against her hips and he squirmed until (Y/n) had to pin both arms around his waist as tight as she had ever done.

She couldn't have him try and fight his way out of her arms, she had to keep hold of him in case she had to make a break for it and run out of here. Chris wouldn't be able to run or hurry even with his crutches. (Y/n) had to be ready.

"Daddy. Home. Go Home!"

A tremor ran down (Y/n)'s spine when Chris slammed his hand down on her back and made her wince. He wasn't trying to hurt her, he was panicking and he didn't know what to do or how to make everything stop. He wanted his chocolate, his magazine and to be back at home without anything bad happening.

He wanted to be home with his parents, not stuck in a shop with people shouting and crying.

"Daddy's coming here to get us, he should be here soon baby," She continued to rock him back and forth despite how badly he was thrashing around in her arms.

"I want d-"

Chris shuddered and gasped in (Y/n)'s arms when the distant sound of a fire engine rattled the store and got closer. The team had gotten here, Eddie had gotten to them as fast as he could. They were going to get everyone out.

The siren continued to blaze which alerted the man that someone was going to come in and ruin whatever plan he had concocted. His violent shouts, the siren and the sudden blaring fire alarm in the store all became too much for Chris who started to scream at the top of his lungs. He chomped his teeth down on the side of his hand and smashed his forehead into (Y/n)'s shoulder as if he wanted to smother himself to make everything stop.

The action sent (Y/n) tumbling backwards into a shelf and her arms momentairely let go of Chris to cradle the back of her head.

A split second was all Chris needed to scramble out of his mum's arms and shuffle away. He felt like he had tunnel vision, all he could see was the door where he knew his dad and the team would be waiting for them. He wanted Eddie, he wanted uncle Buck and Bobby to get him and take him and his mum home. He wanted to be out of here now.

"Christopher!"

Rolling onto her stomach, (Y/n) scraped her knees on the floor to try and get to her feet and grab him when she saw the assailant bolt towards them.

There was only a split second for (Y/n) to decide what to do and in that moment, she hooked her hands under Chris's arms, hoisted him up off his feet and bolted towards the door.

"Cap I have to get in there-"

"We can't risk running in blind we don't know if he's holding them hostage, if he had a weapon or if he's hurt anyone."

"That's my family! He was threatening to light the place up!" Eddie slammed his fist into the side of the truck, relishing in the burn it ignited in his knuckles and how it caused his nerves to flare.

He had to get in that store now, he had to go in and get his family out and keep them safe, that was his job. Eddie's job was to protect people and keep them safe and if he couldn't protect his family, he shouldn't be doing this job. (Y/n) had called him, she had been desperate for help and Eddie had to do something about this situation.

"Someone's coming out," Hen dug her hand into Eddie's shoulder and pointed towards the entrance to the shop when the automatic doors opened.

"Eddie!"

His head snapped to the left in time to see his wife running out with Christopher in her arms. But right on her tail was a man with vengence in his eyes, fury on his face and his arms stretched out towards her.

Both Eddie and Buck set off into a run but their paces faltered when they watched the stranger grab a fistful of (Y/n)'s hair and yank her backwards forcefully. A strangled sound left her lips and she tilted Chris forward to give him a shove towards the team to get him safe.

The eight year old stumbled forward, tripped over his feet and went down on his knees. He pressed his palms back over his ears, screamed as loud as his lungs would allow and curved his chest down over his knees with his head pressed into his legs to hide himself away and become as small as possible. He was out, he wanted Eddie and he wanted to get in the car and go home, whatever was happening wasn't fun and he wanted it to stop.

"I got you, come here buddy." Buck reached down and scooped Chris up before he backtracked towards Chimney who was waiting uncertainly by the ambulance. He needed Chris as far away from the scene as possible and he had to check if he had any injuries.

"Get off! E-Eddie…"

(Y/n) reached behind her to try and grab the wrist that was tangled up in her hair and in a frantic panic, she waved her left arm to try and either hit him or get some leverage and add some distance between them. His hold was strong and the force he yanked her back with caused her to stumble down to her knees.

She couldn't help but scream when he slammed her head into the side of the door and tried his best to drag her back into the burning shop by her hair. Her head started to thud and everything turned and spun on its axis around her.

A pitiful howl left her lips when she felt his lighter scrape down her left arm from her elbow to her wrist and the flame licked and fizzed against her skin. She dug her nails into his face and screamed, digging her heels into the floor to try and stop him from moving her any further.

She could feel Eddie's name on the tip of her tongue until she managed to open her blurry eyes and saw him heading straight for her. She barely got to focus her vision before Eddie was lunging.

His elbow flew into the man's nose earning a successful snap and when his head shot back, Eddie grabbed his wrist and twisted it round so he dropped the lighter that had burned his wife. As swift as anything, Eddie dropped the left side of his body and pummeled his shoulder into the man's chest and took him down to the ground.

He pinned his knee down on the man's groin and curled his fingers into his palm, smashing his already bruised knuckles into the man's face causing blood to splatter across the gleaming white floor.

He wanted to keep going.

Eddie wanted to smash his fist into the man's face until the flesh tore apart and the bones were exposed. He wanted to pin him down and light up his skin like he'd just done to (Y/n) and drag him closer to the flames by the roots of his hair. Eddie wanted to frighten him and punish him and pummel him for terrorising his family like that.

His son was screaming and his wife had been attacked; Eddie wasn't going to let that lie.

"Eddie- hey, that's enough!"

"Let him burn!" Eddie's chest heaved beneath his shirt that he had been sweating through since he received (Y/n)'s phone call. His arms shook and tensed up and he fought with Hen and Bobby when they grabbed an arm each and dragged him backwards until he was level with (Y/n) who was doing her best to sit up.

They should evacuate any other people in the shop and leave him to be engulfed by the flames. He shouldn't be able to get out, he needed to sit and dwell and inhale the smoke he had started. He shouldn't get priority for anything.

"Get off," He huffed breathlessly and wrenched his arms free from their hold so he could collapse down on his knees in front of his wife.

He wasn't sure whether it was the smoke, the terror of the event or the relief of seeing his family relatively unharmed that made Eddie cry, but the tears drenched his face and he didn't bother to wipe them away.

(Y/n) curled her shaking arms around Eddie's neck and burrowed her face into his neck, hiccuping into his skin when he bound his arms around her and pulled her back into his lap. His face tucked into her hair and he closed his eyes, inhaling her scent to try and calm himself down but a storm was raging inside of him and his heart was working overtime until he was sure he was about to have a heart attack.

"Mi amor," His tone changed, became softer with a gentle edge and he nuzzled his nose into her hair so he could press multiple kisses against the side of her head.

"Eddie…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she wanted to say, but she didn't have to say anything. She moved her shaking hand up from his neck to cup his face and bring him down for a tear stained kiss. "W-where's Chris?"

"Buck's got him, he's safe. Come here,"

Moving his hands down from her waist, Eddie cupped the back of her thighs and swiftly pulled her until her pelvis bumped into his groin. He curved her legs around his hips and kissed her again while his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her thighs and he lifted her up with him. He stood up with (Y/n) clinging to his front and her lips glued to his jaw, something she knew would instantly calm him down.

He turned around and made his way over to the ambulance where he could see Buck. His friend was stood in front of the ambulance, a soft smile on his face and Christopher in his arms who was curled up into his chest, calmly biting his thumb.

Eddie carefully sat (Y/n) down on the edge of the ambulance and stood between her legs, feeling the heels of her feet pressing softly into his lower back just above his bum.

He reeled his arms back and reached out for (Y/n)'s left arm and gently squeezed her hand while he held her arm out in front of him for inspection. A light burn ran up the inside of her arm from her elbow down near her wrist, but it wasn't deep her extensive enough to need medical treatment. Cream and bandages would do just fine to make it blister and heal up in a week or so.

A small burn and a bash to the head was the best outcome Eddie could of asked for when he had fretted they would have smoke inhalation, loss of consciousness. He imagined bullet wounds, broken bones, third degree burns, the lot. Anything and everything ran through his mind when he thought about what could have happened with his family.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Eddie brushed his thumb across Chris's cheek when Buck gently sat him down on the ambulance next to (Y/n).

"Just a scrape on his knee, he'll be alright."

"Home," When Chris saw (Y/n) lean forward and bury her face into Eddie's chest, Chris pushed forward and wrapped his arm around his dad's leg. He pressed his chin into Eddie's thigh and tilted his head up so he could look up at him.

He wanted to go home now. He wanted Eddie to take them home and for this day to be over.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take you both home now."

[littledovesnow]

pretty

Request: oh hi! i'm so happy to hear that you're writing fluffy fics for coryo! i need more of this kind of content and i just read your fic and i loved it! could i request a peacekeeper!coryo fic where reader is lucy gray's best friend and she has a crush on coriolanus but gets terribly shy around him like she can't look at him in the eyes, he's just too pretty (she's just like me), lucy gray knows this and makes fun of her while trying to get them close to each other. then one day they go to the lake (just like the scene in the movie) and coryo sits by her side and she's like freaking out on the inside and he asks her if he did anything wrong or something bc he already noticed that she goes silent around him and reader starts talking very nervous about it and admits that she finds him very pretty meanwhile coryo just finds everything so extremely cute? the ending is up to u 💓 sorry if this is too long!

a/n: is this good because i don't know how to write a district!reader (don't even get me started on the Appalachia accent i am doing my ancestors DIRTY)

-----

You laughed at Maude Ivory as she flounced in the water, blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

You and the rest of the Covey had decided to spend the day at the lake, wanting to soak in the warm weather as much as you could before heading to the Hob for an evening of singing.

“You gonna sing that new song I’ve heard you working on every night?” Lucy Gray asked, turning her head to look at you, knowing smile on her face.

Flushing red, you shrugged at the brunette. “Not sure. I don’t know if it’s well and finished yet.”

Lucy Gray hummed, turning back to let the sun’s rays hit her face, eyes closed. “Sejanus said he and Coriolanus would be there tonight, and I think the song is wonderful. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to sing it in front of the muse.”

You chuckled, pulling at the grass around you. “And just how do you know who the song’s about?”

It was Lucy Gray’s turn to chuckle, sitting up and focusing her attention on you. “We’ve been best friends for ages, I can tell when you’ve got your eyes on someone.”

“I-”

“Someone who I know has some pretty strong feelings for you, too.”

Shaking your head, your gaze was deadest on the ground beneath you. “Not possible, why would someone like him take any interest in a woman like me? Don’t forget, Lucy Gray, you may have won the Hunger Games, but we’re all still district. I doubt he even sees me as a person.”

Frowning, Lucy Gray chewed on her lip. “Coriolanus doesn’t think like that. Sejanus is from District Two, and he doesn’t think less of him.”

You sighed, knowing Lucy Gray wouldn’t put this to bed unless you relented. “If I sing my little ballad tonight, will you finally stop trying to set us up?”

Lucy Gray agreed, playful smirk on her face. “Only because he’s going to love it.”

-----

Coriolanus dawdled behind his bunkmates, fiddling with his dog tags as a few handfuls of Peacekeepers made their way to the liveliest barn in all of District 12.

He smiled as he heard Maude Ivory take the stage, eyes traveling around the band to see if he could find you.

“Going to finally nerve up and ask her out tonight?” Sejanus asked, settling into the stool next to his friend.

He snapped his head towards the Plinth boy, who wore a lively smile. “What?”

Sejanus nodded his head towards where you were currently talking to Lucy Gray, both wearing colorful skirts. “Lucy Gray, I always see you watching her while she’s singing. It’s obvious, I’ve seen it since you were her Mentor.”

Coriolanus was tempted to correct his friend on the name, having had a talk with Lucy Gray after her victory, both settling on the fact that there were no real romantic feelings, instead the two had agreed to remain friends so long as Coriolanus was in the District.

“Alright, this next one’s a new number!” Lucy Gray commanded the stage like no other, introducing you. “I’ve been listening to this one while it was being written, and I have to say y’all, it’s one of my favorites!”

You took a deep breath, smile on your face as you began to strum the guitar, voice carrying to all corners of the Hob.

Coriolanus was mesmerized, eyes never leaving your figure as you crooned, face heating up as you two made eye contact, frowning as you quickly averted your gaze to another area of the room.

It was a common occurrence whenever you two had met each other’s eyes, you were often quick to look away and rarely look back in his vicinity again.

At first he wondered if his Peacekeeper uniform was the cause of it, but after seeing him in more casual clothing, you still reacted the same when he looked at you.

You finished your song, introducing Barb Azure before disappearing to the small shed that the Covey used a backstage area.

Lucy Gray gave your hand an encouraging squeeze as she passed you, walking over to her former mentor. “How’s Peacekeeping treating you?”

Coriolanus shrugged, not wanting to go into detail about his work. “Mostly just patrol and catching those damn birds.” He was still in a one-sided fight with the mockingjays and jabberjays.

“Well, we’re going to the lake tomorrow. Wanted to see if you and Sejanus would be interested in joining?”

“The lake?” Coriolanus asked, he wasn’t familiar with a lake within District 12’s limits.

Nodding, Lucy Gray looked back as she heard Barb Azure finish her song. “Just outside of the forest, meet at my place tomorrow and we can all go down together.”

Coriolanus mulled the thought over as he was once again left to his own devices, hand going back to fiddling with the dog tag on his neck.

-----

“You what?” You asked, pulling a ratty pair of shorts over the makeshift bathing suit you had on.

“I invited Coriolanus and Sejanus. They’re my friends, thought they deserved a day at the lake, too!” Lucy Gray acted innocent, though there was an evil glint in her eye.

“D’you think they’ll go swimming?” Maude Ivory asked, eyes light with the prospect of swimming.

You ignored the young girl, instead following Lucy Gray out back to gather some berries for a picnic basket. “You didn’t think to run this by everyone? They’re Peacekeepers, Lucy Gray.”

“They’re Peacekeepers because of me.” She replied, voice void of emotion. “And besides, didn’t think you’d be so against wanting to spend the day with Coriolanus.”

You wanted to reply, wanted nothing more than to scream that there was never going to be anything between you and Coriolanus, but you refrained, knowing Lucy Gray did have a point, and the two men did deserve a day away from their co-Peacekeepers.

Finishing gathering things for the basket, you felt your palms grow clammy as you heard the two men clamoring around in the house, along with Maude Ivory’s cheerful explanation about the lake and surrounding meadow.

Looking up when you heard the door close, you were greeted with the Covey, Sejanus­—who had Maude Ivory on his shoulders—and Coriolanus.

“Hi everyone.” You smiled, quickly looking away from the blonde. “To the lake, we go.”

You walked in a peaceful silence behind everyone, halfway distracted with thoughts of swimming and sunbathing, the crisp and warm air perfect. You watched as Lucy Gray walked alongside Coriolanus, the two seemingly teasing each other as they chatted, laughter flowing freely.

-----

Having spent a short while in the water, you were now sitting along the shore, a short way’s away from where Maude Ivory, Lucy Gray, Sejanus, and Tan Amber were finishing off the picnic foods.

You looked up when you felt a pair of eyes on you, blushing when you saw Coriolanus sitting down next to you, keeping a laugh in as his knee popped.

“Thought you’d want to enjoy the water and fresh air.”

“Can I ask you something?” Coriolanus asked, paying no mind to your attempt to dismiss him.

Looking away from, you squinted as the sun reflected off of the water behind him. “Already did.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You asked, genuinely wondering what he was talking about.

Coriolanus mulled over his words for a moment, not sure how to go about the conversation. “Whenever we’re in the same room, you always come up with some excuse to leave. You never look at me when you’re on stage. Have I done something wrong?”

You felt your heart grow sore at his question, he sounded helpless, hoping you would be able to explain your actions. “I- no, Coriolanus-”

“Coryo, you can call me Coryo if you want.”

Nodding, you looked at the man. “Coryo. You didn’t do anything wrong, no.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed, head tilting.

You sighed, watching a bird dive down and grab a fish out of the water before taking off again. Oh, how you wish you could fly away right now.”

“You’re different.” You said, setting down the flowers you were weaving. “A lot of the guys here look similar. Tired, faces freckled from the sun, hair permanently tinted with the coal. You- you’re pretty. Your skin free from freckles, hair clean and bright. Well, at least it looked clean on the Games.”

Coriolanus, who had a small smile on his face, spoke up once he realized you were done talking. “You think I’m pretty?”

Taking his tone as him joking, you made a move to stand. “I knew it was a mistake telling you.”

“No, no,” Coriolanus took your hand, stopping you from standing. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just, no one’s ever called me pretty before.”

You were unsure of what to say, so you shrugged lightly, chewing on your lip.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty, too. Beautiful, even.” Coriolanus replied, smile on his face growing.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Don’t let Lucy Gray hear that.”

“Why? She and I both agreed there’s no romance between us.” Coriolanus looked back at the group, seeing Lucy Gray look over at the two of you a few times, stopping to send an encouraging thumbs up.

The two of you laughed at her actions, before Coriolanus turned back to meet your eyes.

This time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you kept his gaze until he broke into a wide smile. “Would it be alright if I take you out tonight?”

“Out where? The Hob?” You joked, the list of possible date locations in District 12 were limited. “But yes, Coryo, you definitely can.”

-----

a/n: will i learn how to end a fic this year? let's wait and see! send requests in!

[radiant-reid]

i don’t want you to ever stop🫶🏻

wd you be down to possibly write a dad!spence piece where they pick up their kid from school together? i bet their kiddo wd be so stoked to see both parents after school & wanna just tell them all about their day

(bonus: if it’s not too much to ask; could their kid pls be called gus or margot in it?? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ur the best!)

I did both !! even figuratively I can’t resist giving that man children

It's never been unusual for Spencer to be away for work. In fact, Gus and Margot have known him to be away their whole lives. What is odd is Spencer being away for 15 days, much more than usual, thanks to back-to-back cases.

They only got to talk to him on the phone twice, making them miss him even more, and he was home after they went off to school this morning.

Having to leave you three has always been the worst part of his job, and after a long nap, he’s preparing snacks for his babies after school, planning for when you bring them home.

With a plan of your own, you leave work early so you can swing by home and pick him up.

He’s excited on the way there, like you imagine little Spencer was when he attended school, and he tells you all about the exhausting fortnight he’s had while you fill him in on some of the moments he’s missed at home, purposefully leaving some out for the kids to tell him.

You wait at the school gate holding hands, and Spencer thinks it’s admirable that you know so many of the moms and dads.

Gus gets out first and he always comes through the gate to find you quickly. Today, he sees Spencer first, probably thanks to his dad’s height and sprints over.

Spencer crouches down to let his little boy jump into his arms, picking him up and spinning him around. “Hey, buddy.” Spencer says, tightly hugging him.

“You’re home!” Gus cheers. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Spencer tells him. You watch them in awe, not even a little mad that you’re left holding your son’s backpack without acknowledgment.

When he pulls back, Gus looks at you, then back at Spencer as he double checks what he’s seeing. “Mom and dad?”

You nod, enjoying his excitement. “And maybe an after school treat.”

His eyes widen even more as he looks at Spencer again. “Donuts?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He says.

“Then I must be really smart because you’re really smart.” Gus giggles, always music to your ears.

Spencer chuckles with him. “I’m pretty sure that you’re the smart one. What place did you win in the science fair?”

Gus can talk forever, and he starts to about his science fair victory last week for the project he and Spencer worked hard on. It does pay to have a dad with 3 STEM PhDs.

Margot always takes longer to reach the gate, dawdling and chatting with her little friends about important 7 year old girl stuff.

When she gets there, she sees you first and then her brother before her eyes land on the man holding her brother, and her face lights up.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” She chants as she comes skipping over.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Spencer greets her, leaning down to pick her up with his other arm.

She snuggles into his side, kissing his cheek. “I missed you, daddy.”

“I missed you too, princess.” Spencer tells her. “Do you want to go get a treat? I want to hear all about your dance.”

“All of us?” She looks between you and Spencer for confirmation.

You nod. “The boys thought we could get donuts.”

Identically to Gus and Spencer’s, her eyes go wide at the mention of the food. “Yes, please. Let’s go right now because I have so much to tell you about today and dance.”

“I’ve got lots to tell as well.” Gus pipes up and you know you’re going to be spending all afternoon listening to slightly embellished truths and every detail a 5 and 7 year old deem important about their days, but there’s nowhere you’d rather be.

[dsudis]

Who wants some sleepy domestic Emhyr/Geralt?

Got a kind of bewildering ask yesterday that I won't bother answering directly as it didn't seem particularly relevant to me, but it did remind me how much I enjoyed writing Witcher fic, and that I still have some bits of Emhyr/Geralt(/Eskel) fic I was working on that I've never shared, and I am in a sharing mood today!

This is from what would have been Urbe Aureā #5, in which Emhyr begins his courtship of Eskel by offering him any witcher's favorite thing: a job in Toussaint. Geralt, naturally, goes along with him, and then they come home to the palace in Nilfgaard, mostly unscathed...

Geralt knew just what to do this time, returning to Nilfgaard in the middle of the night. He parted from Eskel with a mumbled agreement to meet again in the morning, shed his weapons and everything else he could without scandalizing any servants he met, and went directly to Emhyr's rooms. 

He reached up to run a hand over the stubble that was all the hair left on the lower part of his head now. It was two days' growth, because that was how long it had taken him, Eskel, and occasionally Lambert, to deal with every other little problem someone had brought to their attention after the wraiths were dealt with.  

He hadn't been dawdling this time--not like the days he'd spent in Tretogor chasing down stray bandits and necrophages. He just... couldn't go off and leave the place knowing there was a problem with giant centipedes popping out of somebody's vineyard, and a nasty ghost haunting somebody else's well--and then he'd had to make a few patrols to check for signs of any vampires who'd started making nuisances of themselves since he left. Those always turned up again when there had been a lot of them in one place, like seeds germinated by a forest fire. 

But now, at last, he was done and back again. He and Eskel had availed themselves of the baths B.-B. had had waiting for them after they got back from sorting out those fleders, and then they'd agreed with barely a word to head back through the portal. They'd left Lambert asleep under his workbench, knowing well that he'd be happier to bitch about them leaving without a goodbye than to actually suffer through any parting scene. 

And, after all, he knew exactly where to find them if he wanted them. 

Geralt let himself into Emhyr's rooms and hesitated, listening out for a moment, but Emhyr didn't rush out to meet him as he had that time before. Maybe he'd slept a little easier, knowing Geralt had left on Emhyr's own errand, and with backup to boot. Maybe he just didn't expect Geralt to have returned after only a few days. 

Either way, there was no point lingering in the sitting room. Geralt let himself into the bedchamber, and his heart did something painful and fond at the sight of Emhyr sleeping. He tried to ignore it, willed it away, even as he was walking over. He was at the side of the bed when he remembered: he loved Emhyr, and he knew that, and Eskel knew that, and Emhyr probably knew that, and as yet that hadn't brought about any more than the usual amount of destruction.  

He could just... feel it. He could look at Emhyr sleeping, with his head on one pillow and another tucked under his arm like he'd lost the knack of sleeping without another body to lean against, and feel like he belonged there. In Emhyr's bed, in his arms, in his life, because that was a role he could fill, a job he could do. He could be the Emperor's Witcher and like it.  

Emhyr didn't move--didn't give himself away, if the lurker in his bedchamber had been anyone less astute--but Geralt knew the moment he woke.  

"Not an assassin," Geralt said softly. "Just--" 

Emhyr pushed himself up to sit, a wash of delight turning his craggy features almost young, in the little light that reached Geralt's eyes. Mindful that Emhyr could see even less than he could in this dark, he stepped forward, holding his hands out, saving Emhyr the trouble of disentangling himself from the bedcovers.  

"My dear witcher," Emhyr murmured, catching his hands and tugging him closer still, then catching his mouth in a kiss. "Where is your partner?" 

Geralt laughed a little against Emhyr's mouth. "Not so quickly won over as that, dear majesty. But he did come back with me, safe and sound. He's in his own room, probably already asleep." 

"Excellent," Emhyr said, and he genuinely did sound pleased. And he'd asked about Eskel first thing, when he might have ignored the whole matter of him until morning, and that, too, made Geralt's heart squeeze.  

"And yourself?" Emhyr went on, his hands releasing Geralt's and sliding up his arms. "You smell clean enough, but you know I am not as keen as one of you. Any injuries? Any trouble?" 

"Not as such," Geralt said, climbing onto the edge of the bed so Emhyr could reach more of him, and taking Emhyr's hand to guide it up to the base of his skull. "Lost some hair." 

"A pity," Emhyr murmured, running warm fingers over the shorn part of Geralt's scalp before he settled his hand on the nape of Geralt's neck and tugged him into a deeper kiss.  

Geralt leaned into Emhyr's firm grip, his whole body easing, muscles relaxing that had been faintly tensed for days on end. That human-strong hold on him and Emhyr's mint-clean mouth coaxing his open meant that he was home safe, done with the job, and it was finally time to let his guard down. He let himself sway into Emhyr, trusting his weight to the solid warmth of Emhyr's body. 

Emhyr let out a little grunt, though his body betrayed no great evidence of straining under the pressure. He closed his other arm around Geralt and eased them both down, not bothering to sort out the covers or get Geralt naked--as though all that mattered was both of them here, at their ease. As though he needed nothing more than that. 

Geralt sighed, nuzzling at Emhyr's chest, and went out like a blown candle. 

[slasher-jax]

Past Your Bedtime..

Character(s): Vincent Sinclair, Reader/You

Summary: Vincent comes to bed a few hours later than he agreed to with Reader.

Warnings: canon typical violence, mention of death, mention of killing, parent-like s/o, I think that's it, if there is anything else that should be tagged here, please let me know

Gender: Gender-Neutral, m4m, m4f, m4n

A/N: I can't get the idea of Vincent slowly just walking into the shared bedroom hoping that reader is asleep after working in the basement for a few hours longer than agreed and Reader just cuts the light on while sitting on the bed like a parent catching their child sneaking back in after sneaking out to a party. I hope you enjoy reading this drabble just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I might turn this into a whole fic, just not right now.

Masterlist

Vincent walked slowly, dawdling down the hallway to his and y/n's room, silently praying to whatever God would listen that they were asleep. He had, unknowingly, stayed up three hours past eleven, the time he had agreed to come to bed at. He knew that they would be extremely upset with him, if they knew that was.

His soft footsteps came to a stop as he carefully slid their door open, it emitting a shrill squeal of pain as the hinges sqeaked against each other. He grimaced at the loud noise before carefully pitted-pattering his way in and closing the door behind him, the door letting out less noise as it was pushed back into the doorway. He let out a sigh of relief as the door shut quietly before he felt eyes watching his back. Just as he turned around, the lamp beside their bed flicked on, y/n sitting on their side of the bed with their arms crossed over their chest.

"Wanna tell me why you're here so late?" They asked, swinging their legs over the bed to be able to stand. As they stood their arms stayed wrapped around their chest, their body language and facial expression showing they they were more worried and disappointed rather than angry.

Well, I got busy and lost track of time. Vincent signed, I'm sorry. He signed quickly after.

Y/n sighed, knowing they couldn't stay mad at him forever. "Its alright, just please start being more careful, I worry about you." They said, grabbing him by his arm and leading him towards the bed, pulling back the blanket as he slipped his sweater and mask off, placing his mask on his side-table, and sliding into bed, covering himself and his parter with the blanket before pulling them closer.

I will, He signed quickly after climbing in bed.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the soft drizzle of rain and each other's breathing. "Good night, I love you." Y/n said, rolling over in his arms to give him a kiss before rolling back over, the rustling of sheets being heard as they push back further into him, his skin being like a furnace to their cool skin.

He gently place a soft kiss on their temple, his way of saying goodnight before the rough, unspoken with, raspy voice of his began speaking, "Love.. you.. too." He smiled after, seeing the small smile that graced its way onto his partners beautiful face.

The only other place this can be found is my wattpad slasher-jax if found anywhere else alert me and report it. All rights reserved, I do not allow for my work to be posted elsewhere unless given permission by me. If you want to write this idea in your own image, go ahead, but if you want to you can credit me, I would like to see your ideas. You can reblog if you would like as well, just do not copy and paste my work and call it your own.

[letsquestjess]

Hello 🤎

If you’re still looking for some requests, I have an idea for a fic where the reader gets in between Crosshair and Hunter when they are first bickering when Crosshair rejoins the group, defending Cross (who she of course has been in love with from day one but never said anything) and he is completely taken aback by her willingness to protect him.

And fluff and confessions and love ensue?

Thank you 🤎

Hi there! Thank you for the request 💜

I love this idea so much! There was probably a lot of tension on The Marauder on that flight back to Pabu 😅

In the Middle (Crosshair x GN/F!Reader)

Summary: Tensions run high after Crosshair returns, and after listening to enough bickering, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Word count: 2K (yep, this one ran away with me)

Warnings: Bit of angst.

A/N: While this request was made with a female reader in mind, it's gender neutral like most of my SFW xReader fics.

-- -- -- -- --

With each pocket of turbulence, The Marauder shuddered and rattled. The latches on the cupboards struggled to withhold the avalanche of items, threatening to scatter them across the floor, while the unused hazard chairs juddered.  

“Those should have been secured before we set off,” Hunter grumbled from the co-pilot seat. 

“We’ll be through the worst of it in a minute,” you promised, manoeuvring your fingers over the buttons and pulling a lever. Slowly but surely, you handled the ship, making precise adjustments to the engine and applying incremental pressure to the thrusters, guiding it through the dense pocket and emerging unscathed. “There we go. May get a bit of rattling, but it shouldn’t be as bad now.” 

As soon as the shaking subsided, Hunter sprung out of his seat and got to work tightening the loose brackets on the hazard seats. Ever since picking up Omega and Crosshair, he’d been on edge, monitoring his sister’s every move and occupying himself with mundane, self-imposed duties. 

You turned in time to catch the intense glare Hunter shot at Crosshair when the sniper tried to assist him. You offered Crosshair a reassuring smile, but he flinched away, his tired eyes overflowing with a wariness that had become all too common since he returned. He’d taken to dawdling around the bunks at the rear of the ship or concealing himself in secluded spots while Wrecker and Hunter doted on Omega, making himself as small as possible and ensuring he wouldn’t be a nuisance. Not that he ever could be, not in your mind.  

In order to avoid detection by Imperials, you had all unanimously decided to forgo the hyperspace lanes and opted for a longer route to Pabu. At first, you thought nothing of it, the plan seemed perfectly reasonable, but the suffocating atmosphere on the ship soon amplified the palpable tension between them. 

The communications unit emitted a shrill beep, and before you had the chance to even think about responding, Hunter crossed into the cockpit and leafed through the message.

“What is it?” Omega asked, peeking into the front cabin. 

“It’s from Echo,” Hunter replied. “He’s planning to visit soon so he can welcome back our happy arrival.” The smile faded and his jaw stiffened the second his eyes rose to meet Crosshair’s as he wandered to the cockpit door.

“If you have something on your chest, Hunter, spit it out,” Crosshair told him, exhaustion tingeing his tone. “Ever since I got here, you haven’t stopped glaring at me, so just say what you want.”

You exchanged a glance with Omega, silently conveying your shared hope that Hunter wouldn’t. You saw enough hurt in Crosshair as it was. 

The moment you had laid eyes on him disembarking the Imperial shuttle and crossing over the pools of light to The Marauder, the affection you’d harboured for him since being assigned to Clone Force 99 during the war resurfaced. For a reunion you hoped would hold so much promise and joy, the atmosphere quickly soured as Hunter stood in the way, protecting Omega and preventing Crosshair from boarding the ship. 

If it weren’t for the young clone’s persistence and yourself and Wrecker coaxing him round, he most likely would have abandoned him. Since then, you’d spent the past few days contemplating what you would have done in that situation, but a small voice inside insisted you would have gone with Crosshair. Fortunately, you hadn’t been forced to make that tough decision, but now you found yourself dealing with backhanded remarks and agitated glares, and your patience wore thin. 

As they started bickering again, you positioned yourself between them. “Will you both stop it?” you demanded. “Haven’t we all been through enough? You are brothers.” Instead of allowing Hunter to continue his argument, you interrupted him by slamming your hand on the controls. The door whizzed shut, confining you both in the cockpit. 

“You have got to drop this suspicion of him, Hunter,” you all but begged. “I understand you’re on edge and this has been overwhelming, but we have no idea what he endured on Tantiss. Based on what Omega has shared, that place is a nightmare for anyone who opposes the Empire, so please quit looking at him like he’s a potential threat.”

You could see the gears revolving in his head as he processed your words, his resistance crumbling. Every time he clenched his fists or snapped at the slightest question, you had felt the urge to intervene. His actions were only aggravating the situation, particularly for Omega and Crosshair, but the months of stress were taking their toll in leaving his system, and the last thing you wanted was to make the tension worse. 

There was an absence of culpability in your words, and even if he’d tried, he couldn’t condemn you for confronting him in such a way. The days had passed by uneasily to say the least, and he’d done nothing to help matters. He was scared. Fearing failing Omega again, he also grappled to acknowledge his abandonment of Crosshair, and anticipated a reckoning. If his brother did hold him partly responsible for his suffering, he wouldn’t blame him. So often he scolded himself for accepting that he was a lost cause instead of putting up a stronger fight for him. And he had come to terms with the fact that he had played a role in everything you’d all suffered since. 

“They both need calm to recover,” you said softly. “Can you not see how your brother is hurting?” 

Hunter couldn’t have felt worse than he did in that moment, but he remained quiet. He knew you weren’t doing this to guilt him, but to jolt him out of the terrified haze that was making him lash out at his family, that was driving a wedge between them when they should be reuniting in solidarity. So he listened. 

Weary and with pleading eyes, you perched yourself on the arm of the co-pilot chair and gazed at the squad’s leader. “Whatever happened to Cross, it has left him visibly shaken, and for something to shake a man as sturdy as him… I dread to think of the horrors he went through.” A lump snagged in your throat but you breathed it down. “Ease up on him. That’s all I ask.” 

Outside the cockpit, Crosshair’s fingertips dug into the rigid metal of the door as he leaned a little closer, ears trained on the noise within and disregarding the ongoing conversation between Wrecker and Omega at the navigation console. Your determined protection of him stirred up his guilt, and he listened enraptured by your ability to hold Hunter accountable without losing sight of the underlying complexities of the situation. In truth, he hadn’t anticipated such a strong defence from you, and his chest fluttered. 

Prior to the end of the war and the fateful order, he had nearly confessed everything to you, poured out his feelings just to be free of them. It hadn’t mattered to him whether you reciprocated them or not. He merely wanted you to know so that he no longer had to bear that uncertainty. If he had to hurt, he preferred to rip off the plaster fast and move on as best he could. 

But the way you smiled around him when nobody else did, the easy flow of your conversations, the lingering touches that ignited a comforting warmth made him wonder if you shared his affections. You hadn’t treated the others in that manner, and it sent his mind spiralling.  

The situation had changed now, though. You survived with the Empire on your tail, with the daunting task of evading him while he hunted you without mercy or relent. Handled dangerous missions and daring ventures solely to provide for and protect his brothers. There was no assurance that the feelings you may have once held for him remained.  

Alerted by the sound of steps nearing the door, he retreated and pretended to secure the cupboards after the earlier jolts and jostles. Thankfully, you took no notice of his sudden movement, but he didn’t miss the glimmer of a smile you directed at him, a comforting reassurance and a gesture of hope that everything would work out in time. 

With meticulous care, you finished cleaning the brunt of your blaster and slipped each piece back together with a satisfying click. As you worked with the rotary system, you encountered some difficulties and resorted to using the slim brushes to sweep each cleft in the cylinder. The pungent smell of oil clogged your nostrils, and with a brief wince, you sealed the container.

Lost in your task, you picked up on a set of footsteps drawing near but remained immersed in the intricate inner workings of your weapon. 

“Sorry,” Crosshair mumbled once he spotted you sat on your bunk. “I can go. I don’t want to interrupt you.” 

Your gaze shot up, locking onto his with a silent plea to stay. The confidence he exuded during the war had vanished, leaving him second guessing every action he took, and it pained you to witness how the Empire had savagely chipped away at him. “It’s okay,” you assured him. “I actually wouldn’t mind the company.”

With a sense of comfort from your soft admission, he wandered over to the upper bunk and reclined until his hip met the rail, scanning the weathered hull as though he was still trying to grasp where he was. “I apologise if the atmosphere hasn’t exactly been pleasant,” he said, massaging the palm of his right hand with his thumb as a tremor coursed up his wrist. 

“I’m just glad you’re back,” you said in a relieved breath. You finished reassembling your blaster and fastened it into the holster hanging over your bed. Shifting the tray of tools onto the bedsheets, you rose from the mattress. “Hunter will come round. Give him time.” 

“I missed that bright optimism,” Crosshair admitted. 

The shakes in his hand spread and he hunched his shoulders. Sensing the shame in the action, you gently enclosed him in your arms, waiting for any discomfort before squeezing him. 

“I wish I could repair the rift between you and Hunter,” you muttered, resting your temple against his as you held him. “Fixing the most complicated of ships is a breeze compared to working with you two and your stubborn natures.” 

Through a thin haze of tears, Crosshair clung onto you tighter, breathing you in and relishing your tender inclination. When you pulled away, his hand quivered as he reached out to wipe the lone teardrop that had trailed a path down your cheek. 

“But if I can help you both through this, then I will,” you told him. “Whatever it takes.” 

Struck by your compassionate, resolute statement, Crosshair pressed his forehead to yours, his heart skipping when you met him halfway. All he wanted to do was hold you close and never let go. “This is nothing compared to the arguments we had as cadets.”

“More than one bloodied nose, wasn’t it?” 

“Uh-huh.”

You both shared a grin as he cupped your cheeks and nestled into you. “I overheard what you said to Hunter,” he confessed. 

“I meant every word,” you whispered, settling your hands on his chest. “Cross, I can see you hurting and I want to be here for you.”

At the slight crack in your voice, Crosshair dropped his focus to your mouth before returning to your watery eyes. You answered his silent question with a nod, and he wasted no time in sealing his lips to yours. As he melted into the kiss, he dried your fallen tears with the pads of his thumbs, moving in tandem with you until your back hit the wall and his arms protectively encompassed you.

“Your willingness to stand up for others is one of the things that drew me to you,” he said, pulling away, breathless. Another sweet peck landed on your lips, feather light and full of promise. “I never should have left.” 

You hushed him with a slow shake of your head. “You’re home,” you reminded him. “That’s all that matters now.”

[theheartofthestar]

Prompt 20 - Florist AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 20th - 837 words

Remus looks up when he hears the door bell chime. It's a slow Tuesday, so he's just been sitting behind the counter catching up on some reading. The four men carry themselves as if they are still school boys, pushing each other and talking above one another, but by their looks Remus can tell they must be around his own age.

One of the men is finally pushed forward, all long, silky black curls framing a handsome face. Sharp nose above a perfect bow of pale lips. Remus eyes trace the man's face up to his eyes, the most beautiful set of grey eyes, unnerving yet appealing. The man clears his throat and Remus lifts his eyebrows, hoping to mask the attraction he feels behind what he hopes comes off as justified annoyance at four grown men acting like boys in a tiny flower shop on a Tuesday afternoon.

"Hi, uhm, you're handsome" the man says, and Remus smirks even through he knows his face is coloring. The other three snort.

"Subtle, Sirius, very subtle" the man with face piercings laughs.

"I mean, have you got, uhm-" Sirius pauses, as if they had walked in without a clear plan on what exactly they wanted to buy from a flower shop. "-flowers?"

"Oh my god"

"Pads!"

"Zero rizz, I swear"

"Yeah, we've got flowers" Remus feels his heart doing acrobatics on his chest. "What type are you looking for?"

"Uhm, eh, I don't know, maybe something like that?" Sirius scrambles to find something around the shop that might look like something that's ready to be sold. He ends up pointing at the flower crowns Remus made this morning, now sitting on a shelf and waiting to be delivered tomorrow morning.

"Flower crowns." Remus says, to confirm. Never mind he feels he'll probably melt if he sees this gorgeous being in a flower crown of all things.

"Yes" Sirius looks awkward, but Remus catches the very clear way his smile also carries a certain flirt. And they say the love of your life will never knock on your door.

"Oh, those are commissioned, they aren't for sale. But how about-" Remus tries to think of a way to keep them in the shop a bit longer. Maybe he'll get lucky and manage to get a phone number. "-how about I teach you how to make them? You pay for the flowers, and I'll just show you how to wave them"

It's a silly idea, but one that Lily has been pestering him about ever since they went together to that sip-and-paint some weeks ago. The dark skinned man immediately perks up.

"Like a workshop?" He says excitedly, and the man who looks just like Sirius groans. Remus thinks maybe they are brothers. "I love workshops! Yes, absolutely! Where do we sit?"

And so starts an afternoon Remus didn't plan on having, stealing glances and sharing small smiles with this handsome angel that happened to walk into his shop. Remus learns their names, listens to their friendly bickering and tries to keep his blush and his breathing under control when Sirius' calf presses against his under the table.

When they are done, the four of them wear their flower crowns proudly. The flowers in James' crown have lost half their petals, rough hands as his are. Barty refused to remove the thorns from his rose's stems, and Remus wonders idly what's up with that. Regulus' crown is by far the prettiest, and blushes brightly when James says as much. But it is Sirius' crown that looks the loveliest, because the loveliest pair of hands wove it.

The group dawdles by the door for a bit before they go, and James very obviously gives Sirius a shove towards the counter behind which Remus is trying to keep his hands busy to avoid staring at the most beautiful being he's ever laid eyes upon. But Sirius says nothing, just smiles a bit awkwardly and so Remus says nothing, just blushes and crinkles his eyes. The friends clearly feel some help is needed, because James comes forward and slings an arm around Sirius' shoulders

"So how long do these last, Remus?" James says, vaguely pointing at his and Sirius' flower crowns. Remus has to clear his throat before answering.

"About four days, I would say-" whatever he was going to continue with is interrupted by James.

"Great! So you can expect Pads here to come by to pick up another one." James pats Sirius on his chest as he says so.

"I can?

"Prongs-"

"Same time next week? Yes? Awesome, he'll bring some coffee too. It's a date, tá!" And with that, James drags a mortified looking Sirius and his other two very amused friends out of the store. Before they slide out of sight, Sirius catches his eye and smiles.

Remus smiles looking at the flower crown in his hands. Next Tuesday can't come fast enough.

(you can read more of my work here)