#he’s consistently bothering me by taking my things. screaming in my ears

[cuntycassandra]

Do you ever look at your siblings and think “how were we raised by the same people”

[caspersickfanfics]

hi (Aery here ... which is starting to sound more and more like zuko's dorky intro from atla but uhh- wow I'm off topic anyway)

You reblogging that art reminded me how absolutely feral I am for the concept and I felt the need to drop in with that information because!!!! like!!!

vulnerable cyno, irritated tighnari- and like it's so in character for nari to React that way (and they both know it. this is the guy that lectures random strangers about preparedness and stupid mistakes and where Exactly do you think you're going does that Look like the road to Sumeru-) but Cyno being in Just the right spot to take it Very Badly is just perfect???

bc like. ofc he knows, he's heard it all before (from Nari no less) but it hits Different sometimes.

im probably screaming in circles at this point but I just- really love the concept so much.

(I'm bad at remembering to send asks but please understand many of your works & concepts live rent free in my brain.)

Aghhhh RIGHT!!! Tighnari is officially The Lecture Guy lmao. Cyno is more than aware of this and honestly I imagine that sometimes Nari's consistency in that way can be comforting, but every once in while, when his head isn't in the right place, he starts to worry that he's actually crossed a line, that he's really messed up. It's times when he's worn down and unable to pick up on the nuances of Tighnari's communication. If he was actually mad, Tighnari wouldn't bother lecturing; he'd go completely silent. If he was actually mad, his ears would be pinned back on his head, not twitching, which could indicate anything from irritation to amusement. If he wasn't happy to see Cyno, he wouldn't invite him into his home at all. But sometimes Cyno just doesn't pick up on any of that.

I've also been playing with the idea of Cyno experiencing trauma-induced/dissociative age-regression which would work really well with this concept but. That's a whole other thing...

(sjkfsdfl thank you that makes me so happyyyy <333)

[terresdebrume]

#14, Joe Liebgott ship of your choice <3

Prompts from the "Things you said" prompt list, with 14 being "When I wasn't meant to hear." Send me a number and a character/pairing if you want to see more writing! :D

Thanks for the request! I feel like it took me forever to answer, but in my defense I was at work and also this thing turned out to be 2.5k long :P No particular warning except for the mention of past suicidal thinking towards the end-ish. Also, this is Webgott, because I'm nothing if not consistent (in shipping choices, anyway).

____

Joe looks up from the cutting board, sniffing against the sting of his onions, and glances idly at the kitchen clock, then frowns when he sees the time. Mrs. Obradovic called David out on the phone almost half an hour ago, saying something about an old friend on the line. Joe assumed it would be Chuck or Christenson, asking David round for a night out on the weekend like they do sometimes, but you don’t pay for half an hour on the line to shoot the crap with a guy you see once a month.

As for the others, well. David wasn’t popular with Easy, and Guarnere is the only one who ever bothers calling, usually to let David know to expect his invitation to the next reunion soon. No way Guarnere has that much to say to David though, especially not on a long-distance call. Curiosity piqued, Joe sets his knife down and abandons his half-chopped onion on the cutting board. He wipes his hands on the apron David got him last Hannukah, with the edges fraying where Joe tore off the lacy frills, and quietly makes his way out of the apartment.

They live on the second floor, under the roof. It’s not a bad spot. Too hot in the summer and too damn cold in the winter, for sure…but it’s also soundproofed from when the rest of the building belonged to a single family who didn’t like to remember they had maids and whatnot living up there. Painfully snob, yes, but it does allow Joe to fuck David until he screams without worrying about being overheard, among other things. Pretty good deal, if you ask him. He makes his way downstairs, inhaling the scent of curry behind the downstairs neighbors’ door, and is stepping on the first landing when he hears David’s laughter.

“Well,” David says, sarcastic, “aren’t you just hilarious today.”

Yeah, this is definitely no one from Easy. If he used that tone with any of them, they’d stop calling, and fast. Chuck and Christenson’s connection to David is already more geographical than anything else, Joe doesn’t think they’d take well to being spoken to with that kind of lazy arrogance. Hell, he’s a floor up and not involved, and it’s already grating on his nerves. He’s stepping down on the stairs, ready to go and pull faces at David for speaking like the snotty Harvard upstart he used to be, but then David sighs and says: ‘Of course I do’ in a tired tone that makes Joe pause. Then, before Joe can make his mind up on taking the next step, David adds:

“Who wouldn’t miss space and functional heating?”

Joe’s entire body goes rigid. Downstairs, David is slumping against the wall, one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other fiddles with the cord. He seems. Normal. Casual. Like there’s nothing wrong with him chuckling and saying:

“Mmh. I haven’t had lobster in ages.” There is a pause filled with the light whistle that hasn’t left Joe’s ears since the war. “Definitely. And wine. I haven’t had a really good wine in years.” Another pause, and Joe watches David shake his head. “They’d never take me back.”

Something gives Joe’s gut a violent squeeze, like an icy fist around his bowels. He feels the blood climb into his cheeks, the burn against the back of his neck. in his palms, his nails sting. In the hallway, David’s head tips back, to the ceiling in an open-mouthed, beseeching look. It’s a bad angle, from where Joe is, but there’s no mistaking the sudden tension in David’s shoulders, the way he shifts until both of his feet rest on the ground.

Seething, Joe turns around and thunders back upstairs, slamming the front door closed on the way to the kitchen. The ingredients of his mother’s potatoes and leek soup recipe glare at him from the cutting board. Potatoes, leeks, onions, all grown on the damn roof nobody else uses, because Joe figured it’d be good to have something to lean on in case they hit a rough spot at work. Didn’t even consider planting some vine up there, schmuck that he is. Joe strides to the counter in two quick steps, because that’s all it takes in the tiny unit, and picks the onion back up. He peels it with prejudice, and attacks it with his knife as soon as he’s done, barely registering when David’s slippers click through the hallway and into the kitchen.

Though, of course, the situation can’t hold for long.

“What’s going on?” David asks, and Joe stays silent. David sighs. “Joe. What’s going on.”

“Nothing,” Joe mutters.

He’s not surprised when all that gets him is a click of the tongue and David stepping closer. Damn kid is oblivious at the best of times and rarely inclined to use that big brain of his for common sense, but, well. They have been fucking since Lansberg. Five years is a long time to spend in and out of a guy’s bed without figuring out some of his lies. Even so, Joe doesn’t look up from where he’s making the most finely chopped onion of his life.

“Look, I know I said I’d handle dinner—”

If Joe were honest, he’d admit he’d completely forgotten about that. David’s dinners usually consist of sandwiches and cold cuts anyway, so the benefits of leaving that up to him rarely outweigh the costs. But Joe is not always an honest man, and so he says:

“Don’t sweat it.” Then, when it feels like David is relaxing by his side, he adds: “It’s hardly a loss anyway.”

David draws a breath in, sharp and short as his body recoils. Joe keeps his eyes on his hands, ignoring the sting as he reaches for another onion over the countertop and begins peeling it.

“You said you liked my sandwiches,” David says, something confused in his tone, and it’s such an inane response, Joe finds himself looking up to glare at him.

“They’re fucking sandwiches, Web, not some kind of hot cuisine or whatever the fuck you thought you were doing with it.” David’s eyes go from bovinely confused to shining with hurt, the slant of his eyebrows matching the line of his mouth as it falls open. Then his jaw sets, like it always does, he’s glaring right back at Joe:

“You know what? Fuck this. If you wanted fancy dishes all you had to do was teach me to cook something.”

“I don’t give a shit about fancy dishes,” Joe shouts back, acutely aware that’s the heart of their current problem. “I’m fine with normal food.”

“Wha—how the fuck am I not okay with normal food?” David exclaims, voice pitched higher than normal. “I’ve never complained about your cooking, have I?”

“Well,” Joe says, as snide as he knows how to be, “Maybe you should have. Maybe we should both have complained more. Save ourselves some regrets.”

“Regrets?”

David’s face changes again. From the flushed tone of his temper, it falls into the stoniness of all their true arguments. It’s a cold, impassible face, and if Joe weren’t so fucking pissed every time he sees it he’d maybe take the time to envy it. There’s nothing to read on a face like that, not even when you’ve spent the past five years in and out of a guy’s bed, brushing your teeth over the same tiny sinks in the mornings. It’s the kind of face that could hide anything. Does, too, apparently.

“What regrets are you having, then, Joe?” David asks with the voice of a stranger.

“Not my regrets,” Joe corrects, mouth filling with the bitterness of the words. “I’m fine with what I got.” Then, because the chill hasn’t left his guts and it needs something to get out, Joe hisses: “I have enough space.”

David’s face doesn’t change, but Joe sees it anyway: the line. It’s in the way his shoulders stiffen, the way he straightens up. Joe could stop at that line. Could step away from it and let them go back to their evening. But the fist hasn’t left—presses harder on his insides, on his throat, behind his eyes, and so Joe ignores the warnings and says:

“I don’t give a shit about fancy wine.”

Joe can see David’s jaw working at that, eyes fleeing Joe’s to roam around the room. He’s cottoned on, then. Joe braces for the next step: the narrowing of David’s eyes, the flush climbing up his throat. He leans into Joe’s space to hiss:

“You’re being fucking unfair. And you know it.”

“Unfair? It’s not fucking unfair, Web, it’s honest.”

David’s got nothing to complain about here. He’s not the one who’s been busting his ass for nothing for the past five years. Joe fucking found the space, didn’t he? Painted it, furnished it, arranged it so David would have a fucking space to put his bags down once he finished his precious little degree. Kept it up, too: Joe’s the reason they haven’t have to resort to living in filth. And yet, because it’s not the fucking Fairmont—

“It’s not fucking honest,” David hisses again, arms rigid by his side. “You know I like good things. This isn’t a secret; you make fun of me for it at least three times a week.”

Joe glares at David as he speaks, blood beating hard at his temples. The ice in his stomach spreads out, up and down through his ribcage, his armpits, his spine. He clenches his fists again, but no warmth remains there. He is frozen in place, watching as David says:

“I won’t apologize for it. I won’t. I won’t.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” Joe spits out. “Since things clearly aren’t working for you here, what now? Back to New York to beg?”

David’s entire body sags. His shoulders round up, his shirt creasing with the change of posture. Joe, eyes glued onto David’s, is vaguely aware of David’s hands seeking refuge in his pockets. The ice in his chest climbs up, warming, until it boils over the apple of his cheeks and the back of his neck. Still, he stays silent. Watches as David takes an open-mouthed breath, then sighs.

“They’d never take me back,” he says, but this time instead of the flippant thing he’d said on the phone, it comes out quiet and defeated.

It must have been someone from there, Joe realizes too late. Someone calling this other guy named Kenyon to convince him to abandon some kind of lark and come back home. No one in Easy ever really cared to know anything about David beyond his arrogant pride in his Harvard days. Even Joe didn’t ask about it until after the war was over, and getting to know David didn’t feel like volunteering for more scars when he inevitably dropped.

“Exactly,” Joe says, reining in the tension in his voice as best as he can, “so forget about them.”

David scoffs, then turns away from Joe, head leaning back again. Joe listens to the way he breathes in deep, watches the rise and fall of his shoulders. Hears the roughness of his throat when he says:

“You’re not being fucking fair.” Joe hates how quiet he sounds. “You still have your family. I’ve got nothing.”

“You don’t have nothing,” Joe retorts immediately, and flinches when David snorts.

“And what if you get tired of this?” He asks, twisting his head until he can glare at Joe with one withering eye, the apple of his cheek glinting in the slice of afternoon sun that makes it through the kitchen. “What do I have, if I don’t have you?”

David turns away again, breathing in deep. For a moment, Joe watches him. What does David have, outside of him? He’s been here two years. His things are all over the apartment. Joe’s family has almost never set foot in it, and never without warning. And Joe, who is cruelly aware of the ocean that exists between knowing something in the abstract and knowing it for real, is very good at tidying David’s things away. He. Didn’t mean to come to…that. It’s just.

Joe got lucky. More than lucky: he got granted a miracle. He told his Ma about the way he looks at men when he was at his lowest, as a last ditch effort to severe the only tenuous link he still had to sanity and the outside world. Thought that, with that done, he’d finally have the fucking guts to end it all. Instead, he finished explaining and found himself engulfed in his Ma’s arms, head pillowed on her bosom like it had when he was a short and skinny kid, and the sound of her voice in his ears saying ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ until he had no choice but to believe it. But even so. What if.

Funny, how Joe never really bothered with those two words, before the war. Oh, he’d had plenty awareness of the consequences of his actions. If this, then that. Simple. But ever since Tipper stepped out of that house in Carentan, it’s been what if. What if it were me, what if I’d gotten there sooner, what if Web gets bored, what if Ma changes her mind. What if. And now, here David is, with the same two words stuck in his hands like shrapnel.

Joe looks at him. At the breadth of his back, and the way his shoulders stopped heaving. At the hair that’s starting to get too long at his nape, and the slippers he never fucking puts back on the shoe rack. At the blotchy flush of his nape, and the spot of skin behind his ears that is Joe’s favorite place in the entire world. Joe looks at David, knows the same things he knew yesterday, and the same he will tomorrow. He swallows, and makes himself say:

“You’re never gonna have nothing.”

David’s laughter at that leans a little too close to hysterical. Then, in something that’s almost a whimper, he says: “Joe.”

Joe steps up behind him, lacing his arms around his waist. He feels David’s hands come down and rest on his wrists, as light as a bird waiting to take flight. Then, he raises his nose just enough for it to rest on the spot behind David’s right ear, the one that smells of sweat, aftershave and the occasional dab of pomade. He squeezes David’s waist, just once, his heart pounding.

“You’re not gonna have nothing.”

The birds of David’s hands land more firmly on his wrists, anchoring themselves there as David leans back into Joe’s chest. They stay there for a long time, Joe alternating between nuzzling at David’s neck and placing kisses there, until David’s stomach growls and they’re both hungry enough that they end up eating sandwiches and cold cuts after all.

And the next morning, before David wakes up, Joe calls in sick from work, and drives to his Ma’s house to invite her over for Shabbat.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Riddlers with a s/o who really likes horror movies, old ones, news one, everything in between long as it's horror? Need to know who's ear I can talk off

"Riddlers and Horror Movies" Riddler party x Reader

Several of these riddlers share direct horror movie quirks with me have fun guessing which. Also listed favorite horror film(s).

TW: horror films, blood and gore descriptions, mentions of emotional self-harm

Gotham

He's the guy who is going to contradict and tell you every medical inaccuracy of the deaths and mechanics in the movies. Yes, of course there's suspension of disbelief but at some point things are just wrong.

Babe, that should be arterial blood but they're portraying venous blood consistency :(

If you don't mind him talking at length about how these things would actually go OR conversely how well the sfx portrayed real injuries, he is your horror movie buddy! None of it bothers him considering how many real life murder, suicide and accident victims he's had to perform autopsies on.

Cuddling with his gangly legs on the couch bundled up in a big blanket with you while the sounds of screams echo from the tv and fill the room. Huge smile. He especially old classics when you're in the mood. Black and white films and transatlantic accents... It sounds like a great night to him.

Favorite Horror Movies: Might be a surprise but he really loves "Freaks" from 1932. He will talk for a long time about how, even though many of the disabled actors were ostracized on set, the fact that they were present at all is significant. The ableist assholes get theirs in the end! He also has a lot of fondness for "Re-animator."

Btas

He's the one interested in the sfx rambles. What, you think he designed a video game and labyrinth for a theme park just because he's intelligent? He likes behind the scenes work. God help everyone if he and Scarecrow decided to get together to make a haunted house.

You ever see those huge animatronics in horror mazes, especially the huge end show pieces? That's where his interest goes.

Depending on how much you watch and express interest in that kind of thing, he genuinely might start making horror animatronics and programs. He has the know-how! His would be the realistic looking ones, especially for animals. Spooky but definitely based in forms you see in real life.

Well, beautiful, you might have helped him find a very profitable side gig. Everyone else might be sore at you for a while, though, given Edward scaring the fuck out of them with holograms and mechanics. Plus more team-ups with Scarecrow.

All this because you wanted to watch horror movies with him. His darling <3

Favorite horror movie: "The Thing" (1982) and while it's not his absolute favorite, he ends up enjoying "Willy's Wonderland" a lot for both the animatronics and video game nods.

60s

The old ones with little to no gore is fine! More modern hack and slashers might be a little too spooky for him :( definitely never show him "Hostel" or anything in that vein.

Truthfully, it's not the violence or the blood, he's seen that. It's the suffering that gets him. It all seems so pointless and needless. At least when he's attempting to cut batman into tiny pieces using a comically giant fan, there's a goal or point. In his mind, anyways.

Before dating you his idea of horror was "Dracula", "Frankenstein"... "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken".... Start with horror that has a more comedic or cheesy element- "Little Shop of Horrors" to "Tucker & Dale vs. Evil." "Creepshow" 1 and 2 from the 80s! If you ease him into it and don't go too extreme, he'll love watching horror movies with you.

Favorite Horror Movie: OKAY THIS IS CHEATING BECAUSE IT'S NOT A MOVIE BUT. He'd be a HUGE fan of the "Tales from the Crypt" show from the early 90s (that is almost impossible to find streaming rip my horror uncle The Cryptkeeper). Horror plus puns. He will always take a funny, morbid pun! Plus... man can appreciate a cackle. He also has several opinions about the original "Suspiria."

Zero Year

It has to have something of a decent story or he's not paying attention. Where is the BACKGROUND? Sidenote: if you get him into something like Bloodborne (I know, not a movie) with lots of lore, expect to not see him for a hot minute as he consumes all the information he can like a sponge.

He tends to favor psychological horror- Although, if it means spending time with you and gaining favor, he would watch most anything. Especially if there's the possibility of close physical affection... ANYWAYS. He's also the one who wants to watch a bunch of foreign language film horror such as "Les yeux sans visage" in original French.

Another thing is that he will watch things over and over and over again with you if you want. Part of it is the undiagnosed neurodivergency. Part of it is because you always catch new details when you watch things again. Him noticing something that you didn't and him getting to tell you and impressing you is a special kind of high. He will talk about movies for hours afterwards. "Jacob's Ladder" has been a several hours long dissection MULTIPLE TIMES.

Favorite Horror Movies: "Angel Heart" is his top all time favorite. If you haven't seen it, he will practically tie you up to watch it together- He also really enjoyed "The Lighthouse" and "Us."

Arkham

Similar to BTAS, he is also interested in the animatronics. His, however, would lean to body horror and sci-fi. Something about biology and machine blending together... it gets him kind of excited.

He will sit and work while watching you play something like Deadspace (sorry, a game again) for HOURS. Then he wants to watch the prequel movie with you. Also if you don't mind subtitles, he has this recommendation for "Tetsuo: The Iron Man" if you haven't seen it already. And if you haven't... You are in for an experience.

In short, this man is about the body horror. He likes other horror too, but that's his bread and butter. Sci-fi horror as well. Bonus when there is overlap. He's seen "Annihilation" at least twenty times and has the books dog-eared and rough from multiple reads somewhere in his belongings. Yes, they are ultimately different, but he's in love with the concept enough that to him he appreciates both.

He is going to scare you with animatronics he makes. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes not. Have fun with that.

Favorite horror movies: Cronenberg period but he has a special fondness for "Videodrome" and "The Fly" (1986).

Telltale

Despite it being an excellent movie, he despises "Jacob's Ladder." It brings up too many unpleasant thoughts. Movies, especially horror, with medical experimentation are a trigger though he'll never say it out loud. You find this out as you discuss watching certain movies and see the connection between all of them.

That being said, the horror movies he likes have two themes: they have meaning/ a message or they involve transformation. The first is because anything too simple bores him. The second is totally absolutely NOT because of projection of his own trauma.

Show him "Get Out" and "Nope" and he gains a deep reverence for Jordan Peele as a writer and director. Intelligent, entertaining, and the perfect amount of horror mixed in. Kind of a fan, only you know, really.

80s version of "The Fly" makes him emotional and you probably only watch it once with him. He likes it a lot! Just... the slow transformation via a science accident is very relatable. Madness overtaking you.

Favorite horror movies: "An American Werewolf In London" it's a classic. Not to mention in his opinion one of the best transformation scenes in a movie.

2022/nashton

Ha... so here's the thing. He likes "Hostel" and movies like that with lots of violence and gore. He's even seen "Wolf Creek" and got some real excitement out of it. HOWEVER. Movies in that vein are a form of emotional self-harm for him. He likes them in the moment but they also usually trigger massive anxiety and depression episodes for him later on in the day/night.

Others like "Se7en" (I know it's a thriller not true horror), "Saw" and the like are usually okay. There's a distinctive difference that may only exist in his own mind, but the more you watch with him, the more you'll find out which movies are "safe" for him. Which is good! He does like horror movies, but as we know from the prequel comics, he's not always good at taking care of himself due to massive amounts of trauma.

He loves films that are gems that aren't super well known in the US when he can find them. Have you seen the Korean horror film "The Silenced"? No? You're in for a treat.

He likes movies that have a logic or puzzle to them. Complex mechanics and traps. A sick sense of justice dispensed.

Favorite horror movies: The "Saw" series. Also "The Collector." He sees the upside down shot with the reflective contacts and the spider allegories and his eyes dilate like a cat seeing it's favorite toy.

[cherryasagiri]

Would You Help Me for Once?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Pairing: Jason x oc

Summary: Nafula wanted help removing the trash, but Dick Grayson would never.

A/N: Sorry I have been gone for so long. I have finally secured housing and have just been working and unpacking this whole month.

previous 🌸 next

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Nafula was a 15-year-old child then, continuing to grieve Jason’s death while figuring out what she would do with a baby inside her that would never have the pleasure of receiving her father’s love. The tired teenager begged her father to let her be independent once again. There was a time soon after Jason’s death that worried both Bruce and Alfred about her mental well-being after the birth of her child: she would stay out late, bribe owners and bouncers to let her into clubs she wasn’t old enough to get into, drink until she passed out and even dabbled in drug dealing. Still, that part of her didn’t last long.

The love-struck teenager just needed an outlet, and having the money to do so made it easier for her. Dick and Tim worried about their sister; looking from afar, they noticed her severe mental decline. Dick had always been around trying to guide her out of her funk. Whether it was taking her to her favorite places, spending quality bro time together, or even babysitting her daughter so she could have time to grieve fully. Regardless of the situation, the ravenette was consistently by her side. Even though the family thought her outlandish behavior would only worsen to the point where she accidentally ended her own life, they were finally proven wrong when she witnessed her daughter's first words.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Nafula was still coming off her hangover, jet-black shades adorning her eyes to cast out the bright rays of midday and the craziest migraine she had to date. Amena was lying on her mother’s chest, stirring awake as she tried to pick her head up to look at her mom. Nafula was still busy napping, so she didn’t notice or feel her daughter slapping her breasts to wake her up. Now that the baby is awake, her caregiver needed to be up too so she could entertain her. Nafula would lightly stir, not knowing what or who was bothering her, but she desired more sleep, so she ignored the light pats on her body. Amena wasn’t having it; she was annoyed her mom wasn’t waking up. The little babble that came out wasn’t doing it, nor was the assault, so she thought of the next best thing. Amena’s baby brain would try and remember the phrase her mother would encourage her to say, only to be left confused, but now she felt like it would be the right time to try it out. The more she babbled, the more Nafula tossed and turned while holding her baby still; even while sleeping, Nafula subconsciously put her daughter’s safety in the front of her mind so she would always be able to protect her. She was slowly reemerging from her deep slumber when something sweet reached her ears.

“Mama!” Amena screamed, her mother wide-eyed with tears pricking the corner of her lids. It was one thing that she needed for that day to be perfect. She, of course, shared it with Dick, video and all, of her precious girl acknowledging her. That day, Nafula vowed to be a better mother for her baby. Dick had his own vow to stay by her side, helping as much as he could as the favorite uncle. Pretentious much?

All that to say, the pair were close. Closer to each other than with the other bat kids in the family.

“Dick!” Nafula sang from the kitchen. She was tying up the last trash bag full of the most rancid garbage the boys had saved up because it was her week to take out the trash. “Yes, my dear sister, did you want me to grace your presence with my beauty?” He questioned smugly. Dick was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, looking smugly at his sister. She rolled her eyes at him, slightly irritated with him, before cracking a slight smile that didnt go unnoticed by the former professional acrobat.

He glanced at the piles of trash bags that had to go out tonight before looking back at the woman pretending to have trouble with the duty assigned to her that week. The children of Bruce may have grown up, most of them through their pre-teen years, with a silver spoon in their mouths aided by the wealth of said man who fostered them; however, he made sure that they knew how to function as an adult outside of having wealth. It wasn’t really a skill he had to learn when his parents were killed because he still had Alfred. Still, he thought about the what-ifs and knew that if he had gone from this world before his children were old enough to understand and live independently, they had to be prepared. They had to have the experience, knowledge, and abilities to survive without him and his money.

Taking out the trash was one of those tasks. After staring and noticing the creeped-out look Nafula was giving him, Dick pushed himself off the wall and stalked over to the woman.

“Seriously, what’s up sis? You never call me like that unless you really need something from me, so what is it?” he asked, not wanting her to beat around the bush and just be straight up. There was a little playfulness in his voice that he tried to mask with a bit of seriousness to try and hide the fact that she was already playing this little game in his head. He already knew what she would ask him, but he needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth before making his final judgment. Was he teasing her? Maybe because he already knows he will tell her “no” when she does, and the look on her face will be priceless.

She slowly glared at the male who was now standing in front of her with an accusatory look. She felt he was up to something, but her tired condition couldn't catch the slight mischievous gleam that danced in his irises. “Listen, I know this trash week is mine, but I just fed and put Amena down for bed, yelled at Jason–” “Isn’t that every day though?” Dick questioned when he cut her off, the sly grin plastered on his lips and spreading wide with each word that spewed out. Nafula only gave him a deadpanned look and let out a short, heavy sigh before repeating herself.

“Yelled at Jason for giving her candy before bed right after I told him not to, then had to suffer through a two-hour emergency parent conference through a phone call about the next few days of school for the kids because of the planned attack on the bank down the street. I am just exhausted, and I am not beaten to take out all this trash tonight. Can you please help me?” she begged, her pleading eyes almost making Dick give in.

He watched her weary figure sway a bit from the exhaustion she felt in her body. Dick knows that feeling all too well, and he knows he will get shit for this from her after today, but he feels like it will be worth it in the long run. After all, it will be payback when she refused to help him with it during his week. Then she had the nerve to laugh in his face when a bag snapped, and the garbage got all over his pants. He closed his eyes, letting out a stagged, regrettable sigh, and stared into his sister’s eyes.

“Oh, how much I would love to help you out, dear sister dear,” he started, putting on the voice he knew annoyed her, “but alas, I cannot. You see…” he trailed off, trying to find a good excuse not to help her but couldn’t come up with something fast enough. “if you needed help burying a dead body or needed my help to hide you after you go on a killing spree then sure! I will help you out, no questions asked. But I refuse to help you take out the trash,” he finished, the grin as wide as he could muster while he reveled in the shocked and irritated face she was making.

So much so that he couldn't help but laugh as he walked out of the kitchen and towards her shared bedroom so he could tell Jason what happened. Nafula was left there with no help and speechless, but she had a plan for that ass. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

[crrps3t]

Millennials and gen X parents are failing

Now this is mainly about my parents and how they've raised my siblings and me. When I was either 8 or 9, I got my first iPad; it was my mom's old one she used for school at the time, and she knew I wanted to play games on it like all my other friends at school. Now,  when she gave it to me, I got the typical "Don't talk to strangers" lecture, but that was about it. She never bothered to check it or anything. Now for the most part I did play games on it, normal things, but then one day I looked up girls kissing on Google like every queer kid did at the time and went down a rabbit hole. I eventually developed a porn addiction a few months after she gave me that tablet. 

At 10, she gave me my first phone, a shitty, hand-me-down Android. For the first few weeks I did my normal stuff, such as watch YouTube, watch Lesbo porn, and eventually got into Creepypasta. It all went downhill after that. At age 11, the good year of 2015, I got into creepypasta, Undertale, being constantly groomed, sending nudes to men between the ages of 19 and 73, cutting myself, and getting deeper into my porn addiction. I just became an absolute mess; at 13, I was starting to sell my nudes and even call these men, whom they would pay me for, developing binge eating disorder to cope with how shitty I felt. And despite my mother and father catching me multiple times talking to these men and doing these things, the most they did was take away my phone for a few days. Nothing was really done about it, so now I'm some hypersexual C-PTSD trauma-filled 17-year-old that has paranoid delusions, and it doesn't help that my mom is bipolar, my bio-dad has NPD, and that schizophrenia runs in the family as well. Of course there were other things going on in life, but I do think being consistently online during those years was not helping. 

So with all of this, you would think that maybe my mom would be a little more careful when it comes to exposing her kids to the internet, right? WRONG!! She's gotten worse. She doesn't even have a real excuse this time; she's in a loving and healthy relationship with my stepdad; there's no reason for her kids to be stuck to a screen to be 'distracted' anymore. 

I have two younger siblings, L and R. I absolutely adore them, but they're so cooked. R is 9 years old, and since BIRTH has been stuck to a phone or iPad, at least I got some childhood memories not centered around a screen. She's nine and twerks, is worried about her skincare, hates having body hair, curses, makes sex jokes with her other little friends, talks about wanting an older boyfriend to take care of her, feels like shes fat even though shes around 75-80lbs (34-36kg), is worried about being flat chested and wants to stuff her bra, and wears WAY to reveling clothing while doing tiktok dances with her friends. SHES 9 LIKE YEAH, I WAS FUCKED TOO, BUT ALSO, I WAS STILL MORE OF A LITTLE KID THAN HER!!! 

My brother, who is 7, L, is mentally disabled along with being deaf for most of his life so far. We finally just got his ears done so he can 100% hear now. HOWEVER, just like R, a screen was shoved in his face the moment my parents could do it. He can hardly talk, which is expected, but he still had about 80% of his hearing since he was 5. Instead of my parents sitting down with him and trying to teach him how to read, write, talk, learn his colors, or any actual life skills, they SCREAM at him and then tell him to watch TV. Because they don't want to deal with him. I have so many memories of my brother trying to simply find comfort in my mother, but instead she screams (and I mean screaming) at him to "Shut the fuck up!" and locks herself in the bathroom to smoke weed for hours. My father isn't much better. I love him; don't get me wrong. He was there when my biological father wasn't. SD (stepdad) will always be my father, but he's just as guilty as my mother. He doesn't yell or scream like my mom, but when my brother is struggling to understand or say something, he gets frustrated and grabs him by the ears, shaking his head while my brother cries at him to stop while degrading him, calling him things like dumbass, dipshit, retard, stupid, or any degrading name like that in the book. Then proceed to shove his face in a screen so they don't have to deal with him. 

Now you might be thinking, "Crrps3t, what does all of this have to do with millennials or Gen X? This is just you bitching about your parents."

Well, glad you asked! Because parents will do this to their kids and then proceed to question why their young kids are acting like this. Why their children are mentally behind, why their kids are having behavior issues, why their kids are acting like misbehaving teenagers rather than little kids. Because instead of actually interacting with their kids, they shove a screen in their faces without any restrictions or monitoring. This isn't just Gen Alpha or Gen X; it's also Gen Z. We were exposed to such horrific things, and look how the majority of us turned out. NOT THAT GREAT! 

No matter how much I explain this to my parents, they don't care. My father pretends to and claims he'll try and figure something out but never does, and my mom claims that I was perfectly fine on the internet and that I'm just some fun hating Nazis and how my kids are going to despise me in the future because I won't allow them unmonitored on the internet at a young age. 

I'm just so upset at the older generational parents and their obvious neglect with their kids, then proceed to blame everyone but themselves or just completely ignore the situation. 

I love my siblings; I love them to death. I love tucking them in at night, playing with my sister, playing roblox with them, playing tag, and making them food whenever they're hungry. 

But I won't be surprised if they end up fucked up, failed, and left behind in the future. I only have 9 months to teach them how to properly act before I'm sent away, and my schedule is already packed, so I don't know what to do. Because my mom and dad won't act like parents when it's inconvenient to them, I have to.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Mackie

Pairing: Tom Holland x actress!reader

Synopsis: any chance he gets, Anthony teases you and Tom about your relationship

Masterlist

Anthony Mackie was onto you.

It all started when he realized you and Tom weren’t actually dating, like he thought you were.

“Which Avenger would you sleep with if given the chance?” The journalist asked you, Brie, and Scarlett during a junket.

“Tom Holland.” You answered immediately. “Oh, did you mean the character?”

The girls laughed at your answer as you shrunk down in your seat. Everyone else answered with Thor, making your answer stick out even more.

“Wait, did they ask the guys this?” You wondered. “And follow up, did Tom say me?”

“I can ask.” The journalist chuckled and pulled out her phone. “My friend Jack is interviewing them in the other room.”

“Oh My God.” Brie groaned. “Now I want to know.”

You held your breath in anticipation as you waited for Jack to text back. Finally, the journalist felt a buzz and checked her phone.

“Tom did in fact say your character.” She laughed as she showed you the text.

“He did?” Your eyes widened. “Oh my God. That’s it. We’re having sex tonight. I’m telling him right now.”

The cast laughed at your antics as you sent Tom and quick text and shut off your phone to pay attention to the rest of the interview. You knew it was a joke, but you forgot that Tom didn’t know the context of your text. So when he checked in phone in the room where the boys were being interviewed, he was quite confused.

“I just got a text from Y/n saying “we’re having sex tonight” in all caps.” He laughed in shock. “What is going on?”

“Damn.” Anthony stated. “She texts you in advance?”

“No.” Tom blushed. “We’re not even together.”

“What are you talking about?” Anthony asked. “I thought you were?”

“We’re not.” Tom insisted. He always hated when he was reminded of the fact that you and him were just friends and he didn’t want to stay on the topic.

Anthony, on the other hand, wasn’t as inclined to let it go. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Tom, always looking for new ways to bother his younger cast mate.

“Hm.” Anthony drawled. “Interesting.”

A few months later, Tom, Anthony, and Sebastian were invited to a comic con in Chicago. They were known as one of the more chaotic pairings of cast members, so the interview consisted of constant digs at one another. And of course, Anthony took any chance he got to tease you and Tom.

“You must spend a lot of time together when filming these movies.” The journalist said to the couch. “Do you guys hang out off set too? Are there any Avenger pool parties we don’t know about?”

“Look, Toms a little asshole.” Anthony began. “Him and his little girlfriend are absolute children on set. We can’t take them anywhere.”

“His girlfriend?” The journalist asked.

“I mean Y/n.” He corrected, making the audience cheer. “They say they’re not dating but we all know.”

“We’re not.” Tom whined into his mic. “Stop saying that. People are gonna start believing you.”

“Because it’s true!” Anthony insisted. “You should see the two of them on set. They’re always touching and hugging. And I’m pretty sure I caught them in the dressing room one time. I won’t say what they were doing, but I could hear the bed creaking.”

Tom turned bright red and covered his face. He knew Anthony was just teasing, but it still embarrassed him. He collected himself and held his microphone up again, ready to dish it back to Anthony.

“You’re just mad because she likes me more.” Tom said, eliciting cheers from the audience.

“Uh uh.” Anthony shook his head. “Shes loves me. All the ladies love me.”

“Not Y/n.” Tom shook his head. “She loves me.”

“I think we can all agree Y/n loves me the best.” Sebastian cut in smugly. “It’s fairly obvious.”

“Did someone say my name?” Your voice sounded from a microphone, making everyone scream. Tom, Anthony, and Sebastian looked at each other in confusion upon hearing your voice.

“Wait, what?” Anthony laughed into his microphone as he looked around. Suddenly, your characters theme song came on the speakers as you came out from backstage.

“Hi!” You came out onto the stage waving. The crowd stood up upon your arrival and became deafening. Tom turned around, caught sight of you, and bolted out of his seat.

“Y/n?” He asked as he ran towards you. He immediately scooped you up in a hug, lifting you off the ground to spin you around.

“Hi Tommy.” You mumbled in his ear as you squeezed him back. Tom set you down but continued hugging you, kissing the side of your face multiple times. The audience went wild at this display of affection, prompting you to kiss his cheek back. You walked back to the couch hand in hand, taking a seat next to each other.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Tom said into his mic as he picked it back up.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You laughed, earning more cheers. “I’m filming something in Toronto but I wouldn’t miss a convention for the world. And I wanted to see you.”

Tom pouted and pulled you into another long hug. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen him, so you pressed a long kiss to his cheek.

“Do we all get kisses or just Tom?” Anthony asked, interrupting the moment.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Sebastian spoke up.

“Seb can have one but I’m not coming near you.” You teased as you walked over to Sebastian. You bent down to kiss his cheek before sticking your tongue out at Anthony.

“You look so pretty, darling.” Tom said once you sat back down.

“Please.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m so jet lagged.”

“I don’t look nearly this beautiful when I’m jet lagged.” Tom complimented you.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” You complimented back.

“Kiss kiss kiss kiss.” Anthony chanted into his mic while pumping his fist. The crowd roared as you and Tom rolled your eyes.

“Don’t start, Anthony.” You told him. “He does this all the time.”

“So I’ve heard.” The journalist laughed. “How was your flight, Y/n?”

You settled into Tom’s side as you talked about your flight and other random things. When the attention was off you, Tom slipped his arm around you and let it rest on the back of the couch. He felt you shiver at one point and realized you were sitting right under the air conditioning.

“Are you cold?” He asked you, making the audience laugh.

“A little.” You said sheepishly. He immediately took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, making the crowd go wild.

“Thanks, Tommy.” You chuckled as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. They were warm from his body heat and his cologne was lingering on the collar.

“Wow.” Anthony started up again. “You guys look like a couple.”

“A couple of besties.” You said quickly, making Tom shake his head.

“Uh huh.” Anthony said sarcastically. “If you guys aren’t dating, then why are you two always touching?”

“Because we love each other.” Tom snapped playfully. “You just don’t understand because girls don’t want to touch you.”

“Damn.” Anthony laughed. “Y/n, are you gonna let your boyfriend talk to me like that?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You replied. “We would make a terrible couple. I still haven’t forgiven him for the stamp act and I don’t see us getting past that.”

“Baby, it wasn’t me.” Tom played along. “It was my ancestors. I’d never tax your stamps.”

“Uh Uh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

“I’m gonna move on before I break you guys up.” The journalist teased, making you and Tom roll your eyes. “You guys have been playing these characters for a while so you must know them pretty well. What is something you have in common with your character?”

“That’s easy.” Anthony answered. “We’re both a cool black dude.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Tom joked, earning some laughs.

“Easy there, wonder bread.” Anthony laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“What about you, Y/n?” The journalist asked. “What do you have in common with your character?”

“Something my character and I have in common is that we both fuck this man.” You smiled as you clapped Tom on the back. Everyone on the couch’s jaw dropped as the crowd became deafening. Tom looked at you incredulously as you laughed.

“I’m just kidding.” You laughed into your microphone. “Um, I don’t know. We’re both pretty passionate about what we believe in. And we both wear a lot of black.”

“What?” Sebastian laughed. “You can’t just say that. That was a total 180.”

“I’m sorry.” You whined playfully. “It was a perfect opportunity and I had to take it.”

“I am literally speechless.” Tom said into his mic before breaking down into laughter. You leaned into each other as you laughed, not caring if no one else found it funny.

“I’m sorry.” You giggled. “Can we move on? Next question, please.”

“All right. Let’s talk about this kiss between your character and Loki.” The journalist began.

“Uh oh.” Anthony stirred the pot again. “Toms not gonna like this.”

“I don’t care.” Tom shrugged, but it was obvious that he was lying. You rested your hand on his shoulder to reassure him as you turned to answer the question.

“I actually had a lot of qualms before filming that scene.” You replied.

“Qualms?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I’m good friends with Taylor Swift so the first time I met Hiddleston, it was as her boyfriend. So the whole thing gave me serious qualms. I felt like I was breaking girl code.”

“That’s surprising since you improvised one of the kisses.” Sebastian, also looking for drama, cut in. “I remember you were only supposed to kiss once and you went in for second.”

“Well that was after a few takes and my qualms had dispersed.” You shot back.

“You hear that?” Anthony smirked. “She had no qualms.”

“I still felt so bad but those thoughts were soon replaced by “oh my God, I’m kissing Tom Hiddleston.” My qualms didn’t stand a chance to him in that wig.” You chuckled. You felt Tom tense up under your hand so you squeezed his shoulder.

“I know.” The journalist agreed. “He’s very dreamy.”

“Exactly. We were three takes in and my pussy starts screaming, “get help! Get help!”” ,You mimicked Thor’s voice, “so I knew my qualms were gone.”

You once again had all the jaws dropped with your words. Tom buried his face in your neck as he laughed, his whole body shaking.

“That’s one way to put it.” The journalist said as he wiped tears. “I have to ask. Which Tom did you like kissing more?”

“I liked kissing Tom H the best.” You said cheekily.

“Ooo.” Anthony started again. “Are we about to witness a couples quarrel?”

“I think so.” Tom played along. He pretended to look annoyed with you so you cupped his face.

“I’m kidding.” You assured him. “It was so you.”

“It better be.” He insisted. “Remember you kissed me after we shot the swinging scene and we weren’t even filming?”

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “I was in love with you that day.”

“What happened?” The journalist wondered.

“Well, I grew up loving Spiderman.” You explained. “So spending the day swinging around in Toms arms while he was in the suit meant so much to me. The second Tom took his mask off, I just kissed him.”

“Is that when you started dating?” Sebastian asked.

“No. It is not.” Tom shoved him playfully.

The rest of the convention went by in a similar fashion, with Anthony taking every opportunity to tease you. Once you said your goodbyes to the crowd, you and Tom walked back to your dressing room with your arms around each other.

“I can’t believe Mackie still thinks we’re dating.” Tom sighed as he shut the door behind him.

“I know.” You chuckled before an idea came to you. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we actually started dating and didn’t tell him? Like, as a joke?”

“That would be hilarious.” Tom nodded too many times. “Like, I could ask you out right now and he’d have no idea. We could go on dates and make out and stuff and just not tell him. That’ll show him.”

“We should totally do that. As a joke.” You quickly followed.

“We should.” Tom nodded. “Imagine his face when he finds out we started dating and didn’t tell him? It’ll be priceless.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait.” You sighed happily. “He would lose his mind if he found out we finally started dating.”

“Did you say finally?” Tom asked with a coy smile. Your face fell when you realized you had said a little too much.

“I did.” You said softly. “Because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

“So have I. In that case,” Tom smiled shyly, “Y/n would you like to go on a d-“

“Yes.” You cut him off before he could even finish. “I would.”

2 years later

On a rare day off, you and Tom attended a barbecue in Anthony’s backyard with a few of the other cast members. You were sat on Tom’s lap, full off food and contently listening to the ongoing conversation.

“These burgers are great.” Chris said as he patted Anthony’s back. “Thanks for barbecuing.”

“I got you, man.” Anthony nodded. “I actually got the recipe for the blend from one of the caterers on set. Remember that place that catered lunch with the really good cornbread and burgers?”

“I do remember.” Scarlett smiled to herself. “The filming schedule worked out so all got to eat together that day. That was so nice.”

“It was nice.” Anthony agreed. “Just sitting in the sun in our costumes and bibs. We had some fun conversations going on. I’m pretty sure that was the day Tom and Y/n started dating.”

“No.” Tom rolled his eyes. “We started dating after that one convention. Remember the one where Y/n surprised us on stage? We started dating that night.”

“Wait, you guys are actually dating?” Anthony sat up in his seat. “I was just playing with you.”

“We know. So we played with you right back.” You shrugged smugly. “We started dating to get back at you for all the jokes.”

The rest of the cast exchanged confused looks as you and Tom relished in your victory.

“But....” Anthony blinked in confusion, “you didn’t tell me until two years later.”

“Yeah. Because we were committed to the joke.” Tom said like it was obvious.

“Duh.” You added.

“Let me get this straight.” Antony rubbed his temples. “You started dating as a way to get back at me for teasing you?”

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t tell him you started dating.” Scarlett continued.

“Nope.”

“So you’ve been dating in secret for two years without him knowing.” Don went on.

“Yep.

“But....you see this as revenge on me?” Anthony asked with a tilted head.

“Yep.” You laughed. “In your face.”

“In my face?” Anthony raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

“Because we totally got you.” You bragged. “Look at your face right now. You had no idea we were actually together.”

“What an idiot.” Tom shook his head. “This guy, am I right?”

The cast exchanged another look as you and Tom continued not to understand why dating in private didn’t exactly count as revenge against Anthony.

“Okay.” Anthony said skeptically. “So let me ask you this. Now that I know about the joke, will you stop dating?”

You and Tom quieted down as Anthony brought up something you hadn’t thought of.

“Well, no.” Tom began as he looked at you. “We like dating each other.”

“So essentially, this had nothing to do with me.” Anthony concluded. “You two just wanted to date each other but used me as an excuse.”

You and Tom opened your mouths to defend yourselves, but shut them when you realized he was right. You looked at each other sheepishly before shrinking down in your seats from embarrassment.

Anthony Mackie may have gotten the better of you.

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland @lavender-writer @michaela072796 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper  @thestylestour  @officialsimppage @mrvelscaptains @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours @okkulta @parkerlovebot @jungkxxkk @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @whatthefuckimbisexual @olixerwxxd @starkbrain @creatorofthegalaxy @f-hollands @ilovefrogs1000 @itstaskeen @itmatteredatthetime @wrendermeuseless @amazinggracy @iprobablyshipit91 @magicalxdaydream @whereismytelephone @theonly1outof-a-billion @leilanixx @namoreno @bi-lmg @dracoswhore007 @tomhollandloml @avengers-hamiltrash​ @sunshinepeterparkr @gh0stgurl @so-very-asleep @veryholland​ @white-wolf1940​ @spideycheles​ @firwproof​ @fanficaddict13125 @pinklxmonade​ @thebestqueenoftheworld​ @nowayhomeparker​ @willowestelle​ @imobsessedzs​ @spideyspeaches​ @bookfrog242​ @hihiweezing​ @mathletemadison​  @chipot-lol​ @mackenziejanine​ @dhtomholland​ @peterstommy​ @insomniac-nerd-posts-things​ @prancerrparkerr​ @aayaissaa​ @loudthoughts-softspoken​ @starknik22​ @hallecarey1​ @tom-holland-is-bae​

[uncouth-the-fifth]

omg congrats on 100 followers! i love your writing. can i request #209 for damian wayne? thanks <3

209. "Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you," with Damian Wayne.

A week ago, you were feeling a bit stressed and spent most of the day in bed, searching for the will to complete your work. One backrub led to another and soon you were naked underneath Damian, depleted of all anxiety and fucked brainless. Your faces were so close that you could feel his jaw clench going into each thrust. He’d hit you with a series of fluid, brutal ones, then rasped against your collarbone, “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

You’d came. Instantly. Embarrassed and impressed by him, you’d try to play off just how sexy it was. Damian usually kept his thoughts to himself during sex, and if he didn’t, they were clear-cut questions without any sense of dirtiness. Even a little filthy talking was new. Not that you minded - at all. Damian had just smirked at you as you got dressed, leaving the topic in his eyes and only there.

At least, that’s what you’d thought.

The next time Damian brought you to bed, it was evening and you were getting home from work. You didn’t see him until after a much needed shower. He was in his armchair in your room, half-reading and half playing chess with himself on the coffee table. This was the most serene part of your routine. You’d take a shower after work and change, while Damian enjoyed your presence and read as he waited for you. Few words needed to be said, but apparently Damian wasn’t as distracted by his tasks as he let on.

“Long day?” He asked, innocently.

You pulled open the top drawer of your shared dresser, and as soon as you stole a pair of his boxers and a shirt, you dropped your towel around your ankles to dress. “Ugh!” You scoffed. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, I’m our only employee who has any idea what I’m doing.”

When you had your pilfered clothes on, broad hands settled on your hips and brought you into his delicious bubble of body heat. Damian’s voice had an interesting lilt to it, like he’d uncovered something and was bursting at the seams to test it on you. His fingers teased up the edge of your shirt and licked at your exposed skin.

You expected him to say something mundane. Instead, Damian purred against the shell of your ear, “Come sit on my face. Allow me to show you how much I missed you, beloved. Would that improve your mood?”

Your gut exploded into flames, a rocket reentering orbit. The floor and the ceiling switched places. Both hands on your waist drew out, cupping your middle and squeezing you against Damian’s firm chest. You felt your mouth open, felt yourself stutter to reply, while Damian’s grin broadened over your shoulder. Hypothesis confirmed.

“Um,” you swallowed, and turned around to meet his eyes, “yes, please...?”

Damian chuckled, and you were brought in for a buttery kiss. Rubbing your hips, he drew you to the bed, cursing between deep lip-locks. “I’ve thought of nothing else all day,” he promised, “making you scream my name, fucking you with my tongue...”

Too warm-faced to speak, you just moaned into his kiss, shattered by the thought. Damian’s lips seared to yours in a brutal, possessive kiss that left all sense of balance in your body clinging to your feet. His words already had your cunt throbbing, but it was his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt that earned him his first mewl. With nothing but the t-shirt between you and his hands, Damian could surely feel your nipples budding at his touch, and pebbling more when he pressed your chest together and pinched them. Your lips met again and again, insistent, wanting.

“...Feeling these pretty tits in my hands,” he drawled, breathless.

A bone-deep shiver rattled from his hands to your spine, filling your body with hot, tingling sensations of all kinds. You’d never heard him say that word before, but the grit of it tasted delicious when you kissed him.

You were nothing but willing when Damian beckoned you on top of him. Changing had turned out to be a useless effort, since Damian immediately ripped off your bottoms, kissing eagerly at your belly as you met him in the middle. He didn’t bother to undress himself; this was about you. Your thighs were scooped up and pulled snug around Damian’s face. The nervous giggles pouring from your mouth were traded for a sharp gasp - Damian spread your folds and filled them with his warm, wet tongue without hesitation.

He drew just enough to breathe, letting out a pleased rumble at your taste. “All for me,” Damian lazily grinned.

You tried to answer him, but all that came out was a drunken, “...Nnmmyeah.”

Right away, he is everything. His smooth fingers at your entrance, his tongue, his lips - all quickly blur together, making you squirm and moan above him. Even if you’re physically on top, Damian’s sharp eyes flick up to remind you who’s really in charge. His green, lidded gaze glittered with amusement and lust, pinning you where you sat. The look is so fierce that you clench around his fingers, and Damian smirks against your sex. Just hanging there above him isn’t enough. You tip forward to fist both hands in the comforter, rocking against his face and wailing.

Damian gives your clit a deep, drugging kiss, hums a throaty chuckle, then redoubles his efforts.

When it came to the other people you’d been with, going down on you had been nothing but a precursor to the main event. Even for you it’d been boring, and consisted of more awkward waiting than pleasure. But the ferocious thing in the center of Damian’s being operated on improving, on excelling, and between your legs that thing thrives. This is in no means a chore for him. He was the best at what he did, and what he did was eat you out like an animal.

His lips sucked deeply on your swollen clit, and you felt the fingers inside of you curl, curl - and your orgasm was suddenly on top of you, pounding through every nerve in your body.

Your trembling arms gave out one after the other, and with them you collapsed sideways against the bed. As soon as Damian was out from under you, you snapped your thighs together, chasing the lingering ghost of his tongue and gasping for breath. Damian waited for your last fortifying sigh to wuff out of you to start kissing you again. His lips dragged up your legs, then your belly, then your breasts, and finally captured yours when you twisted flat on your back.

You pressed a nail to Damian’s plump bottom lip, spent and satisfied. “I guess you really did miss me...”

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. 😏

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

[msmarvelwrites]

For Old Times' Sake

Summary: “Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue,”

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Explicit sexual content, Vaginal penetration, fingering, Choking, Bucky with the filthy words, mutual pining.

Word Count: 2.8K

Authors Note: WOW! It has literally been a hot minute hasn't it? I cant say that I’m not a little excited about this 3rd lock-down in Ontario because it means I can actually find time to write. I’m sorry it’s been so long, babes. Anyways, enjoy! (I’m actually the worst and it’s been so long since I’ve done this!) The Biggest Thank You to @sweeterthanthis for literally cheering me on the entire time. This was such garbage before you came along 😂 I had so much fun with this one babe 💕 thank you for all you do ✨

The wind whipped against your face, bruising your skin with it’s callousness. Though the unwelcomed lash was nothing compared to what was to come. Or who, for that matter. 

It had been longer than you cared to admit. The dodged calls hanging at the bottom of the icon on your phone serving as a cruel reminder of how cold you had been. Of course, it was never in your job description to take care of Bucky after Steve left— but there was an implication that made you run for the hills. 

You couldn't do anything for him - give him anything. The last five years had consisted of running and trying to start over. 

Besides, after the Accords, in the government's eyes you were just as fucked as Hydra. An ally turned fugitive the moment you’d chosen your side in that airport. You’d fight with yourself most nights that you decided with your head, but your first evening with a man who had bruised your lips with promises of what would come may have had more pull than anything else. 

The same man that had called you every week for the past six months… The same man you had spent countless nights with, years of your life you would never be able to scrub away, no matter how hard you tried. 

You had watched from afar as half of the world returned, their loved ones welcoming them home with teary eyes and broken hearts. You watched as he came home. His eyes, always scanning the crowds waiting for you. Waiting to see your face. 

It made all of this so, so much worse. This was definitely not the homecoming you could have hoped for. 

“We’re nearing the drop.” Your comm’s rang with a woman's voice who had helped smuggle you onto the craft. You weren’t exactly welcome in europe at the moment- or anywhere for that matter. The government did not take lightly to your’s and Sharon’s betrayal. You’d think that after everything the world had seen they would be a little more forgiving, but you couldn't exactly blame them for their trust issues either. 

You could, however, blame yourself. 

As soon as your feet hit the ground you were off. The distress call had come from Sam earlier that evening and now with the sun setting you could only hope you weren't too late. You tried to push the man who had haunted your thoughts for the past few years out of your head, desperate to focus on the task at hand. 

Bullets exploded through the air, a warning as you were approaching the large shipping container unit. Your comms went static as they began to connect with Sam’s, his voice ringing through your ears as—

“Sam, a little help here!” 

His voice stopped you dead in your tracks. 

“I’m on my way - called in some back up.” Sam grunted as the sound of strangled yelps echoed around you. 

“Back up? Who do we know that-” Bucky’s words were cut short as he let out a growl, the sound of his vibranium arm whirling in the background. 

You rushed in without a second thought, the sound of his pain too raw as it ripped through your chest. Before you could assess the danger, you charged forward, hurling yourself at a large man pointing his gun right at- 

With a loud thud, the man hit the ground. Your combat boot, heavy on his throat until he went still, and with it came silence. It was deafening despite the explosive gunfire around you. 

“Y/n?” 

Your name ripped through the air, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Back turned and body rigid, you were frozen in place. Years you had craved to hear your name spoken from his lips. Countless nights, forcing yourself to remember how it fell from his tongue, soft and get so personal. Like no one had spoken it before. 

“Y/n, what are you-”

Sam's voice cut the newly cropped brunettes words off,  “I got two coming in on your left, Buck. Oh- and welcome back, Y/L/N.” 

You smiled sheepishly at Bucky, pulling your gun from its holster and flicking the safety off as you closed your distance with him. Despite the aggravation apparent on his face, a broken smile seemed to be pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Here we go again, huh?”  You chimed, your eyes locking with his just as all hell broke loose. 

The trip back to Sam and Bucky’s base was one filled with uncomfortable silence, and a tension that had your blood running cold. 

Once the adrenaline of the fight had worn off and you were left face to face with Bucky Barnes, the guilt began to creep in. 

“So…” Sam started from the backseat of the beat-up truck, the suddenness of his words startling both you and Bucky for a moment. “Long time no see.” 

The scoff that left Bucky’s lips wasn't as subtle as you imagined he meant it to be. You tried not to let it bother you; in fact, you had prepared for this. How he might react when you finally returned home. What you weren't prepared for, however, was how indescribably gutted you would feel to watch him - eyes trained to the road ahead - as he gritted his teeth at your proximity. 

To say that yours and Bucky’s relationship before the snap was easy would be incredibly delusional. It was messy and at it’s best dysfunctional. But for whatever reason, the two of you looked beyond that. He saw through you like no one ever had and before you knew it, the two of you were glued at the hip. It didn't make sense, but no questions were ever asked. 

You just fit. 

And of course there was the sex. Good god, you could feel your thighs clenching at the thought. 

The way’s Bucky knew how to take you apart, with an accuracy that only he had. How he had your toes curling and body vibrating from the flick of his tongue. How he would have you screaming the most filthy things for him, all while begging to never ever—

“Y/n?” 

Sam’s voice was like an ice bath. Your name yanking you back into the present and the question at hand. What was the question again? You couldn't think straight. Not when Bucky was staring at you the way he was, one brow cocked and that same familiar smirk plastered on his lips. If you didn't know any better, you’d think he could read your thoughts. 

“Sorry- I… I was…” You couldn't seem to bring yourself back to this realm, too lost in the Super Soldier’s stormy eyes to remember what exactly you were trying to say. 

“He asked you where you’ve been, Y/n.” Bucky spoke your name like it was a curse, laced with razor sharp ache and pain. His eyes told a different story though. The way he looked at you; the same way he always did. 

With a warmth that only he had for you. It made you shiver. 

“Running, mostly.” You started, your body physically breaking your gaze with Bucky. It was too much, watching him glare down at you. And maybe you deserved it. 

“And you never thought to, I don't know, call me?” Bucky’s words were spiteful, oozing with a disdain that was beginning to wear down your patience. 

“It wasn't like that, Buck-”

“You can’t call me that anymore.” He snapped, his eyes trained on the road. Your gaze snapped to him, brow arched as you all but scoffed at him. 

“Oh, I can't?” You chuckled, but the sound came out flat. He had every right to ask you where you've been. Hell, get angry if he wanted. But the way his words seeped with disgust made your blood boil. 

“Okay, okay guys. Let’s all take a breath and just—”

“Shut up, Sam.” You both snarled, causing Sam to roll his eyes as Bucky pulled into a long winding driveway with a small log cabin sat at the end of it. You reached for your seatbelt until your door swung open. 

“You two figure your shit out. Whatever this is,” Sam motioned to the space between you two, “ isn’t leaving this car. I’ll be inside. Feel free to come in when y'all have killed and made up, okay?” With that, Sam slammed the door leaving Bucky and you alone in your static tension.

Bucky worried on his lip, his eyes trained to his lap. You opened your mouth to speak, but your words seemed caught in your throat. 

“You didn't even call…” 

It was so quiet, you almost didn't hear it. But you did… 

Voice small and so filled with ache; it kicked you in the stomach, the guilt washing away any anger you had felt. 

“Bucky… I- I couldn't.” You forced out, tentative as you met his gaze, stomach dropping as your eyes locked with his. 

“I thought I lost you. I thought - I mean, fuck - you were all I cared about.” He sighed, clearing his throat as if it would help ease his discomfort. “I looked for you, ya know?” He chuckled, but there was no warmth behind it. Just a brokenness that made you squirm. 

“It’s not your fault—”

“Oh, I know it’s not.” Bucky quipped, his eyes flicking away from yours and turning back to face the cabin. “It was your own selfish decision.” 

You scoffed, head snapping back to meet his glare. “Selfish? Bucky, I had no other choice. Not everyone can be pardoned for their crimes. It’s not like I had Steve Rogers advocating for my freedom!” 

Bucky only rolled his eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, you swore he might rip it clean off the car.  “Don’t bring him into this. You don't think that I would have done everything to get to you? To clear your name?”

You laughed bitterly, blinking away the tears that welled at the corners of your eyes. 

“You gotta at least give me more credit than that, Doll.” The pet name rolled off this tongue easily, washing over you, and making you freeze. 

“Please don’t call me that…” You faltered, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek. 

It seemed the tension dissipated in that moment, silence heavy between you both as Bucky reached out, his flesh fingers finding a tear and brushing it away. You tried to speak, but with everything that had been said, and all that would never be, you decided words just weren’t enough. 

You didn't have time to object before his lips were on yours, your body moving at its own accord as he pulled you onto his lap, your thighs either side of him as his tongue swept across your bottom lip. You tried to moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound. He rendered you breathless, his taste intoxicating as you melted into his embrace, grinding into him and shivering when a familiar growl slipped from his lips; vibrating against your mouth. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” You moaned out, clutching his jacket as you licked down his neck. His skin was burning against your lips, the rumble of his breath heavy against your ear as he let out a dark chuckle, urging you on. 

“Well, if you had just called me—” 

Before he could finish the sentence, you reached for the recliner, snapping it forward as you toppled forwards onto Bucky’s chest. His words fell back into his throat, hands automatically finding your hips to steady you while you fumbled with his belt. 

“Doll—” He tried to start, but you swallowed the name with your kiss, heated and rooted in a desperate need to feel him again. You ached for him in a way you’d never felt before. 

Maybe what you had was unfixable. Maybe it was beyond repair, but with the way he was kissing you and hiking down your pants, it didn't matter. You were drunk on him, and by the way he bucked his hips, so was he. 

You shivered as his vibranium fingers looped into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down over your legs as you both awkwardly tried to move in the cramped seat. You wanted to laugh, but as his cold thumb swiped through your slick folds, all you could do was whine. 

“So wet for me…” He hummed, teeth sinking into your throat as he pulled a whimper from your lips. 

You cursed, hands propping you up on either side of him as he dipped his index finger into you, the intrusion enough to have your back arching into him, desperate for more. 

But Bucky was a tease. And even now, after all of this time, it was the very thing that had your buckling above him. Pleading and begging for more.

“Look at you.” He started, his eyes dark as he pushed deeper inside, his finger curing into you as you gasped. 

“P-please, Buck.” You begged, grinding down onto his hand. To your dismay he only chuckled, watching intently as you came undone around him. 

“I told you,” He started, lifting you off of him and tossing you against the backseats, “Don’t call me that.” 

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat as he awkwardly crawled towards you. But the look in his eyes had your stomach twisting into something that emulated fear. It was guttural as he pressed into you, the outline of his cock digging into your drenched folds.

You bit back a moan, eyes rolling back in your head as his cold fingers brushed against your core, pulling himself free from his boxers. 

“Do you still love me like you did?”  He spoke, and though the words were soft and filled with promises you had broken before, there was a darkness in his voice. 

“I never stopped.” You admitted. And it was true. But that didn't seem to be the answer he was looking for as he licked his bottom lip, eyes trained on your throat. 

“I’m afraid isn’t gonna’ feel much like love, doll.” He breathed out, lining himself up with your entrance. Before you could speak, he thrusted into you, knocking the air out of your chest as he bent you uncomfortably in half. You could only scream as he caged you in, forcing you down against the seats as he fucked into you. 

It’s not like you forgot how Bucky filled you, but his size was something you would never be able by to fully adjust to. Especially not now, when he was holding you steady, his hips snapping against you giving you no time to ease into the assault. And by the looks of the lopsided smirk plastered on his swollen lips, he knew exactly how shredded you felt. 

“Fuck, you take me so good, sweetheart.” The pet name doing nothing to quell the ache he sent ripping through your body as he sank deeper into you. You could only cry out, head smashing into the door as he kept up his brutal pace. 

“B-Bucky, please.” You weren't exactly sure what you were asking for, but at this rate you wouldn't last long, the familiar coil building in your abdomen as he nudged up against your cervix. 

“Slow down, baby.” You choked on a sob, eyes glassy as his vibranium fingers coiled around you thoat, pining you to the seats.  

“Did you miss this part, doll?” He whispered against your ear, a shiver ripping through your body and igniting a flame you had so desperately craved since the moment he vanished from your world. “Miss the way I ruin you, Hm? I can feel you, coming undone. You’re so close, aren’t you?” he teased, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat until you were coughing around the pressure. 

“All I need to do is-” His flesh thumb ran circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back into your skull as you croaked out his name, begging him to ease up. “There it is.” He chuckled, quickening his pace until you were a shivering mess beneath him. 

“Bucky, I-” 

“I’m going to ruin this cunt, sweetheart. Stay still, and let go for me” His voice was like gravel, only letting you breathe once you nodded your head in complicity, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as the orgasm wrapped itself around your core. 

“Fuck.” You managed to scream, your head lulling back as a title-wave of ecstasy crashed over you, pulling you under.

“That’s my girl.” His words tipped you over the edge, his name on your lips like a prayer as you quivered, your body violently shaking. “God you're so tight when you- Shit!” 

With a few sloppy thrusts, Bucky came undone. His hot spend coating your pulsing walls as he gasped. Your bodies a tangled mess as he puffed out a breath against your neck. 

You both just stayed frozen, too afraid that the moment you pulled away, reality would sink in. And the truth was, you weren't exactly sure what that meant. 

Bucky slowly eased himself out of you, gasping a little as you spilled out onto, what you only hoped, would be easy to clean seats.

 “Doll, that was-” 

“Hey,” Sam knocked hard against the now foggy glass, “You two hungry, or what?” 

[lazysimp]

Normal Again /// Bakugou x Fem Reader (18+)

✧Click HERE to read Male version ✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: A sequel to fine. You never expected recovery to be easy but you never thought it would be nearly impossible. In the weeks since your torture things between you and Bakugou had only grown more strained. Will you be able to save your relationship or is it a lost cause? 

Word count: 8.7k 

Warnings/tags: TW: Self hatred/violence, degradation (not in a sexy way), Angst, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (giving and receiving), Anal play, She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

A vicious laugh filled the air as Bakugou’s boot connected with your cheek sending your body flying towards the ground. His deep red eyes were full of glee watching you spit out blood from your busted cheek. He crouched down, looking at you as if you were filth. 

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Just lying there taking it all. You are pathetic, honesty how did I ever see you as more than an easy fuck.” 

“Stop it Bakugou,” you beg weakly. You could not bring yourself to understand how such cruel words could come from the same mouth that used to worship you. 

His boot connects to your head once more sending blinding pain shooting through your skull. “Did you really think you were going to be with me forever? That I would tie myself to someone who can’t even stop themselves from getting kidnapped by a B-ranked villain.” 

His boot rests on your face, its thick rubber sole indenting its print into your cheek. “The only reason I kept you around this whole time was that you spread your legs whenever I wanted. You are easy, too easy and the whole office knows it. They all laugh at you, at how much of a whore you are.” 

Tears begin to leak from your eyes as he brought to light all your insecurities. You would rather he kept beating you than continue to torture you with his taunts. After every night of the same torture you had grown numb to the physical pain but no matter how hard you tried you could not escape his words. 

“If it wasn’t for you I would have already climbed my way to the top. All you can do is hold me back from my dreams with your constant failures. You make me despise you.” 

His heel digs into your temple creating an agonizing inescapable pressure. You were helpless to stop his merciless assault and you were not sure you even wanted to. All you really wanted was for all of this to stop. The constant pain and guilt had worn down your spirit, it was as though you had nothing left to even lose. 

“Look at you just lying there taking it. Why don’t you fight me you pathetic bitch? Why don’t you ever fight?” He screamed, emphasizing each with a blow to your head. You reach up to cover your ears not wanting to hear anything else but your arms were trapped down at your side, held by some invisible force. 

You try again to lift move your arms and then your legs but a warm tight hold tightened even further. Needing to escape the suffocating warmth you thrash around, lashing out at the invisible force. 

“Shh, baby it is ok,” Bakugou said above you his boot still on your head. “This is all just a dream.” 

You slam your eyes closed needing to escape the glaring red eyes that only brought you pain. 

“Mimic is dead and will never hurt you again I promise,” Bakugou’s voice grows closer to your ear. This was your chance! You manage to free one arm and reach up, blindly scratching at any body part you could reach. 

Your nails scream for mercy as you drag them viciously down his arm, their gliding made easy by blood. Despite the pain you know you must have caused, the invisible hold only tightened, trapping both of your hands. 

“Please baby open your eyes, you are safe I promise.” Bakugou’s voice cooed softly trying to pry you away from your own mind. 

You shake your head not trusting the voice, after all, it was the same one that had just been hurting you. With both your hands held still you are left with no choice but to use your teeth. You bite down on one of the arms holding you, sinking your teeth deep into the flesh until a rusty taste fills your mouth. 

“Open your eyes my beautiful girl please,” Bakugou’s voice grew clearer, the malice you had been expecting surprisingly absent. 

Reluctantly you relax into the warm hold and crack one eye open. A sweet smelling black tank top was the first thing you recognized. You blink your eyes a few times to clean them and get a better look around. 

The cold dark room you had been in only moments ago was gone, replaced by a soft bed and warm blankets. The tight suffocating grip that had held you earlier is now a warm embrace. 

You look at the strong arms holding you to your fiancé’s chest and wince. Deep red scratch marks littered his muscles and an already bruising bite branded his shoulder. With you no longer resisting he released your hands and started to run his fingers up and down your back. Despite his mask of relaxation, you could tell he was shaken up. 

“I did it again didn’t I?” you ask weakly already knowing the answer. 

Bakugou let out a sigh, “Yeah, it took me nearly ten minutes to get you back this time.” 

Overwhelming guilt filled your mind for the second time tonight. You had hurt the man you loved because of some stupid dreams. It had been months since your rescue and still every night without fail you dreamed about it happening. It was like the torture never stopped. 

“It is getting worse,” Bakugou says, continuing to pet down your back. 

You nod weakly. He was not wrong. Neither of you had gotten a full night’s rest since the incident. No matter what pills you took without fail you dreamed about Bakugou. Logically you knew it was not Bakugou who had been the one to hurt you. He was your hero and his reward is you flinching from his touch and attacking him in your sleep. None of this was fair. 

Bakugou’s lips softly pressed against your forehead as he pulled you in even closer. You ignored the spike of fear being close to him caused and tried to remember this was your Bakugou, not the sick twisted version Mimic created. 

“We can’t keep going like this baby,” he says weakly. “I think I need to leave for a little bit.” 

Absolute panic grips your heart, “No! Please don’t leave me. I’ll get better I promise. I will find another sleeping pill that one doctor prescribed worked for the first couple of weeks. We can figure this out, please don’t-” 

“Shh,” Bakugou pulled you in closer. “Right now I am not good for you.” 

You open your mouth to protest but he places his hand finger over our lips. “Baby you flinch every time I look at you.” 

You wanted to deny his claim but remember how his eyes felt on your skin and shutter. 

“My face, my voice, hell my smell are all triggers for you. I am hurting you by being near you. I am causing you pain by serving as a living reminder of your pain and I can’t do it anymore.” 

Hot tears start to fall from your eyes. You hated how everything he is saying is not wrong. He is a walking trigger for the memories of that night and you had no idea how to get over them. 

“So this is it,” you say, defeated. 

“No, baby god no. You and I just need some time apart until you are ready to see me again. I am planning on staying at Deku’s for a bit, the nerd offered me his spare bedroom.” 

Despair was the only thing you could feel. All of this was your fault and he should hate you for it but he doesn’t. Why doesn’t he hate you like you hate yourself? He should be screaming at you for causing all of this. The blame is yours and yours alone. If you had been just a little stronger you would never have been taken in the first place and none of this would have happened. 

“Until I can get you to talk to me about how you are feeling I can’t help you. All I am doing is making this worse.” His arms started to loosen their hold around you and for the first time in weeks you wanted them back. 

His arms pulled away completely, taking his warmth. “This is not permanent,” he assured. “It is just until you are ready for me to come back and I will wait as long as you need.” 

You start to reach out for him, to beg him to get back in bed but the silhouette of him above you sent a chill down your spine. You wanted to rip everything apart, every time you made progress there was something dragging you backward. 

You watch helplessly as he quickly dresses and leaves the bedroom, not looking back. You can’t blame him, you want to be free of yourself too. You could hear the front door to the apartment open and quietly shut, the lock clicking into place. 

Life moved slower when you did not have your angry gremlin by your side. It had been a few weeks since he left and you had never been more miserable. At first, you had agreed to the separation, after all, he was a giant trigger but you were quickly realizing it was worse without him. 

The anxiety of being alone at night had you reaching for your phone nearly every night, wanting to call him. It was a miracle you had managed to resist. With you not there to bother him maybe he would finally be getting some sleep. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was a couple of texts letting you know he was still alive. You know he was trying to give you space but the longer he was away the more you wanted to drag him back home. 

Your therapist had still not cleared you for fieldwork so the only thing you could to distract yourself was binge a couple of shows and try some cooking. Of course nothing you made tasted half as good as Bakugou’s cooking. By the end of the the first week your life consisted of sleep, tv, and takeout. 

Your glazed-over eyes half focus on the tv in front of you as you are lost in your thoughts. You hear a knock on the door and rush over to open it. Could he have changed his mind and come back? For the first time in a long time hope filled your chest but it was quickly shattered as you look through the peephole. Uraraka stood still outside your door holding a few grocery bags. 

You try to plaster on a fake smile and open the door. Uraraka did not wait for an invitation and barreled her way into your apartment. 

“Hello to you too,” you mumble, closing the door. 

She sets the floating bags onto the counter and releases her quirk. “Whew, you would believe the line at the store this morning. All the old ladies were fighting their way into the store for the 20% off sale. Of course none of them could beat me from being first in line.” 

You snort, no matter how many brand deals and hero contracts Uraraka had she never stopped being frugal. 

“How was your morning?” She asked, unpacking the many goods from the bags. 

You shrug, “Same as always, watched some tv and pretend my life isn’t falling apart.” 

Uraraka pauses and gives you a look of understanding. “You know he hasn’t forgotten about you, not for one minute.” 

You look away, “What does it matter, our relationship is practically over. I have not seen him in weeks and even if I did see him I would make everything worse with my stupid fear.” 

“You fear is not stupid, you went through something traumatic and need time to heal.” 

You scoff, “I have had time. But every time I make any progress something triggers me and I fall right back down to where I started.” 

“That is normal though! It took me weeks to even look at Deku without crying. You are both being too hard on yourselves.” 

“I am tired of waiting!” You yell, finally letting your anger out in the open. “I miss him so much it hurts. I miss how he would hold me every night after he helped me bathe because I was too sore to even lift my arms. I miss how he would pack my lunch every day because he could not stand watching me go hungry. I miss my Bakugou.” 

Uraraka wraps her arms around your shoulders pulling you in tight against her chest, letting you sob. It was the first time in weeks anyone had touched you. Her soft hands traced up and down your back, trying her best to soothe the pain. 

“I miss him so much,” you cry between hiccups. 

“So why don’t you call him? I am sure he would be happy to hear your voice.” Uraraka pulls out her phone and starts to dial his number. 

“No!” You snatch the phone from her hand and toss it over your shoulder. You wince as you hear the phone connect with the hardwood floor. 

The hand on your back stills, “You are going to replace that you know.” 

You nod, a worthy expense if it meant you did not have to confront reality just yet. At least with him gone you could pretend your relationship was not over. 

“Stop saying that! Your relationship is not over. What the two of you need is a good conversation.” 

You must have said the last part out loud. “What does it matter, even if we have a conversation and he moves back in I will end up having nightmares and keep him up for weeks. It is not fair for him to suffer through that for me.” 

“Ugh!” Uraraka shoves you off her chest and stands. “Both of you keep pushing each other away based on some convoluted idea that you are actually protecting each other. It makes me want to pull my hair out!

You cross your arms over your chest, “Well I am protecting him.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Sure.” 

“Hey, don’t make me regret teaching you sarcasm. I’m being serious, my nightmares were getting so bad I started to attack him in my sleep.” 

“No offense but Bakugou can handle you with his hands tied behind his back.” 

“But he shouldn’t have to! It is not fair for him to have to worry if his fiancé will attack him in his sleep every night.” 

“News flash, life is not fair. It was not fair when I watched the love of my life get skewered in front of me. It was not fair when I could not look at him for weeks without crying. And it was not fair when Mimic tortured you. None of this is fair or just, it is all shit we are given and sometimes it is more than we can handle.” 

She holds your chin in her hands, “The only thing you are doing wrong is pushing away the person who you need the most.” 

“But I hurt him when he is close,” you argue weakly. 

Uraraka’s eyes softened, “You hurt him more when you push him away. His quirk is not mind reading, he has no idea how to help you, how you can both help each other.” 

You knew she was right, that what you were doing was not working. But you were stuck, unsure how to even start talking to him again. Even so, you had to try. 

“Alright, I will try giving him a call-” 

Behind you, Uraraka’s phone rang, its piercing ring tone cutting you off. Your heart sinks, that ring tone only went off when a hospital was calling. Without a word, Uraraka bends down and picks up her phone from the floor. 

“Hello, this is Uravity speaking,” she said into the phone. 

You watch her face for clues and your heart grew even heavier as worry danced in her eyes. 

“Are you going to transfer him to the Hero’s hospital in Tokyo?” 

Your breathing stops. No, the world could not be so cruel. Your hearing grows fuzzy making it impossible to tune into the rest of Uraraka’s conversation.

“Hey,” someone said in the background. “Hey, I need you to focus. Bakugou is hurt, I am not next of kin so they won’t tell me anything about his condition. I am going to drive us over to the hospital, he should already be there by the time we arrive” 

You nod, too stunned to speak. He was hurt. Your Bakugou was hurt and you were just standing around. Ignoring the pain in your chest your mind finally snapped into action. 

Wordlessly you and Uraraka rushed down to her car below. The drive to the Hero’s hospital was short, only a few blocks from your apartment. The front entrance was already packed full of reporters trying to catch a glimpse of your injured hero. 

You bite your tounge to stop yourself from cursing the reporters out. Those nosy assholes wanted to broadcast Bakugou’s pain to the public for a quick buck. Luckily disappeared from your sight as Uraraka drove past the and into the private parking lot. 

Uraraka had not even put the car in park when you shoved open the door and ran to the sliding doors. You could hear her yell to wait behind you but you kept running until you found the front desk. 

You skid to a stop in front of a shocked receptionist and slam your palms down on the counter, “Where are they taking Hero Dynamight?” You ask, holding your hero license out so she would know you were not a reporter. 

The receptionist winced, “I am sorry but only allowed to disclose information to the family of the patient.” 

“Well I am his wife and I am demanding to know where he is.” You retort, not caring about the implications of the claim. 

“Dynamight is not married, his paperwork states he is a single but nice try.” 

“Listen here you-” your rant was cut short by a soft hand on your shoulder. 

“It was a private ceremony, they have still not made it public yet so there is now paperwork. I know that is not protocol but won’t you please let it slide this once ” Uraraka smiles sweetly trying to play cute to get what she wants.

The receptionist shook her head, “ I am sorry but I cannot allow anyone who is not documented family to visit any patient.” 

You open your mouth to yell but Uraraka beats you to it. 

“That is fine, thank you for doing such a great job protecting our heroes.” She gently grabs your bicep and pulls you away from the desk before you could say another word. 

“What are you doing she is our only way of figuring out anything about Bakugou.” You hiss trying to pry yourself free from her hold. 

“No she’s not,” Uraraka turns her head to look at you and smiles. “I spent a few weeks coming in and out of this hospital while Deku was recovering. Going through the main entrance is the easiest way but there is a locked side door. With enough force, it can be wiggle open.” 

“Won’t it have an alarm?” 

“Of course it has an alarm this is a heavily secured building. Luckily they have a well-trained hero there to investigate the disturbance,” she winked. 

You laugh, being a hero did have its perks. It only took a few more turns before she found the small door. 

“Now when I open this door a blaring alarm will go off and two security guards will come rushing from either end. I will handle the one on this side but you will be on your own for the other. Try not to hurt them too much.” 

With that Uraraka wraps her hand around the door handle and pulls, her arm muscles bulging from the effort. You stand still, stunned to watch your friend pry open the solid steel door.

The door finally gives sending out a blaring alarm but you had already made it past the first couple hallways, hiding in a small doorway as a guard runs past. You wait another minute to make sure the coast is clear besides casually walking down the hallway until you found a nurse’s station.

“Excuse me,” you say, trying to sound as polite as possible. “The front desk told me to ask you which room my husband is in.” 

The oldest nurse looked you up and down skeptically, “What is your husband’s name?” 

“Bakugou Katsuki.” 

“Uh-hu sure, wait here a minute for me while I go find his nurse.” She turned and disappeared into the room behind the station.

Fuck, she was onto you. You slowly walk backward away from the door’s line of sight and rush down the hallway looking desperately for Bakugou. He had to be here somewhere but the hospital was a maze of hallways and doors with no names on them. 

You could not yell out for him that would only alert security to your position faster. You spin on your heels looking frantically for any sign of him but the more you look, the more lost you become. 

“Hey! You cannot be back here,” A security guard yelled, a taser already armed in his hand. 

You put your hands into the air, looking to your side for an escape. You could handle one petty security guard but you did not feel like explaining to the commission why you beat a guard. Sucking in a deep breath you run towards the officer who was too shocked to pull the trigger on the taser. Sticking your leg out you kick his feet out from under him sending his back to the floor. 

Without looking back you run down the hall taking as many turns as you could to find a hiding spot. One of these rooms had to have no camera in it. 

In your frantic looking, one door stood out. It was off to the left in a dead-end hallway. It had to be a good enough hiding spot as any. You sprint to the door and swing the door open into a pitch-black room. 

You felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of entering the darkness but you had no choice, security was hot on your heels. You close your eyes and step into the darkness, closing the door behind you. 

Your back rests against the door and you listen to the guards run past the hallway. For now they had no idea where you were. You let out a sigh of relief and feel around the wall for a light switch. 

Mercifully, you find it and switch it on. The room looked like any other hospital room except for one thing. There was someone in the bed and they were about to look up. 

Shit! You duck under one of the tables in time to hide from their view. 

“Oi, I thought I told you people to leave me alone! I already took the damn pills and agreed to stay the night.” 

Your breathing stops at the deep rough voice of Bakugou. You found him; he is not in a coma fighting for his life. He is in bed resting safely just feet away from you. A sob of relief climbs your throat, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to mute it. 

The rush of blinding fear to find Bakugou suddenly turns into fear about seeing him. What if he did not want you to visit? Fuck you should have thought about this more before you left. 

“I can hear your breathing! Don’t make me get out of bed or I will kick your ass.” 

Not wanting him to hurt himself by standing you relent and force your weak knees up. You keep your eyes to the floor not daring to look at his face, “Surprise,” you tease weakly. 

“W-what?” Bakugou said, his voice high and full of confusion. 

“I-I heard you got hurt, no one was telling me anything, so I decided to come and check up on you myself. But I see you are fine so I will leave you alone. I am sorry for barging in.” 

“Wait! Don’t leave,” Bakugou winces as he sits up in bed, his abdomen covered in bandages. Instantly you rush to his bedside. 

“Don’t move that fast you will hurt yourself!” You lecture, gently pushing him back down to the bed. Bakugou looks down at your hands with shock, you had not touched him caringly since the incident. 

You quickly realized your hands were still on him and snatch them back to your side. You stand there awkwardly, unsure what to do. It was like the months of being together had been erased since he had left. 

“W-what happened?” You finally ask to break the silence. 

Bakugou looks down at his hands, “Some stupid kid ran out in the middle of the fight and almost got themselves killed. I didn’t have enough time to get them out of the way, so I had to shield them instead. Damn villain managed to shoot me.” 

“You got shot!” 

“Yeah, pathetic asshole knew he could not take me without a gun. Lucky for me he had terrible aim and managed to only graze my side. The only reason I am still in this stupid bed is because Rescue Girl is on vacation and refuses to come in and heal me.” 

The heavy weight on your heart lifted slightly knowing he was not seriously hurt but you still worried about his current condition. Bakugou was not one to sit around until he felt better. In the time the two of you had been together he only got sick once and it took tackling him to the ground and tying him up in bed to keep him from working. 

You knew him and Deku were on good terms now but dealing with a hurt Bakugou was a full-time job. “How long did the doctor say you have to be off work?” 

Bakugou scoffed, “She thinks I have to wait at least a week even with Recovery Girl. As soon as I can escape this bed I will head back to the office I have a villain to hunt down.” 

You put your hands on your hips, “Oh no you won’t. If the doctor tells you to wait a week you will wait a week.” 

A mischievous grin spreads across Bakugou’s face, “Oh, and how are you going to enforce that?” 

Blood rushes to your face making your cheeks feel like they were burning. To keep him from fighting his restraints the last time he was sick you had to fuck him until he was too tired to care he was chained up. By the time he had recovered from being sick you could barely walk and he had to be the one to take care of you.

“Don’t look at me like that when you are hurt.” 

“Then answer the question, how do you plan to keep me from working this week.” 

“What are you five? Do you really need an incentive to be good?” You taunt. 

A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Yes.” 

You throw your hands up in the air, “Ugh, you are terrible!” 

His hand reaches out and grabs your wrist to pull you in closer to the bed and for a second fear flashes in your eyes. All of the teasing had made you forget your fear but his touch brought is all back. 

Bakugou sensed the change in your demeanor and opened his hand to free you from his touch. 

“Wait, don’t move your hand,” you suck in a deep breath. “Just give me a second.” 

His warm long fingers wrapped themselves back around your wrist, holding still as you try to calm your heart. You were stronger than this fear. You could do this. 

“Baby, you don’t have to push yourself, I understand-” 

“No!’ You yell, taking a step closer to his bed. “This is ok, I will make this ok again.” 

You avoid looking at his face, needing to build up your strength before testing your limits. Being separated from him had helped your memories heal some but it was still difficult to see him. 

Forcing the tight fear in your chest down you intertwined your fingers through his and pull them up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

“It is easier when I control where you touch,” you mumble to him, trying to follow Uraraka’s advice. 

“What?” Bakugou asked, unsure what you meant. 

“When you are the one controlling the touching, it makes me nervous because I don’t know what will happen next. It makes me feel like I have no control and that is when I start to freak out.” 

You look down to where your hands were joined, “When I am leading the touch I have some idea of what will happen next and it is easier to not feel scared.” 

“So you have to be in charge?” 

“I don’t have to always be in charge, I just need to know what you are thinking, what you are doing before you do it or I need to be guiding it.” 

Bakugou smiled, “So if I told you to sit on my face would that work?” 

A few incoherent words fall out of your mouth as you try to process what he just said. 

“Well, maybe, but you are hurt and need your rest. Besides, you should not be thinking about that while you are lying in a hospital bed. When you are discharged, we can try something like that.” 

Bakugou sat up straighter, “Oh no you don’t. I have gone without your taste on my tongue for too long. You are going to get that sweet ass over here and sit on my face.” 

“No, Bakugou. Look at the state of you. I could seriously hurt you.” 

That was the absolute worst thing you could have said, in seconds his teasing eyes filled with fiery determination. The last time he gave you that look was when you rejected going on a date with him. A week later he had your legs wrapped around his waist. 

He lifts his finger and points to you and then his face, “Come here.” 

You stubbornly shake your head, “This is not happening Bakugou. You could tear your stitches and have to stay in the hospital even longer.”

He shrugs, “Fine with me as long as you are here.” 

This damn man must be suicidal. “We need to talk more about our relationship before we dive right into sex.” 

“Your mouth will be free and clear to talk.” 

“This is an awful idea. What if I get freaked out in the middle of it all?” 

“That’s easy, we stop,” he gently pulls you in closer his face now only inches away. 

“Please baby I have missed you; I promise I will stop if it gets too much.”

You were conflicted. Neither of you were in a state where you should be fooling around. But the feel of his hand on yours was so calming and warm that you wanted more. 

“Alright,” you whisper. “But If you are in any pain you need to let me know.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now get that pretty ass up here,” he pats his shoulders. 

“This is such a bad idea,” you mumble to yourself as you slip off your pants while Bakugou lowered the head of the bed. This could go wrong in so many ways but the longer you thought about his tongue on you the less you cared. 

“Fuck baby,” Bakugou groaned, “Climb up, you won’t hurt me.” 

You toss your pants to the side and do as he said. Climbing up onto his bed and carefully lowering yourself over his face. Your face was burning at the thought of what all he could see. Needing support, you grab ahold of the headboard. After all you did not want to hurt him. Bakugou was not having that. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down until you had no choice but to rest your weight on his face. 

“Wait, you could hurt yourself,” you protested breathlessly. 

He only laughed, his hot breath teasing your aching cunt. He sat still under you for a few minutes letting you get adjusted to the feeling of his touch, and it let him soak in the sight of you above him. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled against the soft skin of your thighs. Not wanting to move too fast he first places a few sloppy kissing along with your inner thigh, giving you ample time to mentally prepare for his mouth on your cunt. 

You try to stop yourself from shaking but it was impossible. It had been months since someone had touched you and to have Bakugou beneath you, ready to worship your body, was almost too much for your brain to process. 

Bakugou’s mouth teased your other thigh before settling on your already soaking wet pussy.

“That’s my good girl, already wet for me. This pretty pussy knows who it belongs to, but does its owner?” 

“Bakugou stop talking to my pussy and get to work,” you growl. 

“Tsk, when did you become so greedy?” The hands on your thighs shift around until they were able to spread open your sex giving him complete access to you.

“You are lucky I miss this just as much as you do or I would tease you for hours. Tie your ass to the bed and not let you leave until neither of us could move.” 

You rock your hips trying to egg him on, “Sounds to me like you are all talk.” 

The hands on your thighs tighten forcing you to put all your weight onto his face. You try to pull yourself up, not wanting to suffocate your boyfriend but he refuses and goes straight for the kill. His soft wet tongue drags a straight line up the slit of your cunt, gathering up your juices. 

Your hands abandon the headboard and thread through his hair. Bakugou groaned, settling into feasting on your cunt. His soft lips slide through your folds, looking for your hidden button. 

“Ah please Bakugou,” you beg, “it feels so good.” 

You could feel his smile against your skin before his mouth latches onto your throbbing clit, dragging it into his mouth. 

While his lips teased your clit, one hand left your thigh to snake around under you. You lurch forward as two thick fingers slip through your folds, wetting themselves in your slick before they gently press at your entrance. 

Your hips buck away from the combined sensations fearing to be too much but Bakugou was not having it, he strengthened his hold on your thighs and pushed you down on his fingers. You sob at the feeling of being stretched, it had been so long the burn was more intense than normal. 

“Fuck baby you are so tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,” he groaned. 

“Bakugou,” you whined. “You can’t just say things like that.” 

He releases your clit with a pop, “Like what? Like how I want to feast on this pussy until you are all I can taste for weeks. Like how by the time I am done with you, you will be a sobbing mess that I will have to take care of. Just listen to this sloppy pussy take my fingers. Fuck baby people would kill for even a sliver of this cunt but too bad for them it is all mine.” 

You shove a fist in your mouth to stifle a loud moan. The last thing either of you needed was someone barging in. 

Bakugou pulled your aching bud back between his lips and got to work. The two fingers inside you started to pump, curling to hit your sweet spot each time they were inside you. His delicious tongue flicked up and down on your clit driving you mad. 

Trusting you would not run away he releases your other thigh and reaches under your shirt. His large hand stroked up your stomach, caressing the skin there before latching onto one of your nipples. He pinches the soft peak between his fingers, rolling it until it pebbles. You arch your back into his hand and start to rock your hips wanting more. 

Bakugou moans into your cunt, able to tell you were growing lost in the pleasure. He loved it when you were too engrossed with feeling good to care about anything except him. 

Looking down in between your legs you could see his light blonde hair peeking out from the apex of your thighs and had a devilish idea. 

“Bakugou stick out your tongue,” you order. 

He releases you from his mouth and looks up, his chin soaking with your juices, “What?” 

“Stick out your tongue, like this,” You show him with your own mouth. 

A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes and he smiled. Good, he liked the idea too. With no delay, his tongue stuck out of his mouth. You reach down and spread yourself open, settling back over Bakugou’s eager tongue. His fingers abandon you in favor of holding onto your ass while you dig your fingers into his hair. 

With both of you settled you slowly begin to rock your hips, riding his tongue. You start off slowly, watching closely for any sign Bakugou was not comfortable but judging by his growl of pleasure you would say he is just fine. 

A red hot warmth started to grow in the lower half of your body, slowly spreading its tingle to your lower belly. Fuck, the image of Bakugou beneath you, letting your ride his face was almost too much to process. 

“Oh god Bakugou,” you moan. “Please, it feels so good.” 

He could only groan in response, his mouth too busy bringing you to your peak. When you looked down at him between your legs you could only see his bright lust filled eyes. They were intensely watching you fall apart. 

White spots started to grow in your vision and you increase the speed of your thrusts. The fingers in his hair tighten, now holding onto him for dear life. It only took a few more rocks of your hips before the white spots grew into a blinding white light.

Overwhelming waves crashed into you, sending glorious pleasure pulsing through you. Your body was not your own as the electricity ran through you making every muscle grow taunt and release in a never-ending cycle. 

Bakugou redoubled his effort, not letting you even finish your first peak before he was building you up to another. The idea that you would feel that pleasure again was enough to make you mad. 

His fingers slipped into your clenching entrance and curled forward, teasing your sweet spot. His lips returned to your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth and lashing at the tender bud with his tongue. 

You release his hair, afraid you will rip it out, and hold onto the headboard as all the clenching tension finally releases, sending you spiraling. Loud wanton moans ripped from your throat and you could do nothing to stop them. 

Bakugou toyed with you until you could no longer hold yourself upright. Only then did he gently lift you off his face and down onto his lap. You slouch over and rest your forehead on his shoulder. The world around you was fuzzy, your mind still reeling from how hard you finished. 

“Wait, Bakugou you are not supposed to be lifting anything!” You yell when your mind finally returns to reality. 

“Tsk, I already told you I am fine.” 

You fought the urge to slap him, “You idiot what if you had busted open your stitches!” 

“You did not seem too worried about that when you were rubbing your cunt on my tongue.” 

“Well, obviously I was not thinking straight,” you mumble. Damn him for being right. 

Bakugou gives you a sly smile, “You know I am feeling a little sore.” 

Regret slams into you, “Damn it Bakugou, I was worried this would happen. Where are you hurting.”

His hips thrust upwards forcing his rock-hard cock against your ass. “Right there baby.”

You flick your finger against his forehead, “I was really worried you asshole.”  

“But it aches, won’t you make it feel better?” 

“You are lucky you are hot,” you whisper into his ear before carefully descending his body. You settle in between his legs, pulling down the blankets to free his cock. 

You have to stop and stare at it. Everything about your boyfriend had to be perfect. His cock was long and proud, resting on his stomach with a small tuft of blonde pubic hair at the base. His cock had one large vein running up the length of it, pulsing with each heartbeat. God, you wanted to trace that vein with your tongue. 

Reaching up you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He was so warm on your hand, like your own personal space heater. You shuffle your body to get your mouth a little close to his cock and then before he could say anything bring the head of his cock into your mouth. 

His reaction was instant, his hands shot down to grab at the sheets beside your head. You could feel his hips flex under you as he fought the urge to thrust up into your mouth. 

Feeling emboldened by his reaction you relaxed the muscles in your jaw and took more of his length into your mouth. His salty flavor spilled across your tongue as he started to release pre-cum. Your poor baby had gone too long without any attention. 

Redoubling your effort you bring up your free hand and wet it with your spit. Reaching under your busy mouth you slide your finger down until you find Bakugou’s tight entrance. 

“Hey, what do you think you are doing?” Bakugou growls, grabbing your wrist. 

You let his cock fall out of your mouth and look up innocently, “I am making you feel good baby, just lay back and relax. I promise this will feel good.” 

He looked conflicted but slowly the iron-clad grip on your wrist loosened enough to set you free. Not waiting for him to change his mind you begin to circle his hole with your wet finger. Before you could even try to push your finger forward you needed him to relax. You return to teasing his aching cock with your mouth, sucking on his tip just the way he likes all the while circling your finger around his hole, waiting for him to relax enough for you to slip it in. 

As you take another inch of him into your mouth you could feel him relax enough to slip your finger slip past the tight ring of muscle. You could feel Bakugou tense so you did not move the finger forward, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. 

With your tongue on his dick it was easy enough to distract him as you slowly inch your finger in. Once you went in far enough you twist your finger around, looking for a soft spongy spot inside him. A sharp thrust up into your mouth signaled you had found exactly what you were looking for. 

“What the fuck,” Bakugou groaned, his hands going to hide his face. You smirk, finally, you were the one driving him insane. 

You benign to move your hand and mouth on his cock in time with your finger in his ass. Small pathetic whines were leaving Bakugou’s mouth and you felt like a god. You were so engrossed in bringing him pleasure you had no time to think about anything else. 

You could hear his breathing begin to grow more labored and his cock grow even harder in your mouth. “Fuck, baby I am going to-” Was the only warning you had before his cum shot to the back of your throat. 

You swallow his release down, making sure to ease your hold on his cock, now only gently pumping your hand and finger to lengthen his orgasm. 

Slowly the pulsing of his cock stopped and you released him from your mouth, wiping the spit on your chin off with the back of your hand. You could not help but smile as you watched Bakugou slowly come back into the real world with a beautiful dazed look on his face. 

He slid his hand under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes, “Where the fuck did you learn that?” 

“Being away from you for this long made me desperate so I watched a couple of videos to make it easier.” 

“Right,” he said breathlessly, “You need to show me that shit later if it taught you that.”

You laugh, “Gladly. Now lay down you need your rest.” 

Bakugou tilts his head, “What the hell do you mean rest? I have not been away from you for too long, I can rest later. Now I am going to get my cock into that tight pussy.” 

“Bakugou you just finished.” 

“So,” he thrusts his hips up, rubbing his already erect cock against your ass. 

“How?” You ask in amazement. 

“I have been fantasizing about fucking you for months baby. Did you really think once would be enough to satisfy me?” 

Without waiting another minute his hands grab into your hips and lift you up. Lining your entrance up with the tip of his cock. In a flash you involuntarily tense your body, the memories of that night rushing back into your head. No, no, no, not now, not when you were so close to being one with Bakugou again. 

His bright red eyes meet yours as he feels you tense. Fuck, why did you always mess everything up, this was all your fault. Why could you not just be normal, that is what he deserved a nice normal happy girl. 

“Hey,” Bakugou whispered softly. “Talk to me, what is wrong.” 

You wanted to keep your lips shut, to pretend that everything was fine but that would be lying. You never wanted to lie to him. 

“I can’t stop thinking about Mimic. One minute I am fine and the next he is all I can see.” 

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, “You were fine with what we did earlier? What triggered it?” 

You shake your head, “It is different every time. It is just hard for my mind to differentiate from my Bakugou and the one Mimic made.” 

“So call me Katsuki.” 

“Huh?” 

“If you are having a hard time with there being two Bakugou’s, then try calling me Katsuki. That way there is at least one easy way to tell me apart from him.” 

“You want me to call you by your first name?” 

His eyes softened, “Yeah baby, I want you to call me by my first name.” 

“Katsuki,” You test his name out, loving how it feels on your tongue. You watch his face to see his reaction and see lust fill his gaze. Oh he liked it.

You start to whisper his name over and over again, like a prayer to remind yourself you were no longer under Mimics thumb. You were with the man who would kill anything that tried to hurt you.

“If you keep saying my name like that baby I am going to fuck you,” Katsuki growled into your ear.

Oh would he now? You wiggle your hips, teasing the head of your cock with your dripping slit. Pulling him in close you whisper one little word, “Katsuki.”

“You asked for it,” He laughed, hauling your hips back up until they hovered over his cock.

The hands on your hips gripped down with bruising force and his cock slipped into your entrance. All the play from earlier had left you more than prepared enough to take his length. The familiar burn started as his cock sank deeper inside you, opening you wide for him.

“By the time I am finished with you, this tight cunt is going to be fucking dripping in my cum. I am going to fill you to the fucking brim.”

A low groan was your only response he bottomed out inside you, his cock leaving no space unfilled. You could damn near feel him in the back of your throat. Normally he would be the one to initiate thrusting but you were growing too impatient.

Bracing your hands on his chest, careful to avoid his bandages, you lift your hips up until only the tip of his cock was inside. Then you slam your hip down, marveling at the feel of him entering you again.

His cock was perfect for hitting all the sweet spots inside you. Not wanting to be left out Katsuki grab ahold of your ass and uses his own strength to strengthen each thrust.  

You look down to where you both were joined and almost came on the spot. The sight of his cock pistoning into you was mind-shattering. He looked like a god beneath you. His large muscles building with effort, the thick veins in his arms standing elevated.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his bright red eyes filled with determination. “Right now you are mine, that means the only thing you are allowed to think about is me. About how good my cock feels splitting you open. Is that clear?”

You weakly nod your head, too overwhelmed to speak. A soft smile spreads across his face, “That is my baby, so good for me.”

His praise felt like a caress on your skin. You needed to distract yourself or this would end too soon. You lean forward and press your lips onto his. His tongue glided along the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You happily opened your mouth allowing his tongue to slip inside. The taste of his spit was mixed with your own flavor, and you still had some of his taste on your tongue. The combined flavor was so fucking lewd and hot.

The familiar tingled started to grow in your pussy, you were not going to last long. The muscles in your legs begin to tremble making your thrusts grow sloppy. Katsuki was not having it. His hips rose to meet yours, forcing your body to endure even more pleasure all the while he toyed with your mouth.

It all became too much, the different sensations all worked together to drive you up, higher and higher you were climbing until it was hard to even breathe. Then, just like that, all the pressure released sending you spiraling.

Your pussy clamped down on his cock, forcing Katsuki to erupt. The thought of him filling you only lengthened the brutal pleasure filling your mind. There was no room in your mind for anything but him. You had no care in the world but him just like he ordered. 

As the pulses of pleasure slowed you were able to finally catch your breath. You both laid still in each others arms for a few minutes, letting you come slowly back to earth. Of all the times the two of you fucked this definitely had to be in the top three. Though they did say that makeup sex was the best. 

“How are you feeling?” Katsuki asked, his voice rough. 

You rest your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “I feel good.” 

He places a soft kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you are ready for me to come home?” 

You take the time to think about it. Having him back in your life did not set off fear like it used to. Instead, it made you feel warm inside. You looked forward to going to bed with him instead of dreading it. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Yeah, I am.” 

The arms around your waist tighten pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. You snuggle in closer, getting comfortable. Katsuki would never admit it but lying here with you in his arms safe and happy was one of the happiest moments in his life. 

Neither of you was healed from what had happened but you refused to push him away again. You will get past what happened and you will do it with him by your side. 

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Accidentally Forever : Prologue

Word Count : 630

Warnings : drinking, clubbing, swearing, mentions of sex, pregnancy

Story Masterlist

Taglist : @yellowroseskolchek @whatudowhennooneseesyou @perfectlysane24 @rebelspy @missmustachejelly @baguette-atiny @almost--legal @mxnxmistic @randomness7198 @eastleighsblog @rionah @hoohoohope

It stared her in the face and she couldn’t help but re-read it over and over. It was only one word, but it was a word that was going to change her life forever. Pregnant. “Fuck.” She whispered, throwing the stick down onto the counter and staring at her reflection, tears welling up in her eyes. “How could I let this happen?”

            The club was densely crowded, but he could still spot her in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a large group of people, consisting of both men and women. She had a drink in her hand as she swayed her hips to the music. She screamed the lyrics as loud as she could. She was someone Jongho would normally avoid, but he found himself slowly walking towards her.

            From across the club he could tell she was beautiful, but up close, she was breathtaking. Someone that made him think twice about his no relationships rule. A once in a lifetime kind of beauty. And he could tell the guys in her group knew that too, 3 of them not tearing their eyes away from her. Not until Jongho approached.

            He held out his hand for her to take, pulling her closer to him to whisper his name in her ear, a playful smirk dancing on his lips when she pulled away. “You look like you need a refill. Can I buy you a drink?”

            She followed him off the dance floor and towards the bar, something about him drawing her in immediately.

            How could she let herself get caught up so easily? Falling for the sweet words and late nights tangled in the sheets. Giving up all her other hook ups so easily for one man. Choi Jongho. Someone from out of town. Someone new and exciting. And he had her falling so quickly.

            “Try this on.” Jongho handed her new lingerie with a smirk on his face. “I saw it and got excited when I thought of you in it.” She moved in closer to take the silky garment from his hands, pressing a teasing kiss beside his lips.

            “Seems like you’re getting excited again. Let me change and take care of that for you.” She didn’t bother leaving the room, opting instead to give Jongho a show as she changed, a show Jongho was very grateful for.

            “You are perfect, my pretty Violet.” He whispered, pulling her in by her waist, pressing his lips to hers as if it was the only way he could get oxygen to live. Kissed her like he was dying and wanted to feel alive one last time.

            She knows what she got herself into. Knows they agreed on no strings, no feelings. But Choi Jongho was someone that made you fall in love before you even realized you were falling.

            Gentle goodnight kisses as he pulled her into his arms, slowly falling asleep beside her. Surprise gifts because he thought they’d look good on her, and he was always right. Taking care of her all day when he was particularly rough the night before, and being extra careful the next time, focusing only on her pleasure.

            He did things others never did. He made her feel like the only girl in the world, like the only girl in his world. Like she was a goddess and he was worshipping her. Kissing every hickey as his hands caressed all her curves.

            She thought she was okay with their relationship the way it was, working on getting over him so she could see him as just another guy she fucked. But one missed period had her erasing all that progress. Because he was more than just a guy she fucked.            

He was the first man she fell in love with.

[dreamerstreamer]

Slip Up

Pairing: Dream / Clay x f!reader

Summary: One literal slip up leads to another and, well—it isn’t pretty.

Warning: includes depictions of anxiety as a result of exposure

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted something about a secret relationship! i hope you enjoy! on a more serious note though, don’t harass your creators and the people they care about. seriously, don’t.

With one last click, Clay let out a sigh, grabbing his headphones and setting them down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the still clip on his monitor with a hint of a frown tugging at his lips.

After two long hours, he was officially tired of listening to George’s screams ringing through his ears. Sure, they were funny in the heat of the moment when he was recording, but having to listen to the same screams on loop while editing?

He shivered.

No thanks. He needed a break.

Grabbing his phone, he pushed open the door to his studio and headed for the stairs. I wonder where [Y/N] is, he thought to himself as he climbed the basement stairs two at a time. It’s been a while since I last caught a glimpse of her.

Surfacing on the first floor, he stuck his head into the living room, glancing around for a brief moment only to deduce that you weren’t there. With a huff, he spun on his heel. If she’s not there, he thought, his strides confident and full of purpose, then she’s definitely in—

He stepped into the kitchen, his gaze landing on your figure half-tucked behind the open fridge door almost instantaneously. He smiled. Bingo.

Slowly, he crept forward, slipping around the kitchen island to silently walk up to you. Before you even noticed he was there, he leaned down next to your ear and whispered.

“Boo.”

Letting out a sharp yell, you whirled, your wide eyes practically drowning in the amusement filling Clay’s emerald gaze as he let out a long wheezing laugh. “Clay!” you gasped, holding a hand over your heart. “You scared me, oh my god.”

His wheezing only grew louder in volume as he slapped his knee, still cackling at your distraught expression. Puffing your cheeks in a pout, you turned your back to him, staring back into the fridge. “Meanie.”

Struggling to regain his breath, Clay leaned in to wrap his arms around your waist in a hug from behind. You could feel his chest shaking against your back with laughter, beginning to slowly die down with each passing second. A moment later, he dipped his head down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry,” he hummed. “I just thought it’d be funny to make you jump.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I was right. It was.”

“Not for me,” you grumbled, and he let out the tiniest of wheezes next to your ear. 

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing your neck. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you all morning.”

You relaxed into his warm touch, melting into the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. Sending him a tired smile, you closed the fridge door and focused your attention onto him. “I’m alright, but I’m feeling kind of tired,” you admitted. “You get kind of sick of working on an assignment after the third, you know?”

He snuggled closer to you, smiling into your neck. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t know, but I understand your point.”

You rolled your eyes at him, leaning back into his figure. “Right, I forgot that you didn’t go to college, Mr. Streamer.”

Clay laughed at your words. “You’re just that much smarter than me, then.” He poked at your cheek affectionately. as he cooed, “Look at you, my super smart college student girlfriend.”

You turned in his arms to face him, frowning at him. “Clay, you say that like you aren’t considered to be one of the best, if not the best Minecraft player in the world. Give yourself some more credit.”

He brushed a stray hair away from your face, his gaze fond as he held you a little closer. “Okay, but only because you told me to.”

You snorted, sinking deeper into his arms. “If your followers could see you now, I’m sure they’d be spamming ‘simp’ in chat.”

He chuckled. “They already do that whenever I hang out with George—I can’t even imagine to what extent it would increase if they knew about you.”

You offered him a smile, but it felt forced. The question had been swirling in the back of your mind for a little while now, and it was just sitting on the tip of your tongue, now. You had to ask now, or it would devour you alive.

“Hey, um, Clay,” you said, your tone shifting as you fidgeted slightly in his embrace. “Do you—do you think we’ll ever tell people and your fans about, well—” You gestured to the space between the two of you. “—about us?”

He paused for a moment, then let out a soft breath. “I want to,” he said. “Oh man, you don’t know just how badly I want to share you with the whole world and show them you’re mine.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, your lips instinctively curling up at his words.

“But I don’t think they’re ready for that just yet,” he added in a wistful tone. He pulled back, sending you a crooked smile. “How about we cross that bridge when we get there? I know that when we do get around to it, they’re gonna love you as much as I do, I promise.”

You bobbed your head, feeling the anxiety in your gut disintegrate. “Okay. Thanks, Clay.”

He reached up to ruffle your hair, cooing at the small whine you let out. “Anything for you.”

Knocking his hand off your head, you grinned at him. “On another note, what have you been up to? Instead of sleeping in late, of course, you lucky butt.”

He swayed back and forth, bringing you along with him. “I spent a lot of time editing some videos that are still in the works. I’m gonna be streaming for a few hours in a bit, though. If you need anything, you know where you can find me.” He grabbed your hand in his, fiddling with your fingers with a slight squeeze. “Are you still gonna be working on your assignment later, or will I be allowed to bother you?”

Your mouth twitched at his pouty tone, and you squeezed his hand back. “I actually might go out to the grocery store. Patches’s cat food is on sale, so I might stock up on that, and I kind of wanted some snacks for studying. Was there anything you wanted while I was gone?”

He hummed, thinking for a moment. “Not really, to be honest.” Slipping his hand into yours, he began leading you to the front of the house. “Here, let me see you off.”

You felt your heart swell with love as he handed you your bag from where it hung on the coat rack while you laced up your shoes. Clay was always so attentive to you and your needs, never failing to make sure you had everything you needed at the drop of a hat. You were really too lucky to have him.

“Do you have your mask?” he asked when you stood up.

With a nod, you fished it out from your pocket, waving it in your hands. “Mhm.”

He smiled. “Awesome.” Opening his arms, he pulled you in for one last hug, inhaling the scent of your flowery shampoo before swinging the door open and watching you step outside, car keys in hand.

“I’ll be back soon!” you cried, waving to him from the driveway.

He waved back, leaning against the doorframe. “See you!” he called back. “Take care out there.”

“I will!”

His viridian gaze trailed after you and your car as you sped off down the road, knowing all too well exactly which radio station you had inevitably turned on. Well, no matter. He supposed it was time to stream, now. Locking the door behind him, Clay strode down to the basement, sliding into his desk chair with his hand on his mouse. Slipping his headphones over his head, he rolled his shoulders and opened up Twitch. 

Taking one last deep breath, he grinned and pressed the ‘start streaming’ button. 

“Hey, guys!”

You grunted as you pushed the front door open, sliding your shoes off as you heaved the last sack of cat food onto the ground with a loud thud. 

And that’s all three. Finally.

Pushing the door closed using your foot, you placed your hands on your hood in determination.

Now, to get them downstairs.

You grimaced, glaring down at the offending bags. This was going to sooo much fun.

Some things never ceased to amaze you. Like how smart Clay was, even as dorky as he could be. Like how fast he blown up. Like how much you loved him.

And like how much cat food Patches managed to eat without getting fat.

Seriously, you thought to yourself with a grumble, how does she still look the same even though she goes through a whole bag of cat food in like... two weeks? It’s just not fair.

“I wish I had your metabolism,” you muttered, shooting a glare at the feline in question.  “You suck.”

Patches was perched on the stair railings a few feet away from you, grooming her paws. The moment you spoke her name, she lifted her head to look at you, her ears flicking. You stared at each other for a few seconds before she let out a soft meow, jumping down to rub against your leg.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” you murmured to yourself, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of her nuzzling her small head against your calf. “I could never hate you. You’re too cute.”

You turned your attention back to the three sacks of cat food you now had in your possession. Patches’s domain mostly consisted of the basement, where you kept her toys and costumes. Consequently, that’s where the cat food was also stored, albeit out of sight so that Patches wouldn’t get any ideas. Like her owner, she had a penchant for mischief, but you loved them both anyways.

The main problem here was getting the cat food down the stairs. 

I’m a strong independent woman, you thought to yourself with a small smile. Also, Clay is streaming, so I can’t ask him for help even if I wanted to. Bending over, you hoisted the first sack into your arms. That’s okay, though. A few stairs can’t stop me.

Taking a deep breath, you trudged toward the basement, carefully taking the stairs one step at a time down. The last thing you wanted was to trip while carrying the cat food of all things.

Unfortunately, it seemed that you jinxed yourself.

Everything went fine for the first two bags, each sack having safely made their way onto their proper spot on their designated cabinet shelf. Each time you tread down the stairs, you would take a quick peek over at Clay’s recording studio, smiling to see him amicably chatting with his viewers while completing another speedrun. With a smile on your face, you climbed the stairs once more to come face to face with your final obstacle.

You grinned despite your arms aching from having done so much heavy lifting. Last bag. Let’s go.

Rolling up your sleeves, you began the same process you had been running with for the past two trips: pick up the bag and head down the stairs, making sure to step carefully. 

What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was Patches’s presence.

You were just about halfway down the stairs when Patches darted in front of you. With a soft yelp, you stepped back to avoid her, letting her bounce down the stairs ahead of you. A brief breath of relief escaped your lips, but it was short lived. 

Just then, your sock’s grip on the floor gave out, and you felt gravity wrap a hand around your ankle.

Oh, crap.

A shout tore its way out of your throat as as you tumbled forward, landing on the ground with a resounding crash. Beside you, the bag of cat food smacked into the wall and landed with a loud crunch. 

That can’t be good, you vaguely thought, your mind fogged up by a cloud of pain.

Just a few rooms over, Clay froze mid-stream, his mouse coming to a halt as his entire body went stiff. Without even thinking to mute himself, he tore his headphones off his head, your name flying from his lips in a flurry of worry as he rushed out the room.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], are you okay?”

On the ground, you winced, pain shooting up your side as you pulled yourself forward. In an instant, Clay was on the ground by your side—one hand on the small of your back helping you sit up, the other brushing your hair away from your face.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, panic seeping into his face as his eyes scanned every inch of your face for harm, “are you good?” You nodded, but it did nothing to ease the worry in his expression. “Tell—tell me.” He held three fingers in front of your face. “How many fi—”

“Three,” you replied immediately. You offered a pained smile, stifling another wince as you did so. 

He leaned in closer to your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “How badly are you hurt?”

You shifted your spine, trying to gauge the pain. The ache was dull at most, minimal at best. “Only a little.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You let out a small sigh, sending him a reassuring smile. You appreciated his protectiveness, you really did, but sometimes he really did go the extra mile. “Clay,” you said softly, “I’m okay, really. I promise I’m okay. I just tripped and fell.” Then you glanced behind him, letting out a deeper sigh. “The cat food, on the other hand? Not so much.”

The bag must have ripped open when it fell, its own weight having collapsed on itself and tearing a hole right through the bottom. The individual pellets of cat food where strewn all across the floor, littering the ground like pebbles. And of course, Patches was already starting to nibble away. Pesky girl.

Clay stood up, reaching a hand out toward you. “Here, I’ll help you clean up.”

You took his hand, shaking your head as he pulled you to your feet. “No, no. You should get back to your stream.” Your brows knit together. “I interrupted it, didn’t it? Your followers will be waiting for you. You should go back.”

He shook his head, his expression resolute. “Contrary to popular belief, [Y/N],” he said, “you’re more important to me than just one stream. I’ll probably just end it when I’m done here, anyway.” He squeezed your hand, his gaze kind. “Let me help you. Please.”

With your heart fluttering in your chest, you squeezed it back. 

“Okay.”

Clay grabbed the two of you a dustpan as you began to clean up the mess of cat food you had made on the floor. You whined about how you just wasted a sale by tripping down the stairs while he poked fun at your frustration, passing you Patches with the request of keeping her away from the food as he swept. In practically no time, you had nearly forgotten what had transpired at all, just happy to spend some time with your wonderful boyfriend next to you.

If only you knew just how much your little fall was going to blow up in your face.

You ran your tongue over your chapped lips, your gaze focused on your laptop screen as your mouse finally hit the submit button. Letting out a sigh, you finally let the stress seep out of your body as a small smile overtook your features.

Finally handed it in. Now, you didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

With a groan, you stretched your arms out above you, cracking your back. You’d been working away for a couple of hours now, but at long last, you were free for the weekend. Humming to yourself, you picked up your phone. You had set it to ‘do not disturb’ a while back, since it hadn’t stopped vibrating at one point. You hadn’t bothered to check why at the time, but you supposed you could spare some time for yourself before dinner.

Swiping your phone open, your thumb instinctively tapped on Twitter, a blue glow enveloping your screen before fading to dark. You hummed as you opened up the trending page, curiosity pawing at your backside. You had your bets on some trend going viral, but knowing the internet, it was probably some weird, random crap.

There were a handful of political memes topping the charts, as well as a #TGIF. You stifled a laugh as you scrolled a bit lower. Twitter sure was a weird place.

That was when a tag caught your eye.

#DreamExplain

Your thumb stopped, hovering over the screen. What? Explain what, exactly?

Then there—just few lines below that.

#WhoIs[Y/N]?

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

That was your name. 

Trending. On Twitter.

Panic shot through your veins.

What the actual hell happened?

With a heavy feeling of disbelief sinking its claws into you, you tapped on your name, watching as hundreds of tweets shot past your eyes.

Who’s [Y/N] and how can I be her

dream explain?! oh mygood what was that !!!!

is [Y/N] Dream’s girlfriend or something

um ??? dream said the name [Y/N] on stream today then went afk for like 20 mins ??? then the stream just ended ???wtf ???

what’s @georgenotfound gonna do omggg nooo!!! his boyfriend!!!!!!

You felt sick to your stomach.

Oh god.

They knew who you were.

You wanted to throw up.

Stumbling to your feet, you made your way toward the kitchen where you knew you would find Clay, your phone clutched in a death grip between your fingers. 

“C-Clay?”

He turned from where he was leaning against the counter, a smile lighting up his face at the sound of your voice. “Hey!” The moment his eyes landed on your face, his smile vanished. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Have—” You swallowed, your palms beginning to sweat. “Have you checked Twitter recently?”

“Nope,” he hummed, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “What’s trending this time? Did some politician say something or—”

“I am,” you said ever so softly.

He froze, his phone going slack in his hand. “What?”

You glanced up from your feet. “I’m trending, Clay.”

A beat of silence. “What?!” he repeated, louder this time.

You felt an odd sense of weightlessness sinking onto your shoulders, and you felt yourself begin to ramble. “Crazy, right? Little old me, trending? Wild. Insane. Like, just wow.” 

With each new phrase that leapt from your lips, Clay’s brows furrowed further. You could see the wheels in his head turning at full speed. Then, they stopped, and realization set in. Then came the horror.

Oh, dear god.

“[Y/N],” he whispered, taking a step toward you, “oh my god.”

“You’re also trending, by the way,” you continued, barreling ahead as your hands began wildly gesturing. You swallowed down the panic rising up your throat at full throttle. “It’s a shame that I’m not higher than you, but I guess we can’t win them all.”

“[Y/N],” he said again, “this is serious.”

You nodded, your expression still blank. “Oh, I know. I’m—”

Something in you snapped.

You sucked in a ragged breath. “Yeah, I’m—”

And out came the waterworks.

You collapsed to the ground, the sobs escaping your throat in uneven bursts. Clay’s arms were around you before you knew it, his hand cradling your head for the second time that day.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” you choked out, your entire being dissolving into him. “Clay, they know who I am. They heard you.”

His grip tightened on you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. You sobbed harder, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

There was nowhere left to hide.

You hadn’t touched your phone in days. It hardly took more than a few minutes for your Twitter feed to have absolutely blown up with messages about you. Some positive, some negative, some neutral. While you appreciated the kind ones, you only had to read a handful of the not-so-kind ones for you to turn off your phone and hide it in a drawer. It wasn’t like you were going to even use it properly, what with its cracked screen.

The more time passed, the more acutely aware of the public’s knowledge of you became.

Your name was everywhere, supposed drawings of you were everywhere, you—you were everywhere.

You felt like you were suffocating in your own skin.

Clay knew that the slip up had been rough on you, and he didn’t blame you one bit. He had asked you what you needed, if you wanted him to take a few days off to spend more time with you. You had declined, sending him a tired smile.

“I... I think I just need some time to myself to think things over.”

He didn’t push you anymore than that, instead holding you close and pressing his lips to your cheek. For the next couple days, he vanished off of social media—no tweets, no streams, no videos. Nothing. While you busied yourself with class work, he focused on editing and planning ahead for the future. You both knew you were stalling, but right now, you just needed time.

A knock came from your door, a soft voice following just after.

“[Y/N]?”

You rolled over on the bed you shared, your eyes flickering up to see Clay standing in the doorway. The book you had brought in with you laid untouched on the nightstand next to you. You haven’t been able to properly bring yourself to enjoy something without thoughts of doubt seeping into your head.

What do they think of me? Do they like me? Will they approve of our relationship? 

You were terrified out of your mind.

Clay approached the bed when he saw you move, gently sitting down next to you. “Are you doing any better?” 

He patted the space on his leg, and you twisted your body to settle your head on his lap. “Sort of,” you murmured.

A moment passed as he took in your words. “Have you eaten?”

You nodded, your head just barely moving. “Yeah. Ate some leftover pasta.”

You fell quiet once more, simply listening to the sound of his breaths next to yours. Despite having been hearing next to nothing but silence for days now, you felt better knowing he was next to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, grabbing your attention once more. You turned your head towards him, his hand stroking your hair. His emerald eyes bore into yours, focused and sad. “Tell me what’s on your mind. You seem so distant, right now.”

Your gaze trailed up to the ceiling as you opened your mouth, trying to connect the mess of thoughts in your head into coherent sentences. “It’s just all so overwhelming,” you admitted. “All they know about me is my name and that I fell down the stairs, but it already feels like it’s way too much. I didn’t even spend that much time scrolling online, and I already know that there are more than just a few people freaking out.”

You looked up at him, your sad gaze mirroring his. “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have everyone begging you for a face reveal.” 

The sadness in his eyes only seemed to grow deeper, and you felt something warm and watery wrap around your heart. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, pressing a hand over his eyes. “I should have muted myself. I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I just moved without thinking and—”

You pulled yourself upwards, turning to sit face to face with him. “Clay, don’t say that.” You reached out to grab him arm, pulling it away from his face. His gaze was watery, and you wished you never had to see him with that expression. “It’s not your fault, not at all. When you heard me fall, you thought of me right away, and I appreciate that.” You held his big hand in between your smaller ones, interlocking your fingers. “That just shows you care for me. Please don’t beat yourself up over what happened.” You offered him a timid smile. “I know that I’m not taking this all too well either, but we’re in this together, right?”

His lips twitched to mirror yours, but his tone was still tinged with a low sadness. “I know, it’s just... I hate seeing you like this, like you can’t live your life normally anymore because of me.”

Your hand reached up to stroke his cheek. “Hey, it’s alright,” you crooned. “Remember, they only know my first name—not even my last name—and that I tripped. They don’t know what I look like.” Your lips twitched. “Heck, they don’t even know what I sound like. I think I’ll be able to live my life just fine. It’s just a little bit... much to begin with.” You shot him a goofy smile. “I might have to use Twitter less, but you know my screen time usage is way too high anyway.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, his eyes curving into two crescent moons. You felt your expression shift to mirror his almost naturally, but then the smile slowly crept off your face. “And, um, Clay,” you added, fidgeting slightly.

“Yeah?”

“These past two days, I gave what happened some more thought,” you began, “and I think...” You gulped. I think I want to introduce myself.”

His eyes widened, and suddenly his hands were on your face, his gaze focused intently on your face. “Are you positive?” he breathed. “You know you don’t have to do this, [Y/N].”

You nodded, feeling your resolve harden like a stone in your heart. “I know.” You offered him a bold smile. “It’s scary and kind of hard to think about, but I don’t want to leave everyone in the dark. I want to be by your side through thick and thin, no matter what.”

He paused, then pulled his hands away from your face. That sadness in his eyes had returned, and you felt your heart crack at the sight. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, almost remorsefully. “I know that being with me is already a huge commitment, and this is just taking another huge step...”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Clay,” you said, staring down at your knee. “I’ve been here with you from the beginning, and I’ll be here until the end. I’m here with you for the long haul, okay?” You raised your head, shooting him a wicked grin. “You won’t be getting rid of me too easily.”

Just like that, his smile was back. “Oh, alright. Only because I love you so much, though.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair with a weary grin. “Well, if there’s anything that I’m sure is going to happen,” he said, “it’s that my fans are definitely going to call me a ‘simp’ even more than they already do.”

You flashed him a teasing smile. “Are they wrong, though?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“No, they’re not.”

Swallowing, you stared long and hard at the microphone sitting in front of you.

You can do this.

“Are you ready?”

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling your hands shake in your lap.

“I—I think so.”

Clay pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his left arm wrapping itself around your waist to pull you closer on his lap. With his right, he reached for the mouse. On his screen, he had his stream loaded up, with only a single mouse click standing between you and tens of thousands of viewers.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look at him. With a small smile, he dipped his head down to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling back. Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours lovingly.

“You know, this is only about half as stressful as when I met your family,” you joked.

He snorted, the rumbling of his chest running along your back and into your thumping heart. “And they loved you just as much as I do. Once the rest of the world meets you,” he murmured just for you to hear, “they’re going to love you just the same. I swear it.”

You let your eyelids flutter shut, breathing in his scent of fresh linen and citrus. “I hope so.”

He shot you a cheeky wink. “Oh, I know so.”

You rolled your eyes at him, turning around to look at his monitor once more. “Cheese ball.” You didn’t have to turn to know that he was still grinning. Snuggling further back into his chest, you said, “Let’s start the stream, yeah?”

With a nod, he clicked the ‘start streaming’ button. Almost instantaneously, thousands of people joined the stream. You briefly glanced at the chat and felt yourself stiffen when you caught a brief glimpse of your name. Almost immediately, Clay’s hand was on yours, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb while you relaxed once more.

Sending you one last loving glance, he leaned towards his mic and began to speak. “Hey, guys! I know it’s been a little while since I last did a stream, and I know you guys have some questions. But first, there’s someone I want you guys to meet.”

His gaze flickered to you, and he gestured toward the mic. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up your courage and leaned forward. 

“Hi there. My name is [Y/N].”

You felt his hand squeeze yours. 

With a smile and a deep breath, you squeezed back.

“And I’m Dream’s girlfriend.”

[amerrierworld]

I’m Not Jealous

request: more dom!daphne x reader? Thank you!

Summary: the press have seen you and Daphne together, but your relationship hasn’t been confirmed, so speculations are made. 

Characters: Daphne Kluger x fem!reader, a real-life actress cameo ;)

Word Count: 2,121

Warnings: SMUTTT. you know how this goes :) dom!daphne & jealousy!

“People are staring at you,” Daphne whispered in your ear as she wound an  arm around your waist, flashing a sweet smile at the cameras. 

“They’re looking at you,” you chuckled, pressing close to her. “It’s not every day  a big-wig celebrity is out shopping.”

“Hmph,” Daphne put her sunglasses back on, you following suit, before pulling you to the nearest restaurant. Your arms ached from the bags hanging off of your wrists.

“Table for two, please, pronto,” Daphne sighed, startling the host who was stacking some new menus. He was about to protest until he realized who was talking to him, and the cameramen pressed up against the front door windows, trying to get a good shot at the actress. 

There was a seat in the back, away from the windows, close to the kitchen where chefs were bustling and cooking relentlessly. You would be shielded here, even if just momentarily. 

“Daph.. this is a steakhouse.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you sure you wanna eat here? You told me you don’t like steakhouses, cause of your diet.”

“Do you want me to drag you out there again?” Daphne raised a sleek eyebrow at you, and you raised your hands in mock defeat. 

“Very well, m’lady.”

“This’ll have to do,” she skimmed through the menu, lips pursing as she read  through the options, “I’m starving after such a busy day.”

A day that had consisted of manicures and a shopping spree. Not that you were complaining, of course. 

Comfortable silence followed. Daphne picked at your side of fries as you ate, just like she always did, when suddenly your phone pinged. You ignored it.

Then it pinged again. And again. A series of text messages from friends and colleagues that read OMG and you sly devil! and other sorts of teasing, confusing texts.

You got a couple of fresh news article links, and intrigued, you opened some.

And then you nearly choked on your drink. Daphne, startled, quickly asked what’s wrong.

You coughed, “...People seem to think I’m involved with.. Anne Hathaway? What the hell?”

“Oh, really?” Daphne’s voice was light, but tense. You scrolled through your phone again, pictures of the other actress jogging your memory.

“Oh, yeah, cause I ran into her at that gallery last week! Remember? You had something to present, and you got me that extra ticket. I ended up sitting next to her in the audience when you were on.”

Daphne scoffed, “everyone knows Annie is straight. She’s got a kid too, for crying out loud.”

“Okay wait, this is hilarious though,” you mumbled around a mouthful of steak, “listen to this... Mystery gal seen in tow with Daphne Kluger a week after getting comfy with Anne Hathaway... Hathaway and Kluger: fighting over damsel?... serial heartbreaker or love birds?”

“What the hell?” Daphne bristled, nearly yanking the phone out of your hand, “I swear to god, tabloids are the absolute worst.”

“I think it’s funny. They don’t have any proof other than I’ve spent time with both of you. They don’t even know your sexuality, so what’s the worry?”

“Hmph,” Daphne chewed aggressively on one of your fries. They were almost all gone, and you had barely touched them.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Daphne snapped, and you suppressed a smile. “I hate how they feed lies into the media, that’s all. There’s always going to be people who believe them, too.”

“Yeah, but they don’t matter. I can call Anne right now and settle it? Maybe she can come join us for dinner sometime-”

“No! I- I mean.. let’s not. Let’s not bother her, right?” 

You reached over and grabbed her hand, and Daphne sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder,

“Maybe I should just come out and tell them about us. I’m getting tired of this. They’re thinking that I stole you from her. When they should be worried about it happening the other way around.”

“You don’t think that’s actually going to happen, do you?” You asked, startling her. She hadn’t expected you to take what she said that way, and she was lost for words for a moment. 

“Come on, call your driver, we should go home,” you suggested, “I’m full anyways, aren’t you?”

-

“We didn’t even get to that shoe store downtown,” Daphne grumbled as you got inside her second city apartment safely. 

“I can call Hathaway,” you teased, smirking as you dumped the bags in the front hall, “she could get us in-”

A finger hooked in the collar of your shirt and pulled you backwards, Daphne catching you and pulling you close, hot breath wafting over your ear.

“Don’t say her name,” she growled. You wriggled your hips, trying to escape her grasp.

“So you are jealous?”

“No.” 

“You’re a great actress, Daph, but you can’t always hide-”

“Fine.”

Daphne pushed you forward until you were pressed against the kitchen counter. Her hands tugged at your shirt and pressed against the soft skin of your stomach. Your breath hitched.

“I am jealous. Alright? I’m so fucking jealous at the thought of all those people thinking you’re with her when you’re mine. And will always be mine.”

“Tell them, then,” you said, head tipping back onto her shoulder and your breath hoarse. “Let’s tell the world.”

“I suppose it’s about time, right?” Her hands grabbed your hips and she rolled hers against you with a slow, maddening pace. 

“Y-yeah,” you whimpered, because now she was sucking her neck. You could faintly see yourself in the reflection of the cupboard door glass, and dark lipstick was already smudging on your skin.

“You can tell them now, if you want,” Daphne’s voice was lilting, seductive, and your brain was trying to catch up with what she was saying.

“Now?”

“Yes. When I fuck you so hard that you’ll be screaming my name so loudly every paparazzi in town will hear it.”

You laughed, because Daphne was always so private with her sexual escapades, and you knew that would never happened. But you toyed with the idea in your mind briefly, just for fun.

The fantasy escaped you, however, when Daphne’s hands began pushing past your waistband.

“B-bedroom?” you pleaded.

Daph relented, but only briefly, to make sure you both watched your step as you got to the bedroom. 

You wanted to pull her dress off, but she tutted.

“Not so fast,” she whispered and you stilled. She pressed against your shoulders until your back hit the mattress and yanked your hands up above your head.

“Hng- wait- the clothes-,” you mumbled deliriously, distracted by her cleavage in her formfitting dress.

“Shush,” she said, as if scolding a child, “all in good time.”

She unclipped the belt that sat at her waist and created a rough resemblance to a pair of handcuffs that chained you to the headboard.

Then her hands pulled your shirt up, over your head, and bunched it around your wrists. The same happened with your bra. You felt their fabric wound around your hands and wrists, cushioning against the metal of the headboard. 

Daphne straddled you for a moment, the dress riding up until you cold see her lacy underwear peeking out from underneath. You felt your arousal coursing through your body now, and she raked her newly manicured fingers up your sides, making you shiver.

“If only they knew, hm?” she chuckled, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. She raised herself up on her knees, arms stretching to unzip her dress from behind, and slowly tugged it down. 

With every extravagant motion of a silver screen actress she deftly pushed her dress down, revealing her bra, breasts threatening to spill over, and you felt yourself salivate. 

Then she turned around, and you watched, gaping as she pulled the rest of her dress over her ass and down her long legs. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips bucking up at the sight. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate.

Eventually, Daphne tossed the dress to the side and faced you again. She sat on your stomach, unabashedly grinding against your abdomen, her knees spread wide. 

“D-Daphne,” you gasped. She had pulled one cup of her bra down and was tugging at a rosy nipple. Her lower lip was caught by her teeth and she looked down at you with a grin.

“Need more, baby?” she asked, voice rough. You nodded, straining against the multiple things holding your hands together. Your pants felt unbearably tight now. You wanted her skin, wanted to feel her, your body heat suffocating you in the fabric.

“God, you look so needy,” she chuckled. “It makes me so wet, you know that?”

Her hand left her breast and pushed into her underwear, fingers immediately rubbing her clit as she rocked on top of you.

“N-not fair,” you whined, pressing up again, making her gasp softly.

“I’ll decide what’s fair,” she retorted, and her other hand snaked behind her to sneak past your own waistband and press snugly against your cunt.

Your voice came out in a choked cry. It felt nice- warm and wet and her long fingers rubbed vigorously, but it wasn’t enough. The fabric of your pants held her hand in place, in the wrong place, and she was obviously getting distracted by touching herself that you couldn’t get any proper friction.

You spread your legs as wide as possible, pushing her closer with your thighs and you wriggled for her attention. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down at you and your pleading eyes.

“Not enough?” she asked, a finger slipping around your clit, but not touching where you needed it. You furiously shook your head, and she flashed her award-winning smile.

“That’s too bad then, isn’t it?”

She swiftly took off her underwear and before you knew it her cunt was settling over your face. You whined in protest as her hand left your pulsing clit and she fisted it in your hair instead. 

“Give me that tongue and maybe I’ll let you cum,” she gasped. 

She cooed soft praise as you followed through, tongue sliding out to suck and lick her wet skin desperately.

“Hungry, are we?” Daphne chuckled, her breath catching as you suckled at her clit. “Didn’t get enough at the steakhouse?”

You hummed in the back of your throat as you pushed your tongue deeply inside her and she groaned. Her milky thighs trembled and tensed at the sides of your head and she pressed closer to you.

You breathed in heavily through your nose, catching her sweat and arousal and bucked your own hips in response.

Taking pity, Daphne’s hand slipped back behind her, clumsily nudging your pants away until her fingers roughly found your cunt and pushed inside of you. You whined against her cunt, your pace stuttering for a moment.

“Don’t slack off,” she said, her other hand tugging at your hair in reprimand. Your fingers twitched and tensed above you, wishing you could touch her. 

She slipped her bra off completely as she rocked on your face. Her hand pressed deeply inside of you, wriggling and nudging against your front walls with strong fingers. 

“Make me cum,” she ordered breathily, her hips stuttering, and you pressed your tongue against her clit until she gushed into your mouth, sweet and intoxicating. Her soft, high-pitched groans contrasted with the iron grip she had on your cunt. 

Now that she had nothing else to focus on her hand picked up a sure pace. She lifted off of your face to let you breathe, only for you to gasp and beg,

“Please- please, please please..”

Daphne chuckled, two fingers pinching and rolling the hood over your clit, and you were done for.

You felt sweat and slick sliding down the inside of your thighs and she kept rubbing lightly as your orgasm rushed over you. Your abdomen convulsed and shivered through the sensations until your senses could return to normal and you saw Daphne staring at you lovingly from above.

Her hands reached forward and tugged the restraints off of your wrists. You felt blood rush back to your arms as they dropped by your sides, but you were too distracted by sucking and kissing her breasts hanging so close to your face to notice.

Daphne squealed as you nipped her skin and cradled your head closely before pulling you up for a deep kiss.

“Love you,” you mumbled against her lips. 

“I know,” she muttered, making you chuckle. Her hands worked the rest of your clothes off and then she laid down by your side, stretching like a cat, a leg hooking over yours as she kissed your face.

The shopping bags remained unpacked in the front hall for the rest of the night.