#it's not long enough to warrant a read more lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shotoh · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #bakugou fic #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut

11K notes · View notes

temporarywelcome · 1 month ago

Note

hii

i absolutely love the spencer reid smooth criminal fic you wrote 💝

kinda sad no hotch mention 😩

could you please write more for spencer reid x kelopto!reader? like they need her to discreetly get something from an unsub for them and more shenanigans take place?

THANK YOUUU

( and sorry if this isn't coherent!!!)

hey bae here it is! Sorry it took so long, I had to flee from a hurricane... Didn't mention Hotch much in the first fic bc honestly i didnt think hed gaf like everyone else did lol. Anyway, here it is:

Special Consult - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The BAU has a tricky case, though the clock is ticking, only a matter of time till the unsub strikes again. And so they bring in some help: Spencer's girlfriend, the one person who can break into a millionaire serial killer's home undetected.

Warnings: some swearing, very brief violence

A/N: can be read as standalone but is technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series.

____________

This unsub was slick.

An unsub in Virginia. Convenient enough for the BAU, only a few hours away.

This unsub had tortured and killed four girls, recording the events and sending tapes to the families of the victims.

According to the profile the BAU created, the unsub was way too sophisticated for these to be his first kills.

And it led the team to a man named Richard Smith. Thirty seven years old, with a wife and two kids.

The BAU knew he probably had more tapes, prior victims’ pain and suffering locked away somewhere. So the team came in with a warrant, turning his home upside down in search of not just tapes, but any piece of evidence that could be used against him.

They came up with nothing.

According to Garcia, that house was the only property under his name.

So were they wrong? Did they suspect the wrong guy? The BAU reevaluated the profile, coming out stumped.

It was him. It had to be him.

So how did they prove it? Did they have to catch him in the act of slaughtering another innocent woman to actually catch him?

“He should have the other trophies,” Morgan muttered, staring at the information on the whiteboard intently, “What are we missing?”

“Where else could he be hiding them?” Hotch asked, more to himself than the rest of the team, “There's no wooded area in a thirty-mile radius. A family member? Friend?”

“That doesn't fit the profile. He's incredibly secretive with his work, he would want it close to him, but hidden away,” said Reid.

“Garcia's on the line,” Prentiss gestured to the open laptop, Penelope’s face filling the screen. The team stopped conversing, bringing their attention to her.

“Hey, my loves, just got some juicy, juicy information on Mr. Richard Smith,” she began, “He had this home built in 2009, and I noticed something fishy with the blueprints. There was one room on the second floor labeled ‘mechanic room’.”

Rossi's brows furrowed in confusion, “We found no ‘mechanic room’? Where is it located?”

“The door is in the library!” She replied.

“In the library? There was no other door…” Realization hit Prentiss, “A panic room?”

“Possibly,” JJ agreed, “You think the evidence we need would be in there?”

“That could be where he's torturing the victims as well,” Hotch suggested.

Rossi wasn't convinced, “You think he could get those women in there without his wife and kids finding out? Even knowing their schedules, there's always the chance of them going off schedule at some point and accidentally catching him in the act.”

“It's worth a shot,” said Hotch, “Especially with his timeline. He should have his next victim now. He'll kill her tomorrow. Dump her the day after.”

“We don't have time for another warrant,” JJ pointed out in worry.

“Isabella Carson was reported missing two days ago,” added Garcia, “he's probably got her.”

“She doesn't have a lot of time left.” Said Rossi.

JJ crossed her arms over her chest, “What do we do then?”

“We have to save that girl,” Prentiss stated the obvious, “Warrant or not she needs us.”

“We can't just bust in there. Especially if we're wrong-” Derek paused, a grin forming on his face, “Who is someone who can get into that mega mansion undetected and get out just as undetected?”

“Someone who has done this before?” added Prentiss.

“And gotten away with it?” added JJ.

They all turned to Spencer, who looked at them in confusion. “What? I've never done that.”

“Not you, Reid,” Rossi deadpanned, “Y/N.”

Spencer's eyes widened, “Y/N? Absolutely not! She's never done a house robbery before!”

Y/N, Spencer's lovely girlfriend, was a diagnosed kleptomaniac, who can't resist her urges to steal. Most of the time, it was stupid things like a pencil or a pack of gum. She usually returned what she had stolen.

However, that was just most of the time.

She had admitted to robbing a bank once (well, multiple times, actually, but the team didn't need to know that). And other robberies like stores and gas stations.

She was a master with her hands, able to steal within seconds without a single person noticing.

“I'm not going to send her off to the home of the unsub.” Spencer said firmly, shaking his head.

“Reid, that girl is going to die unless we can find new evidence against him!” exclaimed Prentiss.

“As sad as that is, it's either her or my girlfriend,” Spencer said dryly, “And I don't know about you, but I'd like my girlfriend to live.”

“We will be right there. If she needs backup, we'll be there.” Rossi persuaded.

“Still, no. Besides, she has rehearsal tonight.” Reid said firmly.

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to silence it.

Y/N.

“Gee, Reid, maybe you should answer.” Said Rossi.

“So you can harass her?” He scoffed.

“Reid's right, we can’t put Y/N in danger.” Said Hotch, “It’s unprofessional and dangerous.” Always the voice of reason.

“Then what do we do? We're going to have another body,” Derek pointed out.

“Another body?”

Spencer jumped and looked down at his phone, noticing he was holding it so tightly he had pressed the ‘accept’ button. “Oh… hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, baby. What's going on?”

__________

Oh, he was going to shit his pants.

Well, he wasn't, but he felt like he was going to, his girlfriend sitting surrounded by the BAU as she viewed the blueprints of Richard Smith's home.

“So I just have to go here?” Y/N asked, pointing at the room labeled ‘mechanic room’. “Easy enough,”

“It’s on the second floor,” Spencer reminded her, biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Should still be pretty easy.” she looked up at him, “Baby, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Because you’re going to infiltrate the house of the unsub!” he exclaimed. Was he the only one who thought this was crazy? That this was a terrible idea? “Hotch, would you let Hailey do something so dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Hotch answered honestly, “I think this is a bad idea too,”

“Come on,” Y/N scoffed at them, “I’m like a pro at this.”

“You’ve never broken into people’s homes before,” Spencer huffed.

“Actually, I have,” she noticed the looks the BAU members were exchanging, “A long time ago.”

“Kleptomaniacs steal from impulse. You broke into homes on impulse?” Rossi asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, no. That was for attention. Anyway…” Y/N looked down at the blueprints again, “Garcia, Imma need you to check to see if this guy has ever purchased an alarm system. Imma assume he has one, to keep all his rich people stuff safe.”

“I believe I saw a system when we searched the place,” JJ added helpfully.

“Ah, look at that,” Reid said, “Guess she can’t break in,”

“Of course I can. Don’t start doubting me now,”

Holy shit, can’t she take a hint? He didn’t want her to do this. He wanted her at her rehearsal, safe and far away from Richard Smith. Unfortunately for Spencer, her rehearsal was cancelled, which was why she had called him in the first place.

Y/N pulled him down to the seat next to her, an arm going around his waist as she began scribbling plans of execution all over the blueprints. "Relax," she said simply, which didn't help him relax at all.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll be right outside just in case. She’s not going to get hurt, even if she gets caught.”

“The only reason I’m allowing this,” Hotch pointed out, “...is because I believe she won’t get caught.”

“We value our jobs,” Rossi added.

“Think of it like this, baby: most of the times I got caught,” Y/N smirked, “It was because I wanted to be.”

______________________

The car ride towards Richard Smith’s home was silent.

Spencer was seated in the passenger seat, being the Passenger Princess he was, arms crossed, staring out the window with his bottom lip jutted out.

“Baby,” Y/N said.

“Humph,” was what she got out of him.

“Baby,” she repeated.

“What?” he finally faced her, arms still crossed over his chest.

“I’m going to be okay,”

“Why did you even agree to this?!” he finally exploded, his anger and worry finally coming out in one swift motion, “That man is a serial killer! He could kill you! And if I lose you…” he huffed again, turning to look out the window once again.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Y/N’s free hand went to his knee, the other on the wheel, “Besides, even if I did meet my unfortunate demise, I’ll make sure to haunt you.”

“This isn’t funny!” he whined, looking at her again with those big, sad puppy dog eyes that literally always got him what he wanted from her.

But not this time.

She chuckled softly, patting his knee, “Sorry, baby. Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“It’s not working,”

“I’ll buy you a really nice present tomorrow,”

“You can’t do that if you’re a ghost,”

She hummed in response, “I’ll be a special ghost. You’ll know it’s me whenever you enter your apartment and somehow Girls’ Generation is playing,”

Finally, the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smile, “Of course it’s Girls’ Generation. That’s how I know I’m really in a horror movie.”

“Whoa!” Y/N said dramatically, “Spencer Reid said a joke? A disrespectful one towards my queens, but a joke nonetheless!” she laughed, pinching his cheek. “I love you, baby. Never disrespect Girls’ Generation again, though,”

A giggle escaped him, “Yes, ma’am, I love you too” his smile faded when she parked the car, a few blocks away from Richard Smith. “Oh. We’re here,”

“Mhm, can you pass the equipment, please?”

With a sigh, Spencer reached towards the backseat and grabbed a headband with a camera attached. Y/N held out a hand to take it but Spencer ignored her, putting it on her himself. His brows were furrowed in concentration, bottom lip puffed out as he adjusted the camera on her head.

“Stop being cute, it makes me want to make out with you,” Y/N grumbled.

“Shut up, you’re going after the unsub, like you want me to have a heart attack. No kisses for you,”

“Okay, but like, if I do die and become a ghost, I won’t even need to haunt you, because the fact the last time I ever asked for a kiss, you denied me, and I die a few hours after will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Stop it!” he huffed, hitting her shoulder, “You’re making me nervous!”

“Does your team know you’re both demanding and abusive?” Y/N asked dramatically, rubbing her shoulder that didn’t even hurt.

“I'm neither,”

“You're demanding, a thousand percent. I guess you just save that for me.’

“No I don't!”

Y/N laughed, cupping his cheeks, “I love you. I'll be okay. This ain't my first rodeo.”

She leaned in for a kiss but he huffed at her. “No kisses for asshole girlfriends.”

“Shit, baby, you're evil.” she giggled, “I guess I should hurry up and get this over with so I can get some, eh?”

“Youre not getting shit.” it was a venomous thing to say, but he giggled again, leaning in and giving her a kiss. He was never much of a playful person, but with Y/N it was different. She was different. And he quite liked it.

“Ah, I'm such a bad influence, got you cursing all over the place,” she pinched his cheek lovingly before getting out of the car.

The couple gathered with the rest of the BAU, cramped in the back of a van where Garcia had computers set up, typing away.

“Alright,” she began, “We will be able to see everything you see,” she pressed a button, and the monitor changed, showing the side of Spencer's head, because that was exactly what Y/N was looking at. “There!”

“Remember your task. Look for tapes, or any other sort of evidence while you make your way up to the library. Once in there, access the panic room.” Hotch began, holding up a USB-like device, “Insert this into the lock, and Garcia will be able to find the pass code for you. Remember, the main goal of this mission is to get Isabella out of there.”

“I got you,” Y/N grinned, nodding, “Easy peasy,” she turned to Spencer, who looked ready to vomit. “I'll be okay! Promise. Have I ever broken a promise?”

Spencer looked up at her, plump bottom lip between his teeth, “No.”

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “I don't plan on starting now,” she kissed his cheek before pulling away, “Time to commit some crimes.”

________

Once the alarm system was disabled, Y/N found herself opening a window and entering the mega mansion’s dining room. The BAU stood huddled together at the monitor, watching her work.

“Shit,” she smirked, picking up the fancy centerpiece, “This is fancy,”

Spencer groaned, saying into the mic, “Y/N, focus.” She was wearing an earpiece to hear any direction from the team.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she put the centerpiece down, “Find evidence. Got it.”

Fuck, he was biting at his nails, silently cursing out his team for coming up with this idea, cursing out Y/N for agreeing to this. He felt like vomiting.

Y/N began searching around the first floor: dining room, living room, other living room (?), kitchen, and then… the first bedroom.

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid muttered, head in his hands.

“The fun’s just started,” she said smugly, twisting the knob quietly. She entered the room, and Spencer realized he was holding his breath.

Richard Smith’s daughter, Emma, was fast asleep in her bed, luckily with a pair of headphones on, easing Spencer’s worries somewhat. Y/N began rummaging through her things, looking to see if her father might have left something in her room. For all they knew, the whole family could be in on it.

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered.

“What?! What is it?!” Spencer exclaimed, feeling his hands begin to sweat.

“Do you see Richard?” asked Hotch, brows furrowed, his usual unamused expression on his face.

“Emma is a Sone!”

“...a what?” Rossi asked.

Spencer, feeling second-hand embarrassment over his girlfriend’s words, explained, “People who like Girls’ Generation,”

On the monitor, a musical album filled the screen, showing what Y/N was looking at. She held it, obviously observing it.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, lips uncomfortably close to the microphone, “Put that back. Please,”

“It’s an old album too,” she opened it up.

Rossi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is what we can expect sending a kleptomaniac into the home of a very wealthy family…”

“Y/N,” Spencer repeated, “Put down the album. I will literally buy you that exact same album. Please focus,”

Y/N gasped, making the whole team jump in worry. “She’s got Jessica!” she held a small cardboard album inclusion with a pretty woman on it to the camera on her forehead. “Jessica!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His girlfriend who was supposed to aid the BAU in catching a serial killer was busy ogling over her idol Jessica in said serial killer’s home. He couldn’t tell if he was horrified, embarrassed, or both.

“We might have made a mistake,” Prentiss muttered as the team watched Y/N begin to shove objects into her bag.

“This is stealing,” Spencer stated the obvious, trying to stay calm, “Put it back, Y/N,” he pronounced each word slowly, as if sternly speaking to a small child.

“Fine,” she huffed.

Spencer glanced at the team, “We’re going to have to pat her down when she gets out of there,”

“Must be nice having a girlfriend you can’t even trust,” Rossi stated sarcastically.

“Not now, Rossi,” Spencer groaned. He spoke into the mic again, “Y/N, I’m begging, please get on task.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she grumbled quietly, leaving the room, “No fun,”

“A girl might die,” Rossi reminded her dryly.

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ added.

“It’s going to be fine,” Y/N huffed, going into another room. “Trust me,” she began to go up a grand staircase, “Imma be this rich, baby, trust,” she whispered, obviously to Spencer.

“Legally?” Rossi deadpanned.

“Let’s focus on the task,” sighed Hotch.

“Yeah, Rossi,” Y/n grumbled, “Let’s focus on the task,” she reached for a random decorative piece on the wall, her impulses taking over.

“Y/N,” Spencer said through gritted teeth, “Don’t,”

She paused, hands hovering over it, “Sorry, baby,”

He sighed in relief, realizing he’s getting somewhere with her. She was starting to actually listen to him and fight the urges.

“Good job, pretty boy,” Morgan said with a nod, “Keep her on task,”

Spencer nodded, biting his bottom lip, “I’m trying,” He knew this was going to be the most stressful case of his life.

It was a complete mess, a constant battle to keep her from stealing unnecessary junk throughout the abnormally large home. From diamond jewelery to magnets, this woman was struggling to not grab everything around her.

She finally made it to the library, and Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. They were getting somewhere. However, so far, not a single piece of evidence was found. This was their last shot to prove their profile was correct.

Y/N closed the door behind her, scanning the area. She began going through the desk, humming to herself as she looked for anything of use. She then paused, eyes on a small container of paper clips.

“Focus,” Spencer already knew what she was thinking. “Y/N-”

She snatched up a handful and placed it in her bag.

“Y/N!” he groaned, “You do not need more paper clips.” That was the problem with kleptomania. She never needed the things she stole. It was a desire she couldn’t control (okay, sometimes it was for fun). There was absolutely no reason she needed a whole handful of paper clips. But her brain told her she did.

Y/N ignored him, grabbing another handful and looking around the room again, “The mechanic room should be… here.” she gestured in front of her, a large bookshelf, “Oh my God is there like a book that when you grab it, it’s actually a lever, and it reveals the secret door to the secret room?” she started grabbing at books on the shelves excitedly.

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ repeated.

Gripping another book, Y/N hooted in victory, the book not budging and making a clicking sound instead. She backed up, watching the shelf move, revealing a door. “Fuck yeah,” she took out the USB device and a screwdriver, getting to work on the passlock. Once it was open, she inserted the USB.

“My turn,” Garcia hummed, typing away on a monitor, “Okay, the code is 9-1-4-7-2.”

Y/N repeated Garcia’s words as she pressed the buttons, unlocking the door. “Moment of truth,” The large metal door began to open on its own, and Y/N entered the room, flashlight in hand. She began looking for a light switch, pausing when she saw a small bin. In curiosity, she went towards it.

“Look for evidence, not things to steal,” Spencer reminded her.

“No fun,” she opened the box, “Shit…” she held up an object to the camera, “...tapes.” She looked down at the tape again, reading it, “ ‘Fun with Hannah“

“Same handwriting as the unsub,” Morgan pointed out, “Same language use,”

To confirm, Y/N picked up another tape. Fun with Katherine.

“That’s what we need,” Hotch said, “These were before he decided to send them to families, so there’s a chance these aren’t edited and his face might be visible. Y/N, grab a few.”

“Jackpot,” she held up something else: a leatherbound journal with yellowing pages, “Journal,”

“Okay, you got evidence. Get out of there,” Spencer said quickly.

“We still need to find Isa-” Y/N’s eyes widened as she moved her flashlight, coming face-to-face with a girl bound to a chair, “Shit, fuck, shit, I’m like actually in the mega mansion of a serial killer,”

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid gasped, biting at his nails again.

“Untie her!” Hotch stated the obvious, trying to keep everyone from losing it, “Untie her and get out of there,”

“Right, right,” Y/N reached for the girl, when she suddenly went, “Oh, shit!”

Spencer’s eyes widened in terror as Y/N turned around, coming face-to-face with Richard Smith. Without a second thought, he shoved his gun into its holster and bolted out of the van, sprinting down the street.

“Go, go, go!” Hotch shouted, the rest of the team barreling after the boy genius.

Spencer was not a runner. He was a terrible athlete. Yet he ran like a track star, his heart beating practically out of his chest with each step on the concrete.

If anything happened to her, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

___________

“Hi there,” Y/N said casually, trying to calm her nerves in front of Richard Smith, the unsub, the killer of God knows how many young women, “Does your wife know about this little hobby of yours?”

From the profile given to her, Y/N knew he was narcissistic and full of himself. She had to keep him talking. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said simply.

“I know,” she replied, glancing at poor Isabella Carson, who looked terrified, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “You know, you did a great job here. How did you manage to not get caught?”

Richard looked at her in confusion, a brow raised in suspicion, “Excuse me?”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get away with it?” she asked

The serial killer smirked, leaning against a wall in the secret room, “You broke in here to ask about my killing methods?”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip in an innocent way, “They’re admirable, actually. I’m sorry I didn’t go to you directly, I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

A look of victory crossed the killer’s face, “No no, that’s fine. I just… didn’t think anyone was admiring my work.”

A very rich man who made his riches by exploiting others. He was a dominant force, and needed to feel it. And Y/N knew this.

“So how did you do it, Sir?” Y/N asked, “I want to learn from you,”

Richard’s smirk grew as she spoke, “Learn from me, huh? Alright… well, my family is here at the moment but… some other time, I can absolutely teach you my ways,” his eyes flickered towards her chest, then her eyes again.

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” Y/N said, inching towards the door, “I hope we can meet again-” Richard put his arm in the way of the door, and Y/N knew she was trapped. “Um, I’ll leave you be-”

“No,” a devlish look appeared on his face.

“Yes,” without a second thought, her hand flew out of her pocket, and she was tazing his balls.

He did not like that.

“Okay.” she began as he shouted and crumbled to the floor, “Now my super hot FBI boyfriend is going to come arrest your ugly ass in three… two… one-”

“Y/N?!”

“There he is,” she grinned, turning over her shoulder, “In here, baby!” she called after him.

Spencer came sprinting up to the library, “Y/N?! Y/N!” he threw his arms around her, “You’re okay,”

“Yeah,” she brought an arm around him, eyes on Richard Smith who was laid out on the floor, “I’m okay,”

_________

The rest of the BAU came in after, freeing Isabella Carson and arresting Richard Smith.

His family was not happy.

Once outside of the mansion, Spencer conduced a pat-down of his girlfriend, removing all of the stolen objects from her bag and body.

“Do you really have to steal everything you see?” he grumbled, finding some pens in her boot.

“I can’t help it, baby,”

“I know,” he sighed, standing up, “By the way,” he cupped her cheeks, “You’re not allowed to help on a case ever again,”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I don’t think crime solving is my thing anyway, darling,”

“Good, I was terrified,” he nuzzled into her neck, “This job is stressful enough, I don’t need to worry about you as well,” he paused, “I still have to worry about you anyway.”

“Am I really that much of a terror?”

“A bit,”

He then was called up by Hotch, so he gave her another kiss on the cheek before grabbing a box filled with the goodies she stole, walking off to him.

She waited till he was far enough away before, with a big smirk, she pulled out a card from under her sleeve.

The Jessica Jung photocard she found.

_________

A few weeks later, the BAU sat together, viewing a case.

“I don’t understand,” Rossi muttered in thought, “How can these two rob these banks so easily? No weapons, they kill their victims an hour after with their bare hands. How are they doing this?”

“If only we knew someone who has robbed a bank before,” said JJ.

“With no weapons either,” said Morgan.

“And didn’t get caught,” said Prentiss.

All eyes went to Spencer.

“I’ve never robbed a bank before-”

“Not you. Y/N,” Morgan deadpanned.

“Well, actually, she did get caught-”

“The first time,” Rossi corrected, “Garcia found some messaged between Y/N and a friend. She gave us printouts,”

Spencer sighed, rolling his eyes, “She’s always giving printouts,”

“So,” JJ grinned, “Is Y/N busy?”

And that's how Spencer found himself with an annoyed expression in the corner of the office, the rest of the team huddled around the case's special consult, Y/N.

______

Inbox is open!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #asks #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader

173 notes · View notes

avelera · 5 months ago

Note

I’m dying for your thoughts on what is going on in Dubai with the triangulation of Armand and Daniel in Dubai because nothing in 2.05 explain ms what they(beddeath vampires) could want him to tell them as referenced earlier in the season or warrant all the Rashid pageantry. Especially not with how Armand looks at Daniel like he just got home from the wars.

Your takes are exquisite and I’d love to hear them.

Ok, I THINK you're asking what the hell is going on with Daniel and Armand and Louis and the longing looks Armand keeps shooting Daniel and I might be missing some nuance to your question but that is the question I'm gonna answer because I can't stop thinking about it.

Ok. Ok, ok, SO!! The biggest question I think we're facing as of 2.05 is did the Devil's Minion chapter of Queen of the Damned ever happen?

For the uninitiated (LOTS of BOOK SPOILERS but like the books have been out for decades, sorry): Louis/Armand is like... not a thing. At least, it's not one of the big love affairs of the series compared to Louis/Lestat. I mean they've had a situationship but they're definitely not a long devoted love affair going right up to the beginning of the events of Vampire Lestat/Queen of the Damned, which is where the show seems to take place. They traveled together for a bit after the events of Interview with the Vampire but then parted ways because What Happened In Paris changed Louis irrevocably.

The big love of Armand's life in the books is Daniel.

And we learn this in the chapter of Queen of the Damned called the Devil's Minion.

Because Armand stumbles upon "The Interviewer" and falls in love and they have this fucked up whirlwind torrid romance where Daniel teaches Armand about the modern world and basically "how to be fascinating" and Daniel begs over and over to be made into a vampire.

Lots of stuff happens between them but short, TRAGIC version is that Armand does make Daniel into a vampire and it breaks Daniel's mind. He's not a cool powerful vampire once he's turned, he's basically a vegetable, he loses his mind and becomes a hollow husk of himself. (Ironically, insane-new-vampire!Daniel is left in the care of Marius of all people lol)

SO, from the book reader perspective, I shot upright on my couch when I saw old Daniel. Because Old Daniel means we're in... some flavor of happy AU? We're in an AU where Armand did the "responsible" thing and didn't give Daniel the Dark Gift, so Daniel got to grow old and actually be a person instead of being the Devil's Minion where Armand became his whole personality and then he lost his mind.

Thing is, since S1, I've been assuming, like others I think, that we're in an AU where the Devil's Minion didn't happen at all. That Daniel did the interview, he and Louis parted ways, and now he's back to finish it. It seemed neat, clear, if a little confusing for book fans because Daniel/Armand is one of THE great love affairs and it seems like it just got skipped entirely, which kind of makes sense since no other film version has really delved into it, right?

WRONG. OK, so with the longing looks that begin RIGHT when Armand finally reveals himself, the whole mic drop moment of "Armand, the love of my life" while Armand stares at Daniel, almost seeming to plead with his eyes "GET ME AWAY FROM HIM" and looking at Daniel with such longing, going into SEASON 2 where we learn that ok, the 1970s beat was WAY more complicated than it seems, Louis' memory is very faulty, Armand has actively tampered with both of them and we DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH....?

So my current theory is: the Devil's Minion DID happen.

Armand and Daniel had their love affair, but instead of turning Daniel, which by the way he had to be talked into doing because of Daniel's suicide attempt basically, Armand set him free. But CLEARLY he continued to stalk and pine after Daniel, if he was there at Daniel's fucking engagement reading his girlfriend's mind enough to tell Daniel what she was really thinking then. Armand was definitely still OBSESSIVELY IN LOVE. And, IMO, has been the whole time.

Now, what does this mean going forward? What do I think is going on?

Armand wants out of his relationship with Louis but he's chronically, pathologically, incapable of breaking up with anyone. He used Lestat to break up the Children of Darkness, he used Louis to break up the Theatre des Vampires, and now he's using Daniel to end this fucked up marriage he and Louis are in.

Armand is doing this first by consenting to renew the interview, Louis gets a walk down memory lane, remembers how much he loves Lestat. Not to solidify their bond with how good things are now, but to break it up with nostalgia.

Armand is also going to reveal things he's hidden from Louis, I think. Like the fact Armand killed Claudia. I think right now they're both operating under the excuse that Santiago and the coven did it in defiance of Armand but that is simply not true, Armand ordered her death to get Louis all to himself. But (book canon) her death broke Louis so basically Armand destroyed what he wanted in Louis in the gaining of him.

Armand also misses Daniel. He's doing the classic passive lover thing, using the next lover to get rid of the current one. That's why he picked Daniel specifically as the vehicle of his liberation. Boy wants to get white knighted in the most fucked up way possible. Evidence: every single painfully longing, puppy dog look he shoots Daniel's way and how those looks only get more intense the more Louis waxes poetic about how great the Loumand relationship is.

Armand appears as Rashid in order to establish for plausible deniability for Louis that he DIDN'T have a relationship with Daniel OR, if Louis knows about it, that he really did do as promised and wiped Daniel's mind. Look, Daniel doesn't even remember him! When he's standing right there! Pretending to be Rashid! He definitely didn't summon his former lover here to break up Louis and him, obviously this is JUST about Louis' desire to do the interview haha, definitely not trying to bring his old ex to break up his current relationship the guy doesn't even remember who he is.

In conclusion: Armand still wants to fuck that boy old man. And he wants to get rid of Louis by making Louis break up with him because that's how Armand rolls. And that's why this whole ridiculous pantomime is happening, because Armand will never, ever be the active party in the breakup because the boy is way, way too fucked up by his supremely fucked up life up to this point to ever be the initiator. Instead he will always, always manipulate those around him to do what he wants.

#iwtv #iwtv spoilers #loumand #the devil's minion #daniel molloy #vampire chronicles #iwtv meta

111 notes · View notes

skania · 5 months ago

Text

OnK Chapter 152

Soooo as someone who reads this for Akane and for Akane only, I have to say that I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about her role in the upcoming arc.

We're entering the final arc and she has yet to get her second volume cover. If she doesn't get Volume 15 (and I'm praying she doesn't), then that should mean that whatever happens in the upcoming volumes (the final volumes!) will involve her enough to warrant saving her second cover to this late in the game.

We're entering the final arc and she just narrated the lead-up to it.

We're entering the final arc and it's happening right alongside the Second Season, which is the season that will cover most of Akane's important chapters. So if Aka wants to deliver parallels, then there's a lot of potential for Akane to be involved.

...Watch Mengo and Aka stick her on the cover of Volume 15 and call it a day 🤡 But for now, I'll keep praying that we get a Goro/Aqua cover so that Akane is free to be used in better volumes.

I don't have much to say about the chapter this time around. I think we all knew that Aka was getting ready to end the manga, so I for one was happy to see that we're entering the final arc. The sooner we're freed, the better!

It's hard to gauge how long this arc will be, but I'd bet on ~30 chapters plus an Epilogue Arc. Coincidentally, there are exactly 28 weeks left until Christmas. In the manga, they are in November right now and Kana's Graduation (the most important moment in the manga, apparently) will take place on Christmas. So I can totally see Aka wanting his fictional Christmas to happen during, well, Christmas.

If he does it, then we could be getting 3 more volumes worth of content plus 1 volume for the Epilogue. Maybe.

Or maybe he will try to rush it and end it even sooner so that whoever gets hurt gets hurt when the anime adapts Chapters 64 - 65. That would be so rushed even for his standards that it would be wild, but anything is possible when it comes to bad writing lmao

Leaving that aside, look at my girl.

I love her. I love her so much. She has got quite a few reasons to be making this face, IMO.

Ruby was able to find a peaceful way to have her revenge and is thus ready to start healing, and the answer she found is healing those around her, too. Like Gotanda and Kaburagi.

Ai's heart was presumably portrayed in an accurate fashion, which is sure to pull at her hearstrings.

And considering that Aqua was the one who edited the movie, I think it says something about his current disposition that he respected Ruby's take and left the movie as it is, so that may be giving Akane another reason to smile.

Speaking about Gotanda and Kaburagi, I feel like their conversation foreshadows a lot of what this final arc will be dealing with.

Making amends, overcoming regrets and moving towards the future...

... people lying to themselves and "bottling themselves up"...

yet still holding out onto hope, deep down, of being able to fulfill the dreams that they have been denying themselves of all along.

This comment in particularly reminded me so much of Aqua lol

Which takes me to: Aka's writing is so clumsy that his star changing colors every other chapter comes across as flip-flopping 😂

Back when his stars briefly became white only to turn black again, it served a purpose. It showed that while Ruby's words pacified the "Goro" side of him, he hadn't fully healed yet. If Aqua having his white star again is meant to signify that Kana's words managed to pacify the "Aqua" side of him, then... why in the world didn't we see his eyes go white last chapter? 🤡 If Kana is the reason why Aqua seems to have hopes for the future now, why not show it?

For my own sanity, I have to believe something happened in the time-skip. Maybe editing the movie was actually cathartic or something, who knows. I'm not even going to theorize anything about this, because the writing is giving me whiplash lmao so I'm just going to take a moment to point out that while Mengo took the time to give Aqua the haircut he is supposed to have here as per the prologue, she left out the piercing.

And I find that kind of funny, honestly, that this is where Aka seemingly draws the line. With all the stuff that Aka off-panels, Aqua getting a random piercing off-panel wouldn't have been shocking at all 😂

Another thing I found funny:

How many times does Aka need to repeat the same thing? Does he think our attention span is that short? 😭 Not to mention these words feel empty right now because he just went on a data with Kana with zero issue. Apparently, for Aka keeping his distance is only a thing if it involves making sure Aqua interacts with Akane as little as possible lmao

Oh, right!

How could I forget the big twist!

Wake me up when Kamiki interviews Akane 😂

#fandom: onk #if Akane doesn't get the Vol 15 cover I'll be so happy I swear #also notice how the final arc is starting exactly one week before the second season airs #aka and his obsession with timing #aka and his silly twists that he thinks are super smart #aka and his inconsistencies #oh aka

40 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! Congrats on 10k, that is incredible! Can I request a 💌 from the Darkling? I'm a hospital pharmacy technician. I'm loyal to a fault, stubborn, feisty, and I find I care a lot. Even about people I don't know. I spend my free time either reading, writing, or gaming. I prefer the cold over the heat. Ummm I can't think of anything else lol hopefully this is enough! If not, let me know and I'll try again 🥰

thank you so much!

masterlist

Moonlight dapples the grounds of the Little Palace as you stroll through the darkened paths of the surrounding gardens. You’ve just emerged from a long session in the medical rooms of the Grisha; as one of Ravka’s best Healers, you’re constantly kept busy. It’s good to be needed, but it’s also good to be alone, for once, allowed to breathe deeply and let the stress of the day fade away the farther you walk.

As it turns out, you won’t be able to take some time to yourself after all. At the end of the garden path, shadows under a sturdy oak coalesce into a dark-robed man who strides out to greet you. Were you any other Grisha operating under the fine roofs of the Little Palace, the sight of the Darkling on a night like this would startle you. However, he’s grown on you since you first arrived in Os Alta, and you find yourself more willing to let your guard down around him than expected.

Indeed, it seems the Darkling feels the same way. He turns to walk by your side, letting out a dry chuckle as he does. “You know, every other exhausted Grisha is currently seeking refuge in front of a roaring fire, yet here I find you purposefully keeping yourself out in the cold.”

You smile. “I like the cold, moi soverenyi.”

“And it likes you,” the Darkling muses. “I cannot blame you for seeking peace beyond the walls of the Little Palace. I value all of the souls in the Second Army, but it does grow quite busy, does it not?”

“It does,” you agree. “Still, I’ve grown fond of how busy our halls can be. Our soldiers are good people.”

“Just our soldiers?” The Darkling asks. He keeps pace perfectly, as if he had made your every movement the primary focus of his studies.

“Some more than others,” you admit.

It’s too dark to see clearly, but you swear the Darkling’s quartz eyes flash with something you cannot name. “Oh? Which ones?”

You smile to yourself, deliberately savoring the silence over a few steps before you reveal yourself. “Perhaps the ones I walk with, late at night. Do you think they’re to be trusted?”

Something distinctly like triumph appears on the Darkling’s face. “I do. You had better keep them close, however, so you can determine if that trust is warranted.”

“That,” you drawl, “is exactly what I plan on doing.”

Overhead, the stars wheel through the sky. On the moonlit ground, the Darkling leads you further into the gardens. It has been a long day, but at last, you have peace.

requested by @mattmurdocksscars, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @blondsauduun, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen, @a-taken-url

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#the darkling #grishaverse #10k celebration

22 notes · View notes

tmwcs · 6 months ago

Note

Reina this has been on my mind ever since I read the seven series what is your story or explanation of the Devil having heeeeungs appearance like as in appearing as a Korean man along with his brothers. I’ve always been curious about that and I am dying to hear what your thoughts are on it. I love seven so much and heelel and Levi have me on my knees. 🤒🥴

Actually, this is something I’ve thought about ever since I drafted the series. Your curiosity is warranted, back when I initially drafted the storyline, I knew I was going to have to provide an explanation, and I am happy to do it now, and take a break from all these lovely requests in my inbox lol.

Shape of You

Warnings: short Drabble, canon, historical references (some factual and some fiction), yandere love, some dark concepts, devil Heeseung is in love with you, some fluff, hints of smutty things.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You lean back, relaxing the blades of your shoulders against his broad chest. His partially gloved hand swoops from behind and plays with your hair over collar bone. His black blouse remains unbuttoned, allowing you to fall into the soft, white long sleeve and the loose tie around his neck. “Mmhmm.” He hums out tenderly as his hand taps against your belly; tips of his fingers walking up and down, trailing the northern and southern borders of your abdominal canvas. The both of you enjoying a moment of leisure, relaxing on his throne and gazing up at the stars. It was moments such as this, that made you realize the devil truly meant it when he says that you are everything, and that he loves you more than anything.

“Do you purposely portray yourself as an Asian male or is that truly how you were created?”

You were blunt, which he always preferred. He always reassured you that he would be truthful, and that you never had to feel discomfort when asking him anything your mind yearns to inherit. Tilting his face to the side, he admires the depth of your side profile and kisses the center of your ear, gently whispering.

“What makes you think I would portray myself as anything other than what is the truth?”

He partially jests as he chuckles against your ear canal. One of the gestures he was fond of doing, because he knew it tickled yet brought a pleasurable sense inside you. “It’s just—ah…” a subtle gasp escapes your lips as he slowly licks your neck, pushing the tip of his nose into your ear as he gently nibbles your jawline. “Mmhmm…you were saying, baby?” He antagonizes as he keeps his oral movements going, encouraging for you to finish your statement.

“Before you brought me here…you know, all those churches in the world talked about how the devil would shapeshift and deceive people…so I just…didn’t know if y-you…were really showing…y-your trrrrrue—ah!”

You help as he picks up the pace and sucks in your skin, harshly pinching it between teeth as he leaves discoloration and a subtle bite mark. Meanwhile his hand slips into the high slit of your silky gown, taking advantage of the fact that he never allowed you to eat panties, and began probing your slit. You desperately slap your hands on his forearms as you stabilize your posture. He chuckles in seeing you struggle as you lean away a tad, just so you could get him to answer the question without fondling you the entire time.

His chuckling transfers to a deep sigh of ceasefire, amused by your gasping for air as you propped yourself high and straight, yet your derrière looked even more appealing as it plumps against his throbbing bulge. But he figured he owed you an answer…for now.

“What else did the Bible tell you? Hmm? Did it tell you how bad the devil was? That I violated maidens and killed off Gods angels?” He releases a laconic scoff. “What a joke.”

“S-so…it’s all not true?” You inquired as you finally composed your breathing, and felt safe enough to lean back once more, which he relished and expressed contentment by embracing your waist, interlocking his fingers around your bellybutton. Unbeknownst to you, he really was doing his best to behave and display some self restraint as he continued to answer.

“Well beautiful, there’s a lot that goes into it. But let’s just say that a lot of the things that were drafted about me were over exaggerated, or drafted untruthfully, all for the mere sake of installing fear—fear to control.” He takes your hand in his palm and tenderly enclosed it. “But that’s a conversation for another time.” He whispered against your cheek.

“As for your question, this is how I was brought into life.”

“Any particular reason why you were made to specifically look and speak Korean?”

He smirks. “Well, truth be told, my former master loves diversity. Before he created mortals, he used his angels to form a baseline on what he wanted humans to replicate. There are many that come in all varieties. It just so happens my brothers and I all came out reflecting an oriental appearance. As for the language well, you already know we speak all dialects, even the lost ancient ones.”

Whispering in Arabic, he professes sweet words of love and tenderness in the language. “See? And now that you you’re my wife, you understand and speak all that of which exists.”

It’s true. The moment he brought you back to life as his Queen, you inherited a wide list of inhuman abilities, one of them was the suddenness of speaking and understanding all languages.

You spoke back in ancient Egyptian dialect, responding subtly. He smiles. “Good girl.”

“So, did he create all his other angels the same way?” He leans his head back, resting it against the grand head rest of the throne as he gazes and admires the outline of your profile. “Some. Some do them took after the fair skinned with hair and eyes to match, while others came out bolder and exotic in appearance. Michael, for instance, was created with a Mediterranean appearance, contrary to what mortals would imagine.”

“The arch angel Michael?” You asked in shock. He nods.

“My former master had an idea of how he wanted humans to become, but really couldn’t think of any other way to form their appearance. So he used his angels and guide.”

“But I thought the Bible described angels to appear differently…it described them as nonhuman entities, just a large eye with six wings that rotated.”

He smirks upon your oblivious nature. He has so much to teach you. “The original angels, such as myself, served as the original draft of what humans should take after. Those created after are nothing like us…you remember.” He raises a brow as he takes an expectant tone. You do remember those humanoid metallic figures, whom appeared more monstrous than anything else.

“Why don’t we take a walk and talk about all that’s in your mind. Whatever questions you have, we can spend the day feeding your curiosity…” he grips your waist and gently lifts you, only to slowly drag you back down and ride your slit against his lengthy bulge. “In a little while…hm baby?”

You fling your head back over his shoulder. “Uh…uh-huh.”

Moving you back and forth, he forced you to take on a riding momentum as he sets the pace; his hands never losing grip along your waistline. Your hands slam on the elegant rails of the arm chair. You didn’t care what they landed on, you just needed something to grip and dig your fingers into. “Fuuuuuuuck yeeeeeeah.” He whispers against your ear, dragging out his tone to be deep and creaky as he continued to move your hips in waving motion.

“Relax baby, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear…I’ll answer all of your questions…just let me fuck you first.

It’s too bad your mind went entirely blank. By the time he was finished with you, you were senselessly incoherent and just a moaning mess, fucked too dumb to think of anything other than the soreness of your opening struggling to close after the constant thrusting, and the juices flowing out, stringing your thighs. When all was said and done, nearly hours after the initial conversation, the only lesson you learned from all of this was that you should never show the devil how curious you can get….because he’ll get curious right back. And the devil doesn’t sleep, until his curiosity is no longer peaked.

- Fin

24 notes · View notes

tyxaar-fics · 9 months ago

Text

I wrote a thing vaguely based on Scar’s tweets recounting Grian’s fishing addiction lol.

Fishing spot

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: GoodTimesWithScar & Cubfan135, Grian & GoodTimesWithScar, Cubfan135 & Grian Characters: GoodTimesWithScar, Grian, Cubfan135

If there was anyone who knew what being possessed looked like, it was Hermitcraft's resident Vex population.

"He's still at it, still fishing."

Scar adjusted his binoculars from his perch atop Magic Mountain, eying up where his friend stood unmoving by the inlet. He'd been at it for weeks now, the last break Grian took was to build a little pier space for more fishing, and it was around that point that his suspicions got strong enough to warrant a proper investigation. So, he called in Cub for company.

"That makes it... three days at this point, three days of fishing without breaks. No sleeping, either." Cub muttered as he made a note in a little chart they were putting together. Scar didn't think it was needed, but a record didn't hurt he supposed.

Grian pulled in something, a salmon? Certainly a fish of some kind, and dumped it in a barrel before throwing his cast again. Some of their friends occasionally joined him in his fishing, (Gem seemed strangely into it as well, something else to investigate.) but other than that, everyone was running around, making traps, mining, and were just generally too busy feeling the high of a new world to really notice just how strange and off-seeming Grian was being. Even when he wasn't fishing, he seemed to itch to go back to it, a weird pull towards the ocean. He always carried his rod and tackle box around now.

Scar put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes, he probably shouldn't stare through them for so long, but this was fascinating.

"I told you Cub, he's possessed! Do you think whatever's got him is also behind Big Salmon?"

That got an eyeroll out of his friend. "Nah man that’s just a joke that got out of hand."

"Well, that’s just what Big Salmon wants you to think."

Cub chuckled slightly at the comeback, leaning back on the grassy cliff.

"That's some definite possession right there though. He seems to have some partial control in more lucid moments, but the ocean’s got him good."

Scar blew a cherry petal from his nose and flopped down on the grass as well.

"I told you the fishing wasn't normal. You know Cub, I'm surprised you're not trying to get your claws on whatever's got theirs in Grian given your track record.”

As they chatted absentmindedly on the mountaintop, it occurred to Scar that anyone else would probably be taking the situation more seriously. After all, a friend of theirs had been possessed by some strange entity binding him to the ocean and it clearly didn't care about Grian's wellbeing, given that he hadn't slept in three days and only ate raw fish. Every part of this should be concerning.

But, Scar and Cub were exactly the wrong people to get concerned. After all, it'd been years since their Pact with the Vex and those first couple times waking up 500 blocks from their beds and panicking, and the feeling of giving in to the Hunger when it got too much… It was old news, that. The Convex were intimately familiar with the feeling of drifting to the back of your head and letting something else take your body and mind for itself, as well as the strange empty euphoria that came with it. Eventually, they just... got used to being possessed every now and again. It was just how life came and went now. Perhaps it was why Scar so eagerly gave in to the Boogey curse and red haze when they came during the games.

"Fishing is fun, but I’m good. I also don’t think the Vex would like me to be taken by the ocean." Cub gave another eyeroll and went back to reading through their Grian fishing notes again.

There was an argument to be made that his fellow Vex had gotten addicted to it, the feeling of being possessed. He denied it, but Scar knew better than most. After all, he seemed positively eager to let himself be taken by the Skulk, the infection spreading and taking root far quicker than one would expect. And a similar situation also happened with the Pharaoh. Not even mentioning that when Demise came both times Cub went overboard, he gave in to the violence and the traps. Scar could practically feel the buzzing bloodied magic wrapping its claws around his friend's mind.

Regardless, this wasn’t them this time, it was Grian. He was new to the whole thing. Scar frowned slightly and sat back up to take another look at his angler friend.

”Do you think we should be more worried?”

��Hm?” Cub paused his note-taking to glance over.

“Do you think we should be worried that Grian’s possessed?” He waved towards the pier, where Grian was busy reeling in a particularly stubborn catch. ”I mean, it doesn’t seem to be taking good care of his body.”

Cub seemed to take some pause and consider that fact, staring at Grian for a few seconds. “Uuh maybe? I dunno how worried we should be, Scar. If he gets that enchantment he wants and doesn’t stop the fishing it might be good to intervene.”

He gave a nod in agreement. ”Sounds like a plan.”

Scar then flopped back down on the cherry-scattered grass, letting the sun dance through the petals falling on his face and taking in the soft evening light. Cub and him would continue their watch from from atop the cliff and keep an eye on any developments for a while. Although, now seemed like a perfect time for a nap amongst the blossoms.

After all, it’s rude to try and take away what something else had claimed for itself. The ocean could keep Grian for now.

#grian #grianmc #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft fanfic #convex #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #hermitblr

53 notes · View notes

sweet-demiboi · 2 years ago

Text

Billy Hargrove x Russian!Male!Reader

Part 3 (pt. 1 and 2 on my masterlist -> making Billy question his sexuality)

Warnings: the word slut is used, but not in a degrading way, also Billy is maybe a little OOC because he's really happy (lol, poor guy), there is no reference to smut, Billy only puts his hands on your ass while making out (because it's hot okay), so it could be read as asexual (depends on what you're comfortable with) and poc, Ig, also you have two moms because I said so, you and Billy are smoking together (again), there's one mention of your hair being long enough to tie it

Summary: You and Billy have your first date at an Italian place. You connect over various topics.

Needless to say, you were all fidgety in your last class (physics, another one of your absolute favorites). You weren't used to your own behavior at all - never had you ever felt such excitement before. Sure, you had been excidetly waiting for school to end so you could make out with a cute boy behind a police station (for the extra-excitement). But you had never had an actual date before. So, there was your perfect reason for playing around with your pencils, wobbling your knee and looking at the clock every five minutes.

The bubbly feeling inside your stomach only grew stronger with the more time that passed, and you happened to be the first to make your way out of that goddamn classroom. You didn't exactly run down the hallways but you were walking noticeably faster than everyone else you crossed ways with, which made you remind yourself to stay cool.

You rounded a corner and found yourself to be standing in front of one of the mirrors in the boys' bathroom. You tied your hair to a small ponytail, you had always liked that. Next, you washed your face with some cold water and also refilled your waterbottle. You took a few gulps to calm yourself and also: hygenie. Then you made your way down to the car park, where you assumed Billy to be waiting for you.

You had been right. There he was, leaning against his camaro, cigarette between his lips - you thought of him to be incredibly sexy in that particular moment.

"Thought you had forgotten it already", Billy greeted you. You could see how some of the tension left his posture when he had seen you walking closer.

"Would never forget a boy with such a nice ass", you smiled at him, he grunted but couldn't hide the small smirk settling onto his lips.

"Sorry, I'm late", you apologised, just to make sure he wouldn't feel bad or forgotten or something like that.

"No problem", he mumbled and gestured for you to get inside his car, which was an offer you gladly took. It smelled like smoke and leather inside there - you weren't opposed to that circumstance.

"You will have to pick where we eat. I don't know the city that well, yet", Billy started the engine. Immediately there was some metal music playing, you weren't bothered by it, just didn't expect to know any songs.

Your backpack sat on your lap. Some of the students outside looked weirdly at the two of you, but you decided to not be bothered by it.

"If you can even call it that. 's basically nothing more than one big street", Billy huffed "There's only one place worth going to"

You looked at him expectantly "For pizza", he said "It's nothing big" - "I love pizza", you answered "Really? What's your order?", you shrugged "Nothing in particular. Mostly I let the staff surprise me. How about you?"

"Funghi", he answered "Mushrooms on pizza is a must." - "We could argue about that", you answered "Or you could walk", Billy smirked, his look to the side meant he wasn't serious, he wouldn't actually throw you out.

"I know that song!", you cheered when Cherry pie by Warrant came on. Billy chuckled and you both sang along to the lyrics. It didn't sound good at all, but neither of you cared, which made the situation a whole lot more comfortable.

"Didn't think you'd like any of my music", Billy admitted when the song was over "Just don't know most of the songs", you replied "But I like your tapes" He smiled at that "Are you not used to people liking it?", you asked, confused. "Nah, not really", Billy shrugged "'s fine though - people I don't care about aren't sitting in my car" You chuckled at that. "So, you like me" - "Maybe" In this particular moment Billy could've almost been described as playful.

You continued your banter and eventually trailed off to other topics, like your homecountries California and Russia. You didn't even notice at first when Billy stopped the engine in front of a restaurant.

"We're here" - "Oh, that was quick", Billy locked the car and then showed you the way inside. It smelled like tomato sauce, wine and bread - a very comforting smell for you, you were used to it as your moms had taken you out to an Italian place every second sunday. It was one of the few places for queer people, the government didn't know about it, so its prices had been horrendous but you had still loved it there every single time.

When you were seated, Billy looked at you smugly "So", he let his eyes wander over the upper part of your body slowly and delicately, taking his time in admiring you "Tell me something about you, pretty boy, that's what dates are for."

"As you know I'm from Russia. It's cold there and the people aren't particularily nice. Uhm, it's very different than from here, but I never had a date there.", you showed a small smile "So, that's a point for America."

You ordered you drinks and food at the same time, so you couldn't make sure if Billy actually blushed again or if it was just the lighting. "How about you?"

"I'm from Cali. Obviously, you already know that. It was much nicer there than here - warm climate, more real friends, the beach... I could go on definetly, but the only point for Hawkins would still only be you."

You definetly blushed when he said that, which made Billy smirk "Wow, that's really cute. Tell me more about California." The following stories made Billy's eyes shine brightly, he started subconciously gesturing with his hands and there was a smile following every sentence of his. You swore, you could've listened to him and stared at him until the restaurant closed.

"So, you want to go back when you're done with school?", you asked, he nodded, the pizza was put before you (Funghi for him and veggies for you) "It's the only place where I want to go. This here is no home for me" - "For me neither", you smiled bitterly at him "Then what made you leave?"

"Several things. Shitty government, climate, homophobia, my mom got a job offer... so, we're here now." - "Do you want to go back to Russia when you're done with school?"

You shrugged. That was a good question "Don't know yet, I guess." Billy only nodded "I would like to get to know California though. Sounds really nice from your stories"

He smiled at you "We could go there in the holidays if we can afford it."

"I could pay gas money. Would get enough if I got a job." - "I have friends over there we could sleep at theirs." - "And a wonderful roadtrip through America", both your eyes were glowing with joy now, and you continued planning the trip for the whole dinner.

You were done with your pizzas when it got dark outside and asked the waitress for dessert. she served you some cherry pie, which you shared, grinning. "Deal?", you asked "Going on that trip in the holidays?" Billy smirked "Deal" You high-fived across the table and went on to pay.

When you stepped out of the restaurant, it was chilly and wind blew around the corners of the small city. "Do you have any cigarettes?", you asked "Mhm", Billy gave you one, your fingertips brushed briefly over the other's, making you grin.

He didn't look away from your eyes when lighting the cigarette between your lips, making his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the flame. "Thanks", you whispered and were mad at society for not being able to kiss him right here. There were still some people who could see you.

Billy took a drag from his own cigarette now "I had a really nice evening" - "Me too" - "To be honest, I can't remember when I laughed so much in one day", you smiled at him sympathetically "I'd kiss you right now if I could" - "I'd kiss back" You smiled at each other in comfortable silence and got back into the car when you were done with smoking.

You directed him to where your house was, metal in the background of your conversations. "Can you stop here?", you asked "'course", Billy parked the camaro at the side of the street and turned your way.

He couldn't even catch the look in your eyes, because you had already leaned over and kissed him. Your hand was in his locks, the other supported your body weight, so you wouldn't fall onto him. Billy though pulled you closer intentionally, which made you squeak and fall onto his chest "Jerk", was the only thing you could say, as in the next moment he pulled you in again. For the first time in your life, the slight taste of mushrooms wasn't bad.

You let his tongue lick over yours, his hands on your back and ass, sliding in your back pocket. Your own fingers messed up his hair, not caring. Billy did either not mind or not notice, because he couldn't think about anything else except kissing you. Your breath hit each other's wet lips when you parted, only millimeters apart.

"There's something I wanted to ask you", you confirmed "What's it?", Billy had a smirk taking over his features slowly. "Do you want to be my... ugh, I don't know what it's called.. slut?"

You knew it was called boyfriend. You definetly knew. And Billy knew that too.

"Yeah, I wanna be your slut."

You both chuckled when you went in for another deep kiss, again, filled with tongue and wet sounds, touches all over your bodies and skin contact making you lose your mind.

"So", Billy's hair was ruffled up and he looked absolutely gorgeous "Do you want to be my slut?" - "I definetly do", you answered, sealing it with a last kiss before you got out of the car. You smirked at him and waved him goodbye when Billy drove past you, he had the biggest grin on the lips and threw you another kiss.

The butterflies in your stomach went completely feral by now, making you smile and giggle like an idiot. Billy Hargrove was your boyfriend and you were his. You hadn't known that you could want that. But now, you were really happy and Hawkin's one point leveled up to more than Russia ever had.

#gay #pansexual #lgbt #trans #ftm #queer #bisexual #male!reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things x male!reader #billy hargrove x male!reader #billy hargrove x male reader

267 notes · View notes

streakyglasses · 1 month ago

Note

hiii❤️are you taking requests for the dialogue injury prompts? if so, i’d love anything for #7 or #11! i would honesty read any of them because hurt/comfort is my bread and butter lol. anyway, i LOVE your writing and get so excited when you post — tysm!

hello! yes, I sure am 🩵🩵 I went with #7! I can’t say why (I fully think I just missed that you also put #11, but maybe 👀👀). it’s also so my bread & butter so thank you for all your kind words! I hope this is everything you’re looking for! it’ll be up on ao3/ffn soon(ish).

prompt from @promptsbytaurie

building collapse, major injuries, no mcd, hurt/comfort, super worried street. set anytime like S3 onward.

The building isn’t supposed to collapse. It’s just a normal, quick assignment on a normal Tuesday. Chris and Street are just there to verify an alibi before they go back and execute a search warrant. Easy. Simple. Benign.

Until the ground starts shaking beneath their feet. They share a look, and instinct sends him running to the right while she banks left and tries to make it under a desk.

She doesn’t make it, and only barely registers the crushing pain in her arm and ankle as the world goes black. ———————————————————————

“Chris?! Chris!” A voice calls. Her eyes are lead, unrelenting to any attempt to open them, and dust sticks in her lungs like ash whenever she tries to pull in a breath. A groan escapes, turning into a cough that makes her gasp for more air.

And then she tries to move. Agony shoots through her worse than a bullet, her eyes shooting open to survey her position. To see why she can’t move. Fear gets her lungs in a vice grip as blurry vision and a pounding head struggle to focus on where she is or what’s happening. It’s dark, and cold seeps through her back from the ground.

Wiggle your toes. A voice in her mind says. Whimpering as her neurons slog the signal down through her limbs, she manages on her right foot, but finds only a static tingling sensation in her left. Her body tries again to sit upwards, fast enough to make her head spin and with enough force to barely move whatever she realizes is pinned on top of her shoulder before it sends her crashing back down, seeing stars.

She’s trapped. Stuck on her back like a bug in a dark, echoing void. Nowhere to go and at the mercy of the shaky air pocket above her. Questions flood her mind: what happened? what has her pinned? How long has she been stuck? Is Street safe?

A new fear rushes over her at the realization that he could be stuck like her, or worse, and the first tear escapes in her panic. Fight or flight strains against her bones and skin like lightning cracking in a bottle, but just like the lightning, it can’t escape. She finds herself unable to take a deep breath, much less call for help.

“Chris?!” They call again, her eyes opening and a whimper escaping as the noises from above are thunderous to her own ears. “Chris, can you hear me? I need you to call out if you can! It’s Street!”

Street! Her heart settles for half a second, giving her the air and courage she needs to open her mouth. The words come out hoarse and broken, but as loud as she can manage.

“Over here!”

The effort exhausts her, but she refuses to close her eyes now that she knows he’s alive. His heavy footsteps still make her flinch as they stop right above her, his body weight making what’s left of the floor creak.

“Chris!” He calls again, and he sounds so much closer this time. Above her, he finds a small break in the rubble, and gets himself to it as close as he can. “Hey, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“What happened?” She fires back with all the false calm she can. Her shoulder is on fire, her ankle not far behind, and the impulse to move away feels like ripping herself in half. His words come to her like she’s underwater.

“Building came down. It looks like an isolated incident, not a quake, so it was planned. Are you okay?” He repeats, barely containing his own worry that flared the second he realized he couldn’t see her and has yet to truly ease. Not until they’re both back above ground.

“I’m pinned.”

Her voice is small. Thick with tears and higher-pitched than he’s ever heard it, and followed by a worrisome cough and too fast breathing. The words make his heart stop.

Recovering, a voice in his head demands that he keep his cool for her sake. Later, he’ll thank it, and now, he’s too freaked out to even question his intuition.

“Okay,” Street acknowledges her. “It’s been about ten minutes; help is on the way. Did you lose consciousness?”

His voice is so steady and so clear, it almost convinces her she isn’t in imminent danger of being crushed. She nods, and then realizes he can’t see her.

“Y—yeah. I don’t know how long.”

“That’s okay!” He’s quick to reassure her. Parsing through his mind for only the most crucial questions, he wishes more than anything he could see her face.

“I need you to tell me a couple things, okay? I’m going to be right here, and we’re gonna get you out of there. What’s pinned, Chris?”

“My arm,” she gets out through grit teeth, a burning licking up her side. “And above my ankle. Left side.”

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. As gingerly as possible, he starts to move the smaller pieces of rubble that he can without jeopardizing the rest. He needs to get her out.

“You’ve got air! That’s good.” Again, she nods, although she knows his voice and he hears the tension in it. Her free hand grasps for anything, but she’s painfully alone. Knowing his presence is above her is her only lifeline.

“Are you bleeding?”

“I—“ Coughing, Chris realizes she doesn’t know. The thought of touching hot blood makes her sick, but she knows he wouldn’t ask if he thought it would hurt her. Slowly, she traces over the parts of her body she can reach, feeling only dust and debris. “No.”

“Good,” he sounds relieved. “You’re doing great, Chris. Help is almost here. I’m going to try to move some of these pieces.”

“O—okay.”

The world fades in and out around her. Every time anything shifts above her, concrete dragging against concrete, her heart jumps and she knows she’s shaking harder than she can control. It all starts to go dark, and the energy to fight it has leached from her.

“Street?” She calls, sounding weak to her own ears as tears impede her. “Street?”

He’s in a daze as he moves as fast as he can, willing help to reach them faster. When he hears her call him, he practically jumps back to the small gap he can press his ear against.

“Hey, I’m right here.”

“Street,” she starts, breathing labored as each word stretches like muscle to reach him. They’re interrupted by sniffles and grunts of pain from every centimeter her body moves. “It—I’m cold.”

His body freezes while his mind races. Shock. Blood loss. Both. There’s too many unknowns and he starts to work faster, uncaring as cement cuts into his hands and builds dirt under his nails.

“It’s okay!” He says, but he sounds manic to his own ears. “Hang in there, help is almost here and we’re gonna get you out of there, Chris.”

Something shifts. Dust rains down on her as she can’t hold back her yelp of fear. A beam drops, stopping just a few inches from her face The building settles quickly but the last grips she had on herself are shaken lose. Tears start flowing freely, leaving a track in the grime covering her face.

“If I don’t… t—tell my fam—family I’m sorry. The team.”

“No!” Street shouts. Maybe the edge in his voice will be enough to bring her back. Maybe it’ll make her angry enough to focus her attention on him instead of the horror around her. “No, stop. Stop talking like that, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Street…”

“Alonso. Listen to me. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving you until you’re safely out of there. I’ll will it into existence if I have to. You are not dying. Trust me. Keep listening to my voice.”

Her vocal chords refuse to form words, a whimper coming out instead. It’s something, it’s all he has, so Street holds onto it with all his might.

Finally, the sirens become undeniably loud. A million footsteps rush into the wreckage, surrounding Street and drowning him in questions, but he only offers one answer.

“We have to get Chris out, now.”

They ask how long and where she’s stuck and he thinks he answers. All their hands converge, pushing and lifting until they uncover where she is.

Street’s heart stops at her closed eyes. The moment after the other first responders drop down to assess, he follows, uncaring of the hands and voices trying to stop him.

“Chris,” he whispers, sweeter than he’s ever said it. He brushes her hair off her forehead, feeling for any bruising as he does. Too many others are poking and prodding at her, taking vitals and starting fluids, and he takes a breath. “Follow my voice, Chris. I’m right here.”

Her lashes flutter. Unfamiliar hands and voices swirl around her and she wants to push back but she can’t move. Luckily, Street fills her field of vision and it takes the edge off.

He’s worried. She hates that he’s worried and that she can’t figure out why. Bright lights flood the space enough to see tears shining over deep green, and she reaches for his free hand as she keeps focused on the other in her hair.

“There she is,” he says with a small smile. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re almost ready to extricate.” Someone else says. They shove slightly at Street but Chris’s grip keeps him right where he is. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Street almost bares his teeth at the man to back up.

“Officer Alonso,” he continues, smiling at her but it does nothing that Street’s does. “I’m Evan. We’re going to give you a dose of fentanyl to control the pain, and then get you out of here.”

“S—sure,” she nods, but it’s more like a jerk, and her nails dig into Street’s palm. He squeezes back.

“I told you it’d be fine, didn’t I?”

It makes her want to laugh but she doesn’t have the air. Before she can reply, the weight moves and feeling overwhelms her. Hands wedge underneath her limbs, and this time Street is forced away from her even as she writhes to hold onto him. Catching a glimpse of the bruise and blood on her arm makes her go limp and lightheaded.

Street watches, worried and heartbroken, as they load her onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. The second he sees her eyes open, he runs to the still-open doors.

“I’ll see you at the hospital. I promise.”

————————————————————————

It’s silent save the beeping of her heart monitor. Midnight has come and gone, the team staying as late as each of them could, and bowing out with an assurance from Street that he’d update them if need be. They could barely keep him from darting to the hospital from HQ after he gave his statement. Luca forced him into the shower, Deacon a bowl into his hands, but now he finds himself with one hand stroking her knuckles and the other shaking against his jeans.

Dim yellow light highlights how peaceful she looks, and he’s glad she does, because his heart is still pounding. Her words echo in his head, her fear. His eyes keep finding the steady rhythm of the monitor to counter it.

A soft groan grabs his attention. Chris’s brows furrow—a sight he’ll never forget—and her fingers latch onto the warmth beside her. She shifts slightly, not able to go far, and he speaks softly.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.”

A low grumble passes her lips, the lights too bright as she blinks against them.

“What happened?” Chris mutters. But the memory hits her before she’s even finished and her eyes snap open as panic almost overtakes her. Until she sees him. Realizes the warmth in her grip is him. Relaxes.

“Hey,” he smiles, dimples and eyes soft and deep like a shelter in a storm. “How you feeling?”

Taking stock of herself, she paws at the bandages on her shoulder that encase her arm, and lifts the blanket enough to see a matching wrap on her ankle. For a moment, fear sparks through her, but there’s no pain and she doesn’t have the energy to indulge her own anxiety.

“Okay. Have you been here all night?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave until I kept my promise.”

Chris nods with a yawn and he stands to adjust the pillows for her to sink back into. Knowing she’s safe, seeing her awake and smiling, is enough to ease his chest. He reaches for his backpack, preparing to leave and give her privacy to rest, but she grabs his hand.

“Thank you. For giving me something to hold onto.”

Maybe it’s because it’s somewhere between two and four am and there’s no around, a moment charged with meaning but easy enough to brush off in the morning. Or maybe it’s because they both need it, but he sits back down and leans in, kissing her tenderly.

“Thank you,” she repeats softly when they part, eyes blowing her soul wide open for him to see. He fixes her blanket and squeezes her hand.

“Get some sleep. I’ll stay.”

#stris #swat cbs #jim street #chris alonso #cbs swat #s.w.a.t cbs #s.w.a.t #chris x street #my writing #street x chris #Anon ask #hurt/comfort #i hope you enjoy!!!

10 notes · View notes