#it doesn’t fit my actual vision

[the-river-rix]

Guess who finally finished his Curtwen fic..

Anyone wanna Beta read it?

[albino-parakeet]

Maybe people wouldn’t have died if these two were better parents. /j

No, running experiments and observing behavior are NOT valid forms of Parental Bonding and Attention.

No time lapse for this one but just know I listened to Lum no Love song an unhealthy amount while drawing this.

(Not super proud of how it looks but this has been sitting basically finished for a while so uh here it is lol)

[hudbannonarchive]

anything titled like "the big [noun]" or "the long [adjective][noun]" is automatically so good. the big sleep. the big heat. the big chill. the big sick. the long goodbye. the long hot summer. the long kiss goodnight. the long bright dark. excellent every single one.

[pathologicalreid]

total eclipse of the heart

spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff

w/c: 665

this was written solely because bri asked. this is for you. sorry for not sending you my strands results. re: spencer is a simple man and just wants you to not blind yourself by staring at the eclipse.

"I am going to zip-tie those glasses to your head if you don’t stop taking them off,” Spencer scolded from where he sat next to you. The two of you were sharing a blanket in Rossi’s backyard, waiting with the rest of the BAU for the eclipse.

Currently, he was standing in front of you, body blocking the rays of the sun from getting to your retinas.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back on your hands, “That would be a great idea if you had zip-ties with you,” you challenged.

Your boyfriend watched you astutely, making sure your eyes didn’t flicker up to look at the sun. “You are severely underestimating the various items I keep in my bag,” he rebutted, continuing to rattle off the bits and bobs that he kept in his shoulder bag.

Sighing, you inclined your head toward him, “If the sun isn’t totally eclipsed yet, then I don’t know why I shouldn’t be able to look at it.”

“I’ve explained this to you at length over the past week. Even though the sun is partially blocked by the moon, the ultraviolet rays of the sun are still strong enough to do damage to your retinas,” he lectured you, waving from the sun to your face with his hands. “You remember all of this, don’t you?”

You nodded begrudgingly, “The damage done to the retinas is similar to an injury called ‘welder’s burn.’”

Spencer’s face lit up in the recognition that you had in fact been listening to him while he rambled about the solar eclipse. “It’s not painful, but the burn is a result of staring into the sun. The light comes from multiple different wavelengths, and your eyes focus on that powerful light.”

“I don’t like the glasses, they block out everything except for the sun,” you explained, you wanted to be able to see everything. Henry had already fallen victim to the glasses, hitting his head on a table while running around with impaired vision – JJ and Will were inside with him now.

Spencer laid back on the blanket with a huff, “Y/N, I love you, but I am not taking you to the ophthalmologist tomorrow.”

Waggling your brows at your boyfriend, you grinned, “What do I get out of wearing the glasses for the eclipse?”

Naturally, he had his glasses on, and he couldn’t see anything you were doing. “You can see. You could not go blind.”

You flicked your eclipse glasses down onto your nose and joined Spencer in laying back on the picnic blanket. “You make a fair argument, Dr. Reid.”

“It’s not an argument, I’m telling you that you will do irreparable damage to your eyes. This is exactly why we went to the library for the glasses,” Spencer reminded you. The two of you had actually gone to three different libraries for eclipse glasses. Mostly because you had been morally opposed to buying glasses if you could get them for free elsewhere. “This is not a situation where you can argue your side, you either go blind or you don’t.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sighed defeatedly, “I won’t go blind.”

Spencer hummed, “Good, that’s the right choice, baby.”

After just a few moments of watching the moon cover the sun, you lifted your glasses to look over at Spencer, who quickly reached out to put the glasses back over your eyes, “no, wait!” You said, seeing Spencer start to dig through his leather bag.

“I told you,” Spencer explained, waving the zip-ties in the air. Why he had zip-ties in his bag, you couldn’t say.

Shaking your head, you quickly put the glasses on, “That time was an accident!” Your voice was insistent as you collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“You two are being too loud!” Emily called from her blanket.

In a surprising turn of events, Spencer pinned you to the blanket just as you whispered, “Who’s gonna tell her it doesn’t need to be quiet for her to watch the eclipse?”

[saphronethaleph]

The Deal

“Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi,” Palpatine said. “Learn to know the dark side of the Force, Anakin, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death.”

“What did you say?” Anakin asked.

“Use my knowledge, I beg you…” Palpatine pleaded.

“You’re a Sith Lord!” Anakin said.

He reached for his lightsaber, then paused.

“That story you told, about Darth Plagueis,” he said. “You mean – that was true? He really did discover a way to save people from death?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Palpatine agreed. “And I will-”

“So,” Anakin interrupted, frowning. “How do you know it? You said his apprentice murdered him in his sleep.”

“Because he taught everything to… his apprentice… before dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Again,” Anakin said, patiently. “How do you know it?”

“I was that apprentice!” Palpatine explained.

“So you killed your master in his sleep, and you ordered me to kill your apprentice, Dooku,” Anakin said. “You know, Chancellor, this isn’t a great job offer.”

“But think of what you have to gain, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I can save your wife. Isn’t that what matters?”

“...yeah,” Anakin agreed, still frowning. “So when did Plagueis die?”

“About… fifteen years ago, now?” Palpatine said. “Maybe sixteen? Something like that. Why does that matter?”

“Just wanting to make sure I’ve got all the information, Chancellor,” Anakin replied. “Who have you been healing? Because I don’t actually think you’ve got any loved ones.”

He made a face. “Obi-Wan once took me aside and told me about what to look out for when an older man was going to try and touch me in the wrong way.”

“You see?” Palpatine asked. “He doesn’t trust you!”

“I see his point, though,” Anakin said. “Because you don’t have any loved ones that I can think of, like I say… so who have you been healing?”

Palpatine frowned.

“...why does that matter, Anakin?” he asked.

“Because it sounds like you learned how to do this at least fifteen years ago and you’ve never actually tried it,” Anakin clarified. “Which really sounds like you can’t do it, or even if you could before your medical license has expired.”

“I most certainly can!” Palpatine said, his patience fraying slightly. “Anakin, I am trying to help you!”

“Okay, then,” Anakin replied. “Teach me now.”

Palpatine made a face.

“If I do that, then how will I know you won’t betray me?” he said.

“...you’re saying that the only thing that would keep me from betraying you is if you don’t teach me the healing technique,” Anakin said, nodding. “So you’ve got no reason to get around to teaching me. I know how to lure an Eopie, Chancellor.”

“It will take too long to teach you, anyway,” Palpatine declared. “We can’t do it tonight. It won’t fit.”

“You’re really trying to help me, huh?” Anakin said. “Because all the visions I’ve been having about my wife dying are about it happening soon…”

He stopped.

“Actually, how do you know about that? I don’t think I ever told you.”

“Oh, please, it’s obvious that you’re married-” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean about the certain death bit,” Anakin explained. “It’s a bit of a guess.”

He frowned, visibly thinking. “And, uh… okay, so what you’re saying is that… you’re a Sith, you want to take direct control of the Jedi, and that’s because of the war against the Separatists, who were led by Count Dooku. Who was your apprentice… and then for me, personally, you want me to turn to the Dark Side so you can teach me a healing technique you’ve never actually used yourself, while you’ve killed the last two people who worked directly with you the moment they were no longer useful to you.”

Palpatine looked pained.

“That’s a very negative attitude, Anakin,” he said.

“I want to make sure I’ve got all this straight, is all,” Anakin replied.

Mace Windu’s commlink beeped, in a specific pattern that indicated it was a member of the Council.

“Windu here,” he said, raising the device to his ear.

“Master, I quit,” Anakin told him. “Also I married Senator Amidala at the start of the war, Palpatine was the Sith Lord, and I’d quite like to sleep for a week at some point. I’ve had a very long day.”

“...what?” Mace asked, a bit overloaded himself.

“Like, I’m pretty sure my day has had the sun go down three times so far,” Anakin went on. “Also the Chancellor exploded when I killed him. It’s okay, he was shooting lightning at me, that makes it fair.”

[writingsbychlo]

KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy. 

My Tom. 

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you. 

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this. 

So here it is. 

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating. 

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner. 

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation. 

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view. 

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently. 

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language. 

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go. 

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush. 

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.” 

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops. 

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed. 

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached. 

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer. 

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed. 

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence. 

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes. 

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.” 

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction. 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer. 

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips. 

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again. 

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.” 

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips. 

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you. 

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together. 

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with. 

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same. 

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections. 

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it. 

But I can’t do it anymore. 

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months. 

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go. 

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason. 

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again. 

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie. 

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking. 

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation. 

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face. 

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time. 

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up. 

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls. 

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball. 

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to. 

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same.  If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart. 

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure. 

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled. 

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up. 

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows. 

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me, 

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother. 

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed. 

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’. 

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently. 

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged. 

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?” 

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself. 

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this. 

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more. 

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read. 

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter. 

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut. 

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze. 

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind. 

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls. 

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving. 

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself. 

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon. 

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group. 

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke. 

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers. 

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s. 

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher. 

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group. 

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow. 

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions. 

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured. 

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through. 

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own. 

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak. 

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush. 

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing. 

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze. 

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed. 

“Wh— What?” 

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright. 

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home. 

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.” 

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it. 

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes. 

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms. 

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens. 

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

[shotoh]

all mine

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

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 9.6k+

genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

.

.

Man, what an annoying woman.

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

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

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

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

Besides...

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

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

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuckin’ hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re killing me here, dammit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You free tomorrow?”

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

“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”

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

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

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

“Hold it, I still have a piece–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”

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

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

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

“H… Hold the door!” she pants.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I thought I covered that…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heya, Katsu–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite your lower lip. “Well…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did well, princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bend over.”

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

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

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

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

“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”

“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel sticky…”

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

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

“Fine. Such a princess…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s so funny?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

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

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

[hydrobunny]

'cause he really knows me (so call it what you want)

tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, argument?, happy ending! 1.1k words

a/n: slightly different style than my previous stuff but it's been a while. fic based on call it what you want.

nagi seishiro isn’t known for being a very public persona.

it’s usually reo who takes that crown; the heir isn’t afraid of posting whatever he has on his mind. his best friend, on the other hand, might as well as not exist for all the presence he has on social media.

you close out of nagi’s blank profile with a sigh.

the teen in question is barely three feet in front of you, headset glued over his ears as some fast-paced first person shooter game blazes on. as if he could hear the sigh, nagi turns around immediately.

“you good?” he asks, dark eyes flicking over your form in scrutiny.

you give him a smile. “fine.”

after a pause, he turns the chair back around, muttering some apology into the headset.

with another exhale, you roll over onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. sometimes you wondered if nagi was purposely ignoring you when you were over, or he was actually just that dense.

for god’s sake, you were in his bed. you had been in it for at least two hours, and he had been on the game for probably three.

you eye the back of his head again. all that time on his computer was going to give him a headphone dent soon enough. hell, if you squinted, you could already see it forming.

in one smooth motion, you roll over once again to step off the bed. “bathroom,” you say, not sure why you’re even bothering.

compared to his LED lit bedroom, the rest of nagi’s household is bright, with large windows littering almost every wall. the afternoon sunset peeks in through slightly closed window blinds, you breeze through the hallway, avoiding making any noise.

you’re not really sure where his parents go all the time. you saw them once, for a slightly awkward dinner, and then never again. either way, he doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t press the issue. you’re pretty sure he’s spent more time with reo than them anyway.

(deep inside, you wonder if it bothers him. you think it might bother you.)

as you enter the bathroom, you realize that you didn’t even need to go.

so why are you here?

you stare at your reflection through the large mirror, eyes tracing the shape of your facial features slowly. is there a particular reason nagi finds better company in the form of online games? does something not fit his many likes?

you find your hand steadily approaching your mouth, and actively push it down. it’s taken you long enough to stop your anxious habit of biting your nails down to the quick, and you’re not excited to start that again.

instead, you go for something safer: turning on the sink and absolutely dousing your face. the coldness helps ground you, helps you realize that you probably should take the hint and just leave.

your phone’s in your hand before you realize, some dark emotion taking over to write a message to your boyfriend.

going home. ill text you tomorrow.

you’ve made a decision. and honestly, you think nagi’s made one too. you doubt he’ll even see this message- or even notice you’re gone- for at least an hour.

it still takes you two minutes to leave the bathroom.

the sound of your steps almost echoes in the large house. your vision blurs with every beat of your heart, and you know that you’re simply being stupid.

crying did not act as a viable solution. crying fixed none of your problems.

your fingers clasp over the door handle-

and there is a hand on your shoulder, bringing you to an abrupt stop.

“hey,” nagi’s familiar voice says. “why are you leaving?”

you turn. and you can spot the exact moment nagi realizes you are crying. his usually tired eyes widen to an extreme, then he’s stepping backward, taking you with him.

“y/n, what's wrong?” he asks. “did something happen?”

so the sobs start coming faster, for you realize he still doesn't understand- he pulls you into his embrace, and your cries become muffled by his soft hoodie. you can tell he’s trying to awkwardly console you from the rhythmic pats on the back.

when you finally manage to get out your words, he immediately freezes.

“sei- sei, it’s you.”

nagi gently pulls you away from his chest. he stares down at you with uncomprehending eyes, still so heartbreakingly concerned.

“it's me?”

those two words get your own tirade flowing.

“i don’t know if you know me anymore. i don't know if you still want me anymore,” you inhale, guttural. “i look at us and wonder if you would notice if i wasn't there. i look at us and don’t even see a couple. i- i think you might be better if i wasn’t here.”

there’s a beat of silence. he swallows.

“i would.” he says softly.

you meet his gaze.

“i would notice if you were gone.” nagi continues. you think he’s never been more ready to talk in his entire life. “y/n, i would notice- i can’t stop noticing you.”

“i don’t say it enough. i know. but i also know that you’ve changed your perfume lately. i know that you’ve been feeding the stray cat in your neighborhood. that you’ve been thinking about going to the beach. that you want another ear piercing. that you’ve started another save in my game.”

you blink rapidly.

“i know i don't sometimes act like it. but i’m listening, y/n. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i don’t tell you i love you. because i do. i love you.”

your mouth is hanging open, all tears stopped from sheer surprise. nagi stares at you, gaze searching.

you nod. it’s all he needs.

and so his entire body relaxes into you, and it’s just ironic enough to get you laughing. (and crying, again.)

“i love you too,” you manage out. “i love you too- and i’m sorry i made you leave your game, and i named the cat melon, and-”

nagi snorts into your shoulder.

there’s no more words to be said after that. you're both too busy laughing at each other, hands tangling in the other's hair.

it probably seemed a little strange to other people, having a boyfriend that didn't act like he was a boyfriend to the online world. one that didn't seem to mind long silences. maybe it did bother you, in the smallest sense there was.

but honestly, in moments like these, you were willing to let it go.

because in this moment, seishiro nagi was your boyfriend/lover/something. it didn't matter that he didn’t shout it from the rooptops, didn't matter that no one could put a label on it.

he was here. and he saw you. and that was all you needed.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (Part 7/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

You've thought about this moment so many times. Now you're actually standing there, your hand on the doorknob of Joel's room, and you can hear his heavy breathing already.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni 🔞🔥 Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 43), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 6.3K A/N: Are you ready? Let's gooo! In case this chapter is a bit of a long read for you -there's a short scene break in the middle, if you need it. More A/N's at the end, but thank you SO much for reading and letting me take you on this little trip in my mind!

< part 6 | series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s not a great day. 

There have been worse, of course. But running into two exes while you’re out to do errands this morning - one of them, the commitment phobe, with a pregnant girlfriend by his side - hits you with an unexpected punch in the gut. All you want now is your favorite drink, change into some comfortable clothes, and binge watch at least two seasons of your favorite show while holed up in bed. So when you park your car in the oversized garage at home, you don’t bother to head into the main area of the house and see how your mom is doing - knowing her, she’s right in the middle of online meetings anyway. 

You just want some quiet, so you make a beeline upstairs to your room, balancing your purse, large iced latte with caramel and oat milk, and your phone precariously in one hand. And just when you use your elbow to open the door to your room and scoot inside, you hear it.

A moan.

From Joel's bedroom.

You stop, fingers gripping your coffee tight as you listen intently to make sure that this isn’t something you are imagining. But then there it is again- it starts as a whimper, followed by heavy breathing, and then a loud groan by Joel. “Ohhh, FUCK. Yes, yes - take it, all of me, just like that…”

Abruptly you put your things on the nearest flat surface in your room, your heart beating fast and excitedly. You run a hand through your hair as you glance in the mirror, making sure you’re presentable - yeap, that outfit fits you just right in all the right places. 

Then you head back out in the hallway with careful, slow steps towards his room. It’s quiet for a moment aside from some heavy breathing, but right when you notice his door is slightly cracked open, you hear Joel moan again. “Fuck, baby… please…” 

You can hear his panting and grunting so well on your side of the door, and for a moment you almost consider not going in there yet. Just stand there a little longer to take in everything you can from this voyeuristic moment. There’s a perverse pleasure that comes with it, knowing what’s happening in there while he doesn’t know what you are doing, or whether you’re hearing him. It’s a power balance that you haven’t felt before. 

You like it.

But his moans - they make heat flood through your entire body, leaving you flushed and almost trembling with need for him, unable to wait longer. You bite your lip as you lay your hand against the door, then quietly push it open while hoping for the best. For Joel to lay on his bed, panting, his cock in hand or fucking a pillow while thinking of you - the way you’ve been thinking of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed perhaps, leaking all over his fingers, or maybe he likes to use a fleshlight when he gets off on his own.

Your first thought when you see Joel with his back turned to you is ‘holy shit, he’s completely naked’, followed by ‘he’s so fucking gorgeous’. You had already seen him dressed down to his swim shorts at the pool, sunkissed skin covered with droplets of water that seemed to sparkle in the midsummer afternoons. But it can’t compare to this vision of him stripped of everything, moaning in the privacy of his bedroom - the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing, ass cheeks flexing. The way his head tilts back as he gasps, damp curls sticking to damp skin, and you know that you’re already dripping wet; watching him like this is exhilarating.

“So tight for me always,” Joel’s breathing hitches, his voice almost like a coo for a moment, and then it hits you - even though your eyes hadn’t registered it at first, not at this angle. He’s not jerking off, he’s fucking someone. Short, firm but slow thrusts as he’s right at the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover, and both your possessiveness and desire flame much higher than you could’ve even predicted. 

Okay, so maybe you miscalculated. Maybe he has a girl that he is fucking on the side - but it couldn’t be serious, or you would’ve noticed it. Maybe this was *his* way of making you jealous, like you’d done the other week, making out with that jock at the party while Joel watched you. And just maybe this was still a way in for you. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d messed around with a girl because it got a guy all riled up to watch - especially if you’d let him join eventually.

Part of you wants to speak up, at least say his name so he knows you’re there, but it feels like the words all got stuck in your throat as you are spellbound by the view of him fucking into his side chick. You wonder what she looks like - if her hair style is like yours, her body type, if it were the similarities or the differences that drew him in -, but somehow it feels too invasive to just step right up there to get involved. It’d be better to let him notice you, as he’d probably first be startled, but then might invite you to join them. Let you kiss him, before you kiss her…

You hear her gasp, her voice clearly fucked up and hoarse, a whine escaping from her when Joel thrusts just a little harder into her, and he groans in pleasure. “I know, baby, I know, you feel so goddamn good,” he compliments. “I’ll give you more, don’t worry.” You can see him adjust - see him probably try to go deeper, but the angle doesn’t quite allow for it. Joel groans in frustration, then leans down as his large hands stroke his lover. “Hang in there. Gonna move you.”

You watch Joel pull out and move, from the foot of the bed to the side of it, resulting in a protesting whine from his lover that only vaguely registers with you. Because it’s impossible to look away from his profile, as now you can finally see his face; eyes dark and fiery, his curls even damper now, the strong aquiline nose and his parted lips as he’s breathing heavily. 

And then there’s his cock.

His cock, hard and glistening with slickness, proudly uncut, and your jaw nearly drops when you see something metal glisten - because holy fuck. Joel Miller has a cock piercing. Two round studs on each end of the metal bar that’s pierced through his glans, from top to bottom; you’re pretty sure that’s an apadravya. And you find yourself utterly captivated by it.

You can’t even imagine what that must feel like hitting your g-spot, but your body sure is dying to find out. The urge to tease it with your tongue while cradling those heavy balls is strong, and you wonder how the metal would taste against his skin. Just as you want to know the feeling of the sparse hairs under his navel, that go down into a more sizable bush that you had imagined - hell, you wanted to feel those hairs rub against your clit as you got yourself off against him.

Joel grabs his lover’s body and yanks it over to him on the bed, turning it 90 degrees so it’s aligned with his own again - but all of that only faintly registers with you. All you can stare at is how the muscles in Joel’s neck and shoulders flex when he grits his teeth, the way his cock twitches, and listen to his pleased growl at having adjusted his partner’s position.

He grabs his partner’s leg and brings it up to rest over his left shoulder, and you’ve been so wrapped up in watching just him that it only suddenly hits you; your earlier assumptions were completely wrong. Because the leg and foot that you see do not belong to a woman. It’s clearly a guy’s muscular calf, hairy and strong, that Joel caresses for a moment, before he brings his hand down to press against a belly that clearly has a treasure trail.

Just like that, your brain feels like it’s suddenly on tape delay. Everything moves into slow motion as you try to process reality, put some pieces together to make sense of it all. Joel fucking men instead of women simply hadn’t crossed your mind as a possibility; you had never even noticed any clues that he is into guys.

Before you can get a look at the second guy, Joel moves again and covers his lover’s body with his own. He leans on the bed with his left knee next to the man, low and quick whispers of promise and encouragement directed at him. Joel is so hard that his dick almost presses up against his belly, and you watch as his fingers move quickly, almost effortlessly. 

He grabs a hold of himself and gives his dick a few strokes, foreskin sliding up and down over his length, as he then guides the fat head back to the guy’s ass. His partner’s hips buck up when Joel fits the tip of his cock back inside of him, and Joel reassures him with a soft chuckle. “Here we go. Y’got it, always taking me so well”, Joel breathes, and both the guys moan as Joel’s cock slides right back into his lover again.

With his right hand freed up now, he runs it over the man’s thigh, spreading him a little further open for him as he finds his rhythm again. Joel’s right foot is firmly planted on the floor, and with his leg pressed against the end of the bed, it gives him exactly the balance he needs to thrust into his lover. With the man’s leg still up over his shoulder, Joel is towering over him; you feel weak simply imagining being on the receiving end. This position makes him look even bigger, even broader as the sweat drips down from his body. Most of all, the shift is extremely effective, as he’s able to fuck much deeper into the guy now. His large cock slides smoothly into the guy’s ass, who eagerly tilts his hips to further welcome Joel into him, his own belly slick as he’s leaking precum all over himself. 

“Open your mouth, take these fingers for me,” you hear Joel groan, followed by the wet sounds of the man obliging, sucking on Joel’s thick fingers. But the sight of Joel fucking into his lover is hypnotic, making it difficult to tear your eyes away and focus on anything else.

“Please…” The sound that the guy makes is muffled, almost a gasp, and full of worship and desperation. It seems to affect Joel hard, making him even more feral, and you see him shiver as he pounces into the guy.

“I know, I know. You wanna be so full of me always,” Joel hushes him, and you hear the moan he gets in response. “Every single way, huh? Taking whatever I give you.”

Finally you can tear your eyes away from Joel’s cock, just in time to see him take his slick fingers out of the guy’s mouth. You’re denied a view at the guy’s face though as Joel’s lips immediately capture him in a deep kiss, growling softly as he claims his lover with his tongue. You bite your own lip as you watch them kiss, reeling from the way that Joel is seemingly effortlessly in charge. The way he kisses is just as firm and decisive as the way he fucks, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Good boy,” Joel gasps as their kiss ends, and you see his hips slam hard against his lover. “Ooh, you’re such a good fucking boy, Marcus.”

You freeze, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe as your head is spinning out of control. Marcus? For a millisecond you find yourself trying to convince yourself that you misheard it, or that Joel was maybe subconsciously thinking of your father for some reason. While… fucking a guy. Maybe a secret crush?

But the guy’s breathing audibly stutters at the mention of the name, a clear indication that the praise is meant for him. His head tips back as he closes his eyes - and for the first time you see his face.

Marcus.

Your father.

Joel is fucking your father…

…and calling him a good boy. 

And your father was massively getting off on it.

“What the FUCK?”, you blurt out, startling both him and Joel as their heads flew up, staring at you. “What the… DAD??”

“Shit!” The expression on your father’s face falls instantly, the shock clear to see - and probably similar to what you’re feeling yourself - as panic overtakes his eyes. His fingers claw into Joel’s shoulders as he stops him midthrust, obviously scrambling to gather his wits. “Honey, this isn’t what—...”

“HE HAS HIS DICK UP YOUR ASS!! What is not—” You gasp as you immediately cover up your mouth, in disbelief with the words that fall from your lips. No, you don’t even want to hear yourself say them; they taste bitter and asinine on your tongue, making your stomach turn in a way that makes you wonder if you’ll ever be okay again. 

Right now you’re not even sure what is hurting the most and responsible for the throbbing headache you have; the rejection from Joel, his betrayal, or the fact that your father - who has been married to your mother for almost 23 years - is getting plowed by his best friend.

“I thought… But you…” The words start coming again when you meet Joel’s eyes, who are just as panicked as your dad’s, but also seem apologetic at the same time. Not for getting caught, you think, but for shocking you - for making you rapidly reevaluate everything that happened since the moment you got here, and everything you thought you knew about him. 

“You fucking assholes,” you whisper in disbelief at you take a step back, then another, which leads to you smacking into chair next to the dresser that you hadn’t even noticed. “You’re screwing each other??” you then scream as you kick the chair across the room, nearly choking on your tears. All you can do is flee the room and head out into the hallway, practically stumbling towards the staircase.

“Mom!!” 

You hate that this is your immediate response, but the urge to run to your mother is too strong to resist as your head is reeling. You have to get away from that room, Joel’s room, the sight of him and your father entwined in the sheets, Joel fucking him, folded in half - the way you had envisioned being with him, the way he would want you. Or so you had thought.

You’re not sure what burns hotter inside of you. There’s the shock of seeing your father get dicked down by a man, and the humiliation of realizing that probably meant Joel had not been interested in you at all. God, the things you had done these past weeks, throwing yourself at him in so many ways, thinking he was into the games you were playing. But as you rush down the stairs, it feels like the tears are crowding your throat because of what this will do to your parents’ marriage.

“Mom!”, you yell again, rushing through the kitchen to her office, where you don’t even pause to knock - you just push the doors open and storm in, your mom sitting behind her desk as she looks up at you in surprise.

“Sweetheart, what—“

“He’s having a goddamn affair!”, you shriek, struggling to get a hold of yourself. “With Joel! Your perfect fucking husband, he’s up there getting pounded by—“

“Watch your mouth!” Your mom’s voice cuts you off like a whip, anger written all over his face as she gets up to grab you by your arm. “Hey. For God’s sake, you don’t get to talk about your father like that.”

“Did you even hear me?” For a moment you’re at a loss for words, staring at her. “Dad is cheating on you. He’s getting fucked by Joel right the fuck now, actually. I can’t believe that asshole came to stay here for the summer and then…”

Your mom’s voice gets even sharper as she calls you by your full name now. “That’s enough. Get it together. I’m sorry you walked in on that, and I’m sure that…”

“That what? I need to get it together?”, you snap at her, pulling away from her grip on your arm. “I’m not the piece of shit husband who is fucking around you, right in your own house and—“.

“NO MORE, you hear me?,” she snaps right back at you, voice booming as she raises her hand, as if to physically stop your rambling. “What your father and I and Joel get up to in the bedroom is none of your business, young lady. Watch your mouth, this is still our roof that you’re under.”

The words feel like knives being shoved in your back, or brain, one by one by one, and for a moment you think you’re actually gonna get sick. “You knew?? You’re fucking him as well? What kind of twisted shit is this?” you manage to say at last, your knees feeling like they’re gonna give out on you. You grab onto her desk to steady yourself, your hand next to the large heavy paper weight that’s resting on some pieces of paper, and you shake your head as you’re unable to compose yourself. It’s like everything just keeps getting worse. “Jesus Christ, that’s so - I don’t want to know anything about this shit, this is so fucking GROSS.”

The 80 inch TV mounted on the wall flashes bright colors as a news chevron pop ups, the screen catching your eye before your mom can respond to you. The regret you feel for looking at the distraction hits you immediately when you see a shot of the Heroics HQ, followed by a video of your father talking to a group of journalists. 

“As a reminder, we will be back at 8 pm with our live coverage of the press conference,” the voice of a female news anchor chirps through the room. “Heroics’ leader Marcus Moreno will elaborate further on this week’s events that…” 

“STOP!” You scream the word without even having intended to, the visceral reaction to seeing a segment of him just too strong to deal with. Not now, not right fucking now in this moment. You can’t handle anything about your father anymore.

The ringing in your ears is suddenly loud, and you don’t remember picking up the paper weight - it’s just there, right in your hand, the green color similar to one of Joel’s flannels. 

Fuck this shit.

All that registers is the heavy object smashing into the LCD screen, the glass piece and the television both shattering with a deafening sound. Half of the pixels on the screen immediately turn black, showing only a fragmented view of your father’s face - he’s nodding, adjusting his glasses for a moment as he purses his lips, attention never wavering from the person who is interviewing him.

Despite her attempts to get through to you, you’re not paying any attention to your mom who is now furiously yelling at you. You don’t care what she’s saying, or how it’ll cost to replace the large television. Your mother, your father, and Joel fucking Miller. They can all go to hell.

“I hate him so fucking much,” you hiccup through tears as you sink down on the floor, wallowing in your pain and disappointment. “He ruins EVERYTHING.”

Joel’s POV

The panic in Marcus’ eyes is abundantly clear, his eyes growing even bigger when his daughter storms out of the bedroom, yelling for her mom. “Shit. Shit, Joel, we - I’ve gotta–”

Joel shakes his head immediately, his hand firm against Marcus’ chest as he stops him from getting up. “Yeah, no,” he says calmly, letting Marcus’ leg slide off his left shoulder. “You don’t gotta do nothing. And we ain’t done here.” 

The lights in the bedroom are flickering erratically, some spiking in brightness that shouldn’t be possible for regular bulbs in household lamps. Others are blinking and buzzing in a jittery way that sounds suspiciously like Marcus’ elevated heartbeat under Joel’s warm hand.

Once again Joel shakes his head. “Marcus. Look at me. Breathe.” He gently urges Marcus down on his back again, brushing his fingers through Marcus’ hair as he brings their foreheads together. 

“You’re fine.” A soft whisper, knowing it requires more attention to listen to than his usual speaking voice would. That’s exactly what Marcus needs in moments like this; something to focus on that pulls him out of his head, gets him out of the anxiety. “Hey. You hear me? Repeat it.”

Marcus shakes his head, too dumbstruck by what just happened, and almost Joel heaves a sigh against him, their noses nudging against each other. 

“Repeat. It.”

“I’m… fine. I’m fine.” Marcus doesn’t sound too convincing as he takes another deep breath, his head tilting upward as he brushes his lips over Joel’s. “Promise I’m fine,” he then manages, and as if on cue the lights around them stop flickering; some of them turning off, while others stay as they were earlier.

Joel nods, hums in relief as he lets his tongue lick softly at Marcus’ lower lip. “Good. She’s an adult - she’ll be fine too. Cranky, but that ain’t nothing new,” he muses, and Marcus’ laugh bubbles up quick and suddenly as he wraps his arms around Joel, heaving a sigh of relief. 

“But what if she…”

“No.” Joel moves up with a frown, gently shrugging Marcus’ arms off, then also pulls his cock out of him, ignoring the small gasp of disappointment that gets him in return. “Thought I told you that you’re fine. We clear?”, he asks as he gets up and reaches for the water on his nightstand, taking a few gulps of it as he admires Marcus laying there spread out on the bed.

It’s not often enough Joel gets to see him like this, just - laying down. Not doing something. The work at the Heroics HQ had been keeping Marcus away from home more than usual, which neither Joel nor Nicole were too pleased with. But it had been a very long time since anyone had been able to convince Marcus Moreno that he needed a break, no matter the tempting suggestions they’d presented to him.

“You’re so bossy.” But Marcus smiles as he watches Joel rummage through his nightstand, pulling out a few things he drops next to one of the pillows before he gets back on the bed.

“You like that about me,” Joel reminds him, leaning down to press a kiss against Marcus’ belly who groans happily in return.

“I do. That - and that big cock of yours. Good selling points.” Marcus fingers some of the gray streaks that have started creeping into Joel’s hair lately, wrapping a lock or two around his index finger. “Maybe a few other things that I like, too.”

Joel grins. “Good. Can’t live on cock alone - we’re not twenty anymore.” He rubs his hand over Marcus’ belly, watching the shivers run down to his neatly trimmed pubes. The dark hair is still sticky from all that precum Marcus had leaked earlier, even though he was no longer erect right now due to the unexpected interruption. 

Joel had not expected at first that pursuing him had really been something on her mind. He’d known her since the day she was born, a tiny pink baby crying in Marcus’ and Nicole’s arms, and he’d always felt affectionate about her. She was Marcus’ child after all, no matter how much she seemed to resent that in recent years. 

While her barging in on them had been more than just awkward, and would probably lead to some tricky conversations all three of them had been trying to avoid, it did feel like a relief. There is no way she would flirt with him again, and while he felt sorry that her feelings were obviously hurt, he was glad that he didn’t have to address any of it with Marcus or Nicole now. 

Your daughter has been calling me daddy while trying to get into my pants. Don’t know what got into her this summer, maybe some hormones hitting hard. He didn’t hold it against her, and maybe at some point they’d all laugh about it. Yet he couldn’t help but mentally revisit some moments in the past weeks, wondering when him being friendly may have gotten misinterpreted.

“Hey. Where’d you go, Miller?” Marcus’ voice and the gentle tug on his hair brings him back into the moment. Joel shakes his head as he runs his hands over Marcus’ narrow waist, giving his cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Didn’t go anywhere, I’m right here.” He kisses Marcus’ belly button, mapping his skin with his lips and tongue as he moves lower, running his fingers through Marcus’ sticky, matted down pubic hair. “Look at you being a mess. Just how I like you.”

Marcus whimpers when Joel brushes his nose against his cock, giving him a few small licks before he runs his tongue all over the sticky head. “God, Joel. You can’t just say shit like that.”

“ ‘Course I can. Know what that does to you.” He knows they don’t have long until Marcus is  leaving again, but he’ll take what he can get for now. Teasing Marcus with his tongue and lips, toying with his foreskin - the gasps that escape from Marcus when Joel pushes his tongue inside of it simply never fail. So Joel ignores the clock on the wall, taking his time to let his mouth pay homage to every bit of Marcus’ cock and balls, feeling how most of the tension has left his body by now. His moves are slow and hazy, lips parted in pleasure the entire time as he watches Joel go down on him. But by the time he’s almost fully erect, his hips are pushing up needily, wanting so much more than he is getting right now. “Joel. Want you back inside of me.”

Joel grabs the lube he’d put next to the pillow, squeezing a considerable amount on his hand which he then uses to fists his cock, slicking himself up anew. Marcus likes it wet, messy and intense - and Joel was never shy about using plenty of lube, wanting to make sure Marcus could take him the way and for as long as he wanted to. 

He slips the three metal rings on his right hand when Marcus’ eyes are closed for a moment. They’re thick, even around his fingers, and Joel flexes them as he gets used to the initial heating of the metal to match his body temperature.

“You want it hard, baby?” Joel runs his fingers over the head of his dick, thumbing the two metal metal studs from his apadravya piercing. He still remembers the first time they fucked after it had healed. Marcus wouldn’t let him out of his bed for a full day, eager to discover all the new ways that Joel felt and tasted and responded to him. That little zing that still happens whenever Marcus cups Joel’s dick, even if he’s fully clothed. By now, Joel was more than adept at making Marcus fall apart for him so beautifully, especially with the apadravya stimulating his prostate. 

But the rings… They were still a fairly new addition, another experiment by Joel. He was no scientist when it came to electromagnetic waves, but he knew what worked for Marcus. And every time Joel fucked him while also using his ringed hand to jerk him off, the eventual release would simply knock Marcus out. Even Joel could feel the pieces of metal respond to each other, which would almost violently shove him towards a release that made his brain short circuit. 

“Yes.” Marcus’ eyes are black with need as he watches Joel, breathing heavily as he reaches out to run his hands over Joel’s soft belly. “I really… Really need it hard. Please, Joel.”

“Not gonna slow down.” He can’t help but wrap his fingers around Marcus’ wrist, bringing his hand up so he can press a kiss to his palm, nuzzling his stubble against the soft skin. “Unless you decide to safe word.”

“I know. We’re good.” Marcus’ free hand slides lower on Joel’s belly, down until he reaches Joel’s cock, the fat head leaking against Marcus’ taint. He covers it with his hand, and Joel holds his glance as he sees Marcus focus on him - his breathing easing down, eyes becoming more clear, and then Joel feels the tingling around his piercing and Marcus’ fingers. 

“Fuuuck,” he growls in a low voice, slowly - oh so slowly - rubbing his cock against Marcus’ taint, enjoying how sensitive both of them already are. Marcus’ breathing hitches, and Joel can feel him shiver as he just lets go - lets his mind go blank, stay in the moment, willing and accepting anything that Joel wanted to do to him and with him. No Heroics, no being in charge, no city of Austin.

Joel takes his time to sink into Marcus, inch by inch, knowing that if he goes too fast they’re both going to blow in no time. Once he’s fully inside he holds still for a moment, his cock throbbing from the sensation of being enveloped by Marcus.

“Fuck, you always feel so good.” The words escape from Joel’s lips before he can even think about them. When he puts his ringed hand on Marcus’ stomach, the response is instantaneous. Electricity rolls through Marcus’ body as a thunderstorm, making him jerk up, and Joel can’t control himself anymore when he sees Marcus’ pupils dilate, as he’s gasping both in pleasure and need.

“Take it. Take me, pretty boy, that’s it - that’s it, yes,” he pants as he picks up his pace. Their mouths crash together, desperate kisses from both of them as Joel fucks him, needing very little time to get both of them riding as high as they were right before they got interrupted. When Joel wraps his ringed fingers around Marcus’ cock, he feels the charge jump through their bodies - whatever that exactly means -, setting off sparks around them as light bulbs and devices start to buzz again. This time it’s no stress response, but Marcus coming apart under him, having let down all of his defenses to surrender to Joel. 

And Joel fucking loves it. It’s his absolute favorite thing in the world, taking Marcus apart and watch him get fucked up. Eyes wide and so dark as he gets all cock drunk, greedily rocking his hips along with Joel’s moves. Fingers trying to hold on to him, and digging into Joel’s shoulders, arms, and the sounds he makes as Joel jerks him off make Joel wish that he could just record them, keep them with him at all times. 

When Joel takes a particular hard thrust into Marcus, he swears that for a moment he hears Marcus’ voice on the inside of his brain. “Harder,” a plea that’s not coming from Marcus’ lips, but from somewhere deep within his chest. “Hold me down.” And that - THAT is Joel’s cue. Because Marcus may be a Heroic, a leader for their city and justice, but this… this was the man himself surrendering, this was no longer a superhero, just a desire as sharp as nails digging into Joel’s skin. 

Joel reaches up with one hand and gathers Marcus’ wrists above his head, seeing and feeling him tremble as he nods breathlessly. “Make it quiet,” Marcus gasps, and Joel takes over his mouth again with a deep kiss until all of Marcus’ words have disappeared.

“No more thinking. Want you to come on my cock.” 

Marcus cries as he nods, arms trying to shove Joel’s away, but Joel knows how he works. Knows that he’s about a minute away from losing it. “You heard me,” he runs his tongue over Marcus’ neck, then sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. “Y’wanted me to fuck the noise out of your head?” Joel’s hand tightens as he keeps holding Marcus’ wrists pressed down hard against the bed, feeling the shock waves that are running through him start to increase. 

The moment Joel’s ringed fingers close around Marcus’ throbbing and leaking cock, he can feel that Marcus is pretty much done for. He feels him buck up against him, hands trying to break free, but Joel shakes his head as he only holds him down more.

“I’d threaten to tie you up, but you’re not even gonna last that long, baby,” Joel coos at him, and Marcus fucking whines at him, begs him even louder this time. His cock twitches hard as Joel jerks him off roughly, electricity bouncing between their bodies in a way that makes it impossible to tell where it starts and where it ends. 

“Where d’you want it?”, Joel pants against his ear, his tight grip still holding Marcus pinned to the bed. “Tell me. Use that filthy mouth of yours. Want me to come on your face?” Marcus twitches under them, wordless, so Joel takes it a little further. “On your chest? Down your throat?”

“You know… where.” Marcus’ voice stutters, and this time there are sparks flying around Joel’s fingers, around his rings. “Ple–...”

“Use your goddamn words, Marcus,” Joel growls as he shifts his hips and drives himself home, right against Marcus’ prostate, until Marcus’ body convulses and his teeth bite hard into Joel’s shoulder.

“Inside,” Marcus sobs, and Joel feels him spurt his hot seed onto both of their bellies. “Fuck, Joel, come inside, want you to fill me up.”

“That’s right. Take it like a good boy, all of me,” Joel gasps, and then everything goes bright-hot-white in his head as his body gives out from holding on so long. He buries his face against Marcus’ neck as he shakes, fucking the last bit of his come deep into him before he collapses, completely spent.

It takes him a while to recover, only coming back to his senses by the feeling of Marcus’ lips on his face - soft kisses and sweet whispers as he cradles Joel’s head against him. Joel whimpers, then shakes his head weakly when he feels Marcus start to move - knows he’s about to get up and grab the nearest thing for clean up. “Mmmm, no, no. Not yet,” he mumbles as he puts pressure again on Marcus’ wrists to hold him pinned to the bed, stopping him in his tracks. “Gimme a sec.”

He feels Marcus’ cock twitch hard, despite being completely spent, followed by a deep sigh from Marcus. “If you do that again, I’m just gonna stay and not go back to work,” he mumbles against Joel, who can’t stop himself from smiling. Perfect.

“Got a better idea.” He smacks the side of Marcus’ ass, tilting his hips up to him so he can pull out of him with ease, going much slower than he usually does. “Stay like this for a second,” he orders Marcus, resisting the urge to spread his cheeks and watch his warm cum drip out of him. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

He sweeps his fingers through Marcus’ come on his belly and spreads it over the head of the compact metal butt plug he’d taken out of the nightstand earlier. No - it’s gonna have to stay in him for a while with that press conference coming up. So he takes a quick dollop of lube and slicks up the toy some more, then spreads Marcus’ legs a little wider for him.

“How about you keep that f’me, huh? Until you get back home later.” 

Marcus gasps as Joel pushes the metal plug inside of him, hips bucking up as his ass eagerly takes the offering. “No, Joel, God… I have to do a press conference,” he croaks, looking at Joel in disbelief as the static crackles between those rings, Joel’s piercing and the plug that’s now snugly inside of him. “You can’t–...”

“ ‘Course I can. Just did it. ” Joel smiles slowly, tiredly at him, as he leans down for one more kiss. “You’ll have a little something to remind you of me.” He strokes his fingers one more time over Marcus’ ass, making sure there’s no discomfort - he knows Marcus can take it, because it hasn’t been the first time Joel sent him back to work like this. Though never before when he was scheduled to talk to press.

“Bastard,” Marcus mutters, but he can’t hide the smile on his face as he gazes at Joel. “Were you always such a fucking menace?”

“Yeap. That, being bossy, and having a big ol’ cock is what kept you hooked on me all those years.” Joel grins as he moves to sit up, groaning when his back protests slightly. “Consider it an incentive to come home right after you’re done.”

“What’s the reward if I do?”

A slow grin spreads over Joel’s face as he raises an eyebrow at Marcus. 

“If you’re good, I’ll let your wife eat my come out of you when you come home to us.” 

Author's notes:

1.

2. Just to make this very clear in case anyone asks: even though my reader turned out to be Marcus Moreno's daughter, this is definitely not Missy who in canon is Marcus' actual daughter!

3. If you read all the way to the end of this, I APPRECIATE YOU and I'm kissing your forehead (and then high fiving you). I did warn you that this was going to be a ride... 😈 The idea came to mind when @legendary-pink-dot said something completely random to me, which somehow triggered this fic idea, and she and @magpiepills convinced me to write it. @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem were immediately sold, and together with @sin-djarin they were SO crucial to me in helping me map out the scenes/chapters I wanted to write, and they gave me so much feedback along the way <3 Y'all are rockstars!!

Ditto for @qveerthe0ry and @perotovar - THANK YOU for listening to me go on and on about this, and @alltheglitterandtheroar for wondering wtf was going on but nevertheless taking a chance on me/this, hehehe. Finally all my love to @milla-frenchy and @reallyrallyauthor who were up for pre-reading the final two chapters before I posted them; it meant so much to me that I could test it out on folks who didn't know about the premise to see how it would hit! 4. I need to give a major shout out to @radiowallet whose Marcus Moreno is very much what helped shaped 'this' Marcus for me! Her fic Pretend Alleyways (Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo) is absolute perfection and one of my alltime favorites, ditto for Like A River (Marcus Moreno x reader x Frankie Morales). Cat, your Marcus stories were the first Marcus fics that I really connected with - I'll keep forever singing your praises about it, so I hope that's okay, haha.

5. Alright. C'mon and yell at me (respectfully! not demurely), I deserve it 😈 I've been feeling like that gif of Dan in Gossip Girl for weeks now, so I'm so excited to finally share the conclusion with all of you. (Have questions? Please do send me asks or put some in a reblog!) I hadn't really ever seen an unreliable narrator in PPCU fic before, so I thought it would be an interesting challenge - and boy, it sure was, this grew a lot bigger than expected. Thank you for giving my fic a chance, I hope you liked it!

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If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging the chapter or masterlist - that helps to get it out there to other folks! Either way, thank you so much for reading + supporting! 🙏

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[pop-philosophy101]

Sprawling Immediate Thoughts on Agatha All Along Episode 5 (spoilers duh)

Well, so like obviously that wasn’t Agatha’s trial, right? Like, so sorry, but the 80’s sleepover goosbumps aesthetic doesn’t exactly scream Agatha Harkness to me. You know who it does scream? Billy Maximoff, a boy born in his mother’s 80’s sitcom creation. Even the decorations on the walls of the cabin say “Westview” and “Eastview.” Agatha sure as hell doesn’t give a damn about Westview. This isn’t the trial adapting for her, it’s adapting for the newest member of the coven. Teen finally got his bonafides as a coven member once he exchanged brooms with Alice. (Put a pin in what Agatha said about the brooms representing selflessness).

Then when solving the trial there is major structural changes. In the first trial the key to the solution was tied to Jenn’s fall from grace. The trial is essentially calling her out for her terrible morals in business because she feels powerless since being bound. She feels like nothing she does matters anymore, so who gives a damn if there’s petroleum in the Goop. Then in Alice’s trial the entire solution was embracing her mother’s love and sacrifice, something she’s been rejecting out of fear and anger. In this trial, there is no solution for Agatha. She can’t go back and change the past, she can’t reason with her mother, she can’t fight back. Agatha has no recourse with a woman who believes she was born evil. Agatha is powerless; she’s a puppet in this game. You know who does have power in the episode titled “Darkest Hour/Wake Thy Power”? TEEN!

Furthermore, I don’t think this trial is over. We know that when Agatha has siphoned power it becomes purple, she even says to Rio “Let me get my purple back.” But we see when she leaves the treehouse, Alice’s power is still orange. This indicates to me that the power isn’t actually Agatha’s, this is all still part of the trial.

Obviously part of the episode is about Agatha confronting her past, because that’s what the whole show has been about. But even more specifically this episode was about Teen/Billy finding his power. Back to that pin about the brooms symbolizing selflessness now. Teen confronts Agatha outside asking her if this is all witchcraft is. The hunt for power and the selfish pursuit of desire at the cost of everyone else. Sure, that could be about Agatha, but you know who it fits better? Wanda. Even without malicious intentions, Wanda did enslave an entire town in a torturous mind prison so she wouldn’t have to confront the reality that Vision was dead. Even after realizing this, she’s tempted to keep Westview this way so she can keep her perfect life. In MoM she is willing to destroy anyone in the hunt for her children. She let’s her rage guide her to cruelty and destruction. Wanda is meant to be the hero, but she knowingly traps Agatha into a mind prison with no escape for over three years. When Agatha goads Teen into finally revealing his true identity we see he gives in to his mother’s own worst instincts. He controls those around him when he feels like he can’t control his own life. He is calmly cruel to enemies and allies alike. I think the end of his trial will be rising above Wanda’s worst impulses and becoming better and more selfless than his mother.

Keep in mind, the trial was ouija. It is all about communing with the dead. And who’s murder trial did we begin the season trying to solve? Not Evanora, Death, or Nicholas’, but Wanda’s.

TLDR: No way in hell Agatha’s trial involves Lycra and ankle warmers, something is afoot here.

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

ZZZ Headcanons

Help this game has taken over my free time I love these characters sm <3 Billy Soukaku and Ellen my beloved

Nicole: has a not so secret hobby of bedazzling anything and everything. It’s a real problem in the Cunning Hares apartment, nothing is safe from pink rhinestones and stickers

Anby: cracked at rhythm games to an alarming degree. Can do a 2 person extremely hard DDR song all by herself

Billy: I don’t know how they did it but they programmed an android with autism. Has his own version of a skincare routine which is basically just maintenance on all of his tiny mechanical parts. Can also gain power multiple ways, including solar power. The apartment complex where the Cunning Hares live had a blackout once and everyone used Billy as a personal charging port. Nicole promised to pay him in Starlight Knight merch.

Nekomata: cuts her own hair and offers to do it for other people. DO NOT trust her when she says she’s good at it

Grace: did gymnastics as a kid which is why she’s able to pull off a ton of backflips and flexible maneuvers in battle

Anton: uses actual cement to keep his hair spikes in shape. Koleda caught him in the act once and instead of chewing him out, she decided to apply some to her own hair and now they’re cement combover gang

Ben: is completely vegan and loves chilling at hot springs a lot. Still sleeps with stuffed animals btw

Koleda: I’m making it canon right now Koleda is trans and you can’t do shit about it. Also has welding as a hobby and made most of her accessories from scratch

Corin: when not in Victoria Housekeeping Co uniform, is a Jfashion junkie. I’m talking super dedicated Lolita fits, menhera inspired clothing, the whole shebang. She ofc designs a lot of her own stuff like her bear backpack and is also responsible for a lot of the accessories Victoria Housekeeping Co wears (Rina’s bows, Ellen’s shark jaw head and neckpieces, Lycaon’s eyepatch and tail straps). She also has a massive crush on Ellen and is too scared to admit it

Rina: has a fur allergy and can’t keep animals around. Which also means she’s allergic to Lycaon. She has to take so much Zyrtec before clocking in but has such a good poker face that Lycaon has no idea. Ellen knows tho

Lycaon: specifically wears the heeled boots and has his odd posture because he’s self conscious about his digitigrade legs, he thinks they’re unsightly for a butler of his standing to have. He also tries to encourage Ellen to wear a long maid dress like Rina does to hide her tail.

Ellen: coincidentally falls into a lot of shark stereotypes. She loves seafood, has to constantly be fidgeting or she feels like she’ll go mad, and the kicker, she gets frenzied around blood, or if the thing she’s fighting puts up a struggle. Corin accidentally cut her hand while repairing her saw blade once and both Lycaon and Rina could barely hold Ellen back once Corin began bleeding. Ellen feels awful for scaring the already timid girl. Corin secretly thought it was hot and would die on the spot if anyone knew that

Soukaku: despite being a huge foodie this girl cannot cook for shit. Is also physically cold to the touch and during the summer her coworkers will ask her to hold their drinks because they’ll stay cold. Soukaku always secretly sneaks sips every time they do this to her.

Miyabi: has the worst sleep schedule known to man. Sometimes you’ll find her awake at 3AM and conked out by 4PM, other times she goes to bed at 8PM and wakes up at 4AM. It’s inconsistent and irregular and a gamble trying to contact her outside of work because she might not even be awake

Harumasa: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY. Also pretty cracked at chess and other strategy games. Is also a major old fashioned guy and doesn’t own a lot of modern technology. He’s not into retro or old stuff, he just doesn’t like new stuff

Yanagi: her glasses are fake. When she was younger she needed them, but her vision had naturally gotten better over the years, so she now wears contacts, but for some reason still insists on wearing her glasses. Loses them constantly during battle.

Lucy: even though she was forced to play piano as a kid, she really wanted to be a sporty girl and play stuff like soccer and baseball. Now she has the freedom to take part in the sports she likes and watch them surrounded by the people she likes

Piper: insanely picky eater to the point it drives Lucy up a wall. Is also picky about a lot of other things, like how different fabrics feel, different comfort levels of chairs and beds, girl is a complainer and will always find something to complain about

Lighter: has a side gig as a tattoo artist, has really stable hands too

Soldier 11: has 5 younger brothers, a younger sister, and 2 older siblings who she doesn’t see super often. Has divorced parents who also liked to adopt, which is why she has such a huge family. Her younger brothers love it when she comes home and plays secret agent military with them

Seth: can’t drive. That’s it send tweet.

Qingyi: is outwardly dismissive of meditation tricks and hacks and tips but utilizes that shit in private ALL the time.

Zhu Yuan: shares the vegetables she grows in her garden with all her neighbors. Is also a REALLY good cook to the point people have encouraged her to potentially consider a different career path

Jane Doe: the rat girl has pet rats go figure. But in all seriousness she’d die for her little guys. She has a white one named Cocaine and a brown one named Tobacco and a gray one named Crystal Meth. She thinks the names are hilarious and every time she introduces the rats to other people their facial expressions are priceless

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You twist your arm up awkwardly to get leverage on the wall. Bucky’s beard chafes against your throat as he nips hungrily at you. You push your head back, your other hand around his thick bicep as he pumps his hips. Your legs bounce behind him, your feet digging into his ass as you urge him deeper and deeper. 

Your eyes roll up to the ceiling as he pounds you into the wall, growling as he sucks on your neck. You whimper and tug on his hair. Shit! 

“Hey!” You whine and he rams so your voice fizzles. “Fuck!” 

“That’s right, baby. You fucking like it,” he snarls into your skin. “Like the way I mark you up. 

You have no protest as he crushes you into the wall. You bounce against him as you arch your back and tilt your hips. You loop your arm around his head and huff as you ride him. Just a little more. 

He senses the tension and curls his hand under your ass. His other delves between you and he finds your clit. He puts his forehead to yours, staring you down as he tangles your nerves around his touch. You whine out as you crest your apex and dissolve into a spasm of ecstasy. 

Your squeeze your eyes shut as he grunts and groans. He snaps his hips up, over and over, until your bones pang with his force. That looming reminder of his strength engulfs you as you cling to him weakly and he chases his orgasm in a frantic fit. 

When he finishes, he keeps you pinned. Your vision clears and you gasp at the door. Just behind him, the front door failed to catch and an inch remains between the frame. You hit his shoulder and he lets you down reluctantly. He’s so damn impatient. 

You stumble and cup your cunt as he turns to look down at the condom hanging off his dick. He chuckles and rolls it off as you close the door. You slide the chain into place and sigh. You can’t help but wince as your thighs brush together. You face him as he holds up the used rubber. 

“I needed to get that out.” 

“Throw that away.” You shake your head. “Don’t flush it.” 

He rolls his eyes and turns to stomp into the kitchen. His pants hang below his ass. He doesn’t both to fix them. You untangle your own from your ankle and tuck them under your arm. The tail of your blouse is long enough to cover most of you. 

You go to the bathroom and let out the pressure in your bladder. The warmth of your release is soothing. You finish up and go to dump your pants in the hamper.

Bucky’s on the bed, naked, stroking himself and ready for another round. You scrunch up your lips and run your hand down your blouse. 

“Hey, uh, before uh... before that, I think we need to talk.” You say. 

He keeps pumping himself, “thought that’s what we didn’t do.” 

“Yes, that’s what I want to talk about.” You cross your arms. 

He finally stops and pushes himself up on his elbow. He turns onto his side and stares expectantly. 

“Look, this is fun. Lots of fun but it’s a bit much. I... I got that promotion and I’m gonna be working--” 

“I’m not looking for date night. I can be efficient,” he snickers. 

“Bucky, I’m serious. You can’t just show up at the gym like that. You also can’t just barge into the locker room.” 

“Come on, it was a joke,” he sits up all the way. “You’re really ruin the night? I told you, don’t get sentimental.” 

“I’m not the one getting sentimental,” you insist and drop your arms. 

His blue eyes flare and he pushes himself to the edge of the bed. He stands and inhales, his chest puffing out. He marches toward you and waver on your feet. He grabs the front of your blouse and rips it open. You cry out. 

“Relax. You got a promotion. You can replace it.” He tears it down your arms as you yelp in surprise. 

“Bucky, what--” 

“Sentimental? Fuck that. I’ll show you how unfuckingsentimental I am.” He snaps the band between the cups of your bra and you gasp. He untangles it from your arms as you stumble back.  

He pulls you close again, his hand snaking around the back of your neck. He turns you and pushes you against the mattress. He leans on you until you’re forced to bend. He slaps your ass with his free hand and drags it up to your lower back. 

“Condom--” You blurt out as your walls squeeze. 

“Relax, I got it.” He leans over and swipes one from the box on your night stand. 

“Bucky-- can we at least--” 

“No, let’s go back to the fucking basics.” The condom wrapper tears noisily as he growls. He shifts and you try to push yourself up. He forces you back down by your nape and puts his tip to your cunt. “Fuck feelings. Let’s be fucking nasty.” 

He slams into you in a single thrust. Your chest and shoulders wrack as your insides clutch around him. You moan and slap the bed. He hammers into you. The bed shakes, your legs too. There’s no stopping him when he’s like this. You used to like that. Now it’s getting scary. 

He grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head up, your back arching as his speeds up. 

“You wanna use that mouth? You can finish me with it.” He sneers. “But first, I’ll remind you who the fuck I am.” 

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sigma and Fyodor with the prompts: fitting them with a collar and dressing them up in degrading outfits plsss. I need my subby Sigma. :3

Your thirsts shall be satisfied! Two subby men right away :]

Dom!gn!reader x sub!Sigma/ Fyodor (separate)

Warning: collaring, teasing, feminisation, hierophilia, cross dressing, established relationship(s)

Anniversary event

Sigma

He doesn’t even know why he agreed, he must have been out of his mind. He knew it was bad news when you came up to him, smiling all giddily, unable to hide your intentions while asking him so sweetly, “you’d do it for me, right? Plea~ase?”

And his intuition wasn’t wrong. Poor boy could barely contain himself when he saw what you had in store for him, and it took ages to actually convince him. Deep down, he cursed himself for being a push over when it came to you, but what was he supposed to do?

That’s how you got him to wear a super cute and revealing bunny boy costume, a typical one, except that it had some purple elements. Some of the ribbons were in a cute lavender colour. With it came a pair of bunny ears and plug tail, as well as some basic stockings. He didn’t dare to wear the tail by himself, since he was too embarrassed, and frankly, he didn’t manage to do it himself.

When he walked out of the room, to showcase just how amazing these clothes complimented his body, his face was already a bright red hue. Arms crossed in front of his chest, gaze lowered to the ground and knees threatening to give up underneath him. You gulped, astonished by how beautiful and sexy he looked, then you clapped as you complimented him, “it looks great! Really, really good!”

“Shut up..” Sigma replied all feisty, clenching his eyes shut as he shuddered. He wasn’t cold, it was because his heart was pounding really fast, pumping blood to his cheeks and lower part. It was too much for him to handle. “Aww, how mean of you~ I thought you wanted to be a good bunny?” You cooed at him, standing up and walking towards him with your hands behind your back, probably holding something, hiding it from his field of vision.

The male leaned back when he felt you were too close, eyes staring holes at the thing you were hiding, putting his hands up in front of his face, “h-hey, don’t tell me you have something lewd in mind.” You faked a surprised expression, gasping all dramatic, “something lewd? I’d never, what do you think of me?” But the smirk you had on your face told him otherwise, you really had to work on your mimics.

“It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” You explained, then quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, whispering a small, “promise ♡” He stared right into your eyes, sweating a little, body heating up at the closeness and intimate nature of the moment. That’s when he felt something being wrapped around his neck, and it tightened, choking him for a split second.

That fraction of a second was enough to make him jump and gag, yelping and whining, “argHH..! What- what are you doing?!” The suffocating feeling was soon gone, though now replaced with a slight itch of something wrapping around his neck. “Ahhh, sorry for not alarming you. It looks so pretty though!” You apologised halfhearted, pressing your hands together as you did.

He frowned, still blushing. To be honest he had an index what it was, though just to be sure, he reached for the item with his hand and brushed over it. As expected, it was a collar. “…why are you being so sneaky with putting it on me, you gave me a heart attack.” Sigma complained, looking away in shame. He was getting really flustered and aroused due to all the set up he wore, the blush even crept up to his ears now.

“I wanted to see your surprised expression.” You answered in a heart beat, now wrapping your arms around his waist. “It was so worth it.” The boy glared at you, pouting slightly. Then he felt you grope his butt, and he shrieked, squirming in your grasp, shoulders jerked upwards and he mumbled, “w-what now?!”

“Where’s your tail, little bun’?” You asked, not stopping yourself. He grasped your shoulder and pushed you away weakly, his voice was meek as he replied, “obviously not there..” Suddenly you chuckled, that caught him off guard. Which is why he stopped avoiding your gaze and glanced at you, immediately regretting that action because god he could feel his legs going weak because of that look on your face. It was as if you wanted to devour him.

With a low voice, you teased your little pet bunny, asking all provocative, “let me help you grow a tail then?” And gone was his last ounce of dignity or resistance. He didn’t even put up a fight as he fell into your arms, twitching all over while whispering his answer, “p-please do..”

Fyodor

“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 1, Peter 4:8.” His beautiful voice, as graceful as ever, whispered softly while he scanned over multiple pages from the bible. He wanted to read you some of his favourite verses, lifting the corners of his lips slightly, eyes focused and sparkling. This was one of his hobbies, he liked how calming it was.

Most of the time, you weren’t even listening properly, instead you liked seeing that eager glim in his pupils. Sometimes he’d catch you staring, well, he knows you are, but he doesn’t mind. Still, you’d occasionally ask some questions, to keep him entertained, “what does that mean?” Fyodor closed his eyes, still smiling at you, then replied, “there is no definite answer, though if you ask me… I’d say sins committed in the name of deep love can be justified.”

You stayed quiet, thinking about his statement. Somehow that clicked in your head, and you asked to make sure, “Is that why you don’t hesitate when doing stuff with me?” He didn’t responded, only continuing to grin like nothing happened before leaning closer to you and giving you a peck on the lips. A sense of warmth and comfort swallowed your pounding heart, and you chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

When you glanced at him again, you couldn’t help but think of how beautiful he was. That thought kept plaguing you, making you want to see him in a prettier outfit. “Hey, I think that’s enough for today,” you eventually declared, playing with his hair as you waiting for him to finish the page. “Hm? Alright then. I take it you have something else in mind?” Fyodor closed his bible, placing it onto the table next to him, looking at you expectantly.

“Yea, I actually do.” You told him while you grabbed his hand, guiding him to the closet and picking out some clothes for him to wear. “Ah…” he made a small sound of acknowledgment when he saw what you choose for him, then nodded and said, “i see what you want to do, well, I guess I don’t mind trying.” Despite how calm and collected he sounded, the small blush that crept up his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. Hence, you teased, “by the looks of it you are pretty excited as well.”

There goes his carefully crafted facade, he let a sharp sneer slip pass, then rushed you to get out. You had no choice but to wait until he was done. On your way out of the bedroom, you quickly opened one of the drawers, taking something with you. You hummed to yourself the entire time, anticipation building inside you. After about 10 minutes of leaning against the wall outside of the room, you heard the much awaited click of the door. Without wasting a single best, you barged back in.

“And? Does it fit? Lemme see-” annnd the waiting was worth it. You felt a tingle in your stomach when you laid your eyes on him, on his almost completely nude body. He was only wearing a set of black nun lingerie, with an equally dark cloth thrown over his head. The way he stood there was awkward, as if he wasn’t completely comfortable wearing these clothes. His eyes soon found yours, and his gentle smile returned.

“What do you think?” Fyodor teased, bending over slightly to make himself smaller, looking up at you, doing his signature expression. The bra and panties fit him perfectly, it emphasised his figure very well. Though it also reminded you of how awfully skinny and sickly he actually was, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from pulling him into a tight embrace. Wrapping both arms around his waist, pushing your body against his while mumbling sweet nothings into his ear.

One praise after another fell from your lips, grazing and tickling his skin like a tender breeze. “You look like an angel.” You said, even though his outfit was probably way too suggestive to be anything close to an angel. Nevertheless it didn’t change the fact that you thought he was heavenly. “Really, so gorgeous.” His blush darkened by a few shades, then he pushed you away playfully, whispering, “that’s enough. Can I change back now?” In contrary to what he expected, you shook your head, telling him, “there’s still one more thing.”

Before he got the chance to guess what you meant, you pulled out a collar that matched his eye colour. “This, I want to see you wear it.” You told him, so very straightforward, already getting to work and wrapping it around his neck. “Can I?” After you were almost done, you finally decided to ask him. He reacted pretty slow, eyes widened while he let you do what you wanted. And when you asked for his opinion, he hesitated for a bit, though in the end, he nodded meekly.

With a swift move, you adorned his neck with a personal collar, adding the final touch to his outfit. “It’s perfect.” You gasped astonished, reaching out to the collar and sticking one finger in, pulling slightly, “does it hurt?” The boy shook his head even if he gaged a little. Because of the pull he was now dangerously close to you, basically as close as earlier.

Without missing the chance, you spun him around and pushed him onto the bed, smiling as you chirped, “now, let’s see how deep our love is.”

There he was, all hot and bothered, almost laid bare, on his back, waiting for you like a five course meal you couldn’t resist. He smirked widely, giving you a cheeky answer, “I’m sure it’s deep enough to excuse whatever you’re going to do to me.”

Bonus!

[fetchen]

i’m back so let’s talk a little bit about something ive never seen anyone else mention: red’s nose piercing. :3

when i first noticed that red had her nose pierced, i assumed that it was just something that was already on kylie’s face. but as i got a little more into the making of rise of red, i realised that kylie actually doesn’t have her nose pierced. i’ll be honest, it kinda pissed me off because it told me that red’s nose piercing was a deliberate choice on the part of the character/costume designers and i hated that it was just…so boring. it just made me wonder why they didn’t do something way cooler with the jewelry. from that perspective, her gold hoop doesn’t really go with her colour palette and, frankly, it’s just kinda boring.

and then i thought about it from the context in which red as a character exists. her mom, the queen of hearts, is insanely controlling, to the point where red is unable to eat what she wants. because of this, she takes every chance she gets to show defiance. it makes sense to assume that each and every part of her design, in some way, reflects her rebellious nature- even down to her nose being pierced. in that case, i’m impressed with the fact that a design element so small can generate so many questions about the character and their environment.

like…when did red get her nose pierced? how did the queen of hearts react? who did it? did anybody else know? why the gold hoop? there are so many questions i have that will probably never be answered but are very, very fun to speculate about.

now, let’s talk about the gold hoop itself. my biggest complaint, from an aesthetic standpoint, is that the gold hoop just…doesn’t really fit red or her aesthetic. she wears exclusively black jewelry and the only other hint of gold in her design is her belt buckle. i think the biggest possibility is that the gold hoop is subtle. well, as subtle as a nose piercing could be. it blends in well enough that her mom doesn’t bother to make a fuss about it. if red had anything else, anything that stood out more than that gold hoop, she’d risk bearing the brunt of her mother’s punishment.

the act of red piercing her nose in and of itself was a physical manifestation of her disloyalty to her mother’s tyranny. intentional or not, in the queen’s future vision via the looking glass, red is notably missing that gold hoop she’s never seen without.

what that says about the looking glass, in my opinion, is that it’s not an objective tool. rather, it’s more of a gadget that shows the viewer the future they have in mind- but that’s not really the point i’m trying to make here.

my point is that red’s nose piercing is a physical representation of her rebellious nature and her closeness in ideology to her mother. she’s never seen onscreen without it unless it’s in the future scenario where she’s become a dictator alongside her. honestly, whether intentional or not, it’s a beautiful piece of character design- one that i bet you probably wouldn’t expect from a disney channel movie of all things.