#just need to find the inspiration for a few more clips

[extra-flamey]

Riley showed up on time, so he got to be cowboy guy.

I was going through my home made memes folder and found this cursed clip from 2020. I blame covid.

[flaggermuser]

When You Loved Me

1,209 words || Fluff, Spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma ||

Inspired by the idea that at least one doctor would have formed an attachment.

Thank you to @bisexualhomelander for being my beta

They're nearly all dead, there's just one loose end that Homelander needs to tie up.

So he stands outside the unassuming house, ready to cross the final name off his list, which he found in an old abandoned file documenting his ‘development’.

It was a stroke of luck that he found you - it seemed as if Vogelbaum scrubbed you from all official records.

Determined to finish what he's started, he knocks on your door and waits impatiently, ready to strike you down where you stand.

“I’m coming!”

He freezes, his entire body tensing up as your voice unlocks memories from his time in the lab, ones buried deep somewhere at the back of his mind.

A frightened and hurt little boy being held, being comforted after the incinerator and the other horrible forms of torture he was subjected to.

“Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. Shall we read another story?”

The door slowly opens and there you are. 

Now that he's seen your face, the memories are more vivid. There’s still that kindness in your eyes, the one he saw every night before he went to sleep. 

At least, for a few months before you disappeared.

“Hello, John.” Your smile is still as warm as he remembers. “My, how you’ve grown. Come in, come in!”

With trepidation, he slowly enters, unsure of what he’ll find. It’s homely, filled with curiosities and everything he’s ever associated with a true American home. As he follows you into your living room, he notices some of the pictures on the wall with you and your former colleagues at Vought, some of whom he’s already killed.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of milk would be nice,” he replies, trying his best to smile while conflicting thoughts swirl in his mind.

He was so convinced that you were like the others that had you not spoken, he would have killed you the moment you opened the door.

“Well take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

He takes a seat on your couch, hands in his lap, looking around the room again. That’s when he notices the mantelpiece, covered in photos and newspaper clippings, all in ornate frames.

Not of your family - of him. They’re all of him.

Taking pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece is a picture from several years ago.

“Don't worry John, it's just a camera. All I'm going to do is take a picture of just the two of us. I promise it won't hurt.”

He's sat on your lap, your arms around him, holding him tightly, protectively, a smile on your face.

He’s smiling too. He’s happy. He’s with you.

They took you from me.

“Here we go,” your return snaps him back to reality, his eyes softening as he notices the glass of milk in your hand and a plate of cookies in your other, settling it down on the coffee table in front of him.

It’s such a sweet gesture.

You take a seat in a nearby armchair, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

After all these years, you’re still this beacon of absolute kindness.

“Do I call you John or Homelander?”

“John.”

How did I forget how lovingly you said my name? How did I forget you?

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well. And look at you, you’re The Homelander! Leader of the Seven!”

His lower lip quivers, trying to keep himself together but it’s proving harder. Your praise comes from a place of pure love, something he’s never experienced or at least, he can’t remember experiencing.

“I see you’ve noticed the mantel. I know I must seem mad but I’ve been following your progress.”

You cared about me, you care about me, it’s all genuine.

“You were so young when I last saw you, with that lovely little smile.”

You reach out to take his hand but he pulls away, only so he can take off his glove. It looks so small in his, he knows if he squeezes just a little, all your bones would be crushed to dust.

But he won't.

“The things we did. Oh John, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything to save you. I should've stood up to Vogelbaum, I should've protected you."

Saved him, protected him - the regret is written all over your face.

They regretted their actions too, only after he reminded them. Then they apologised but it was too late for them, maybe it’s still too late for you. 

He squeezes your hand, trying to comfort you. 

“You know, I think about you every day. I wanted to reach out but I figured Vogelbaum would have any attempt at contact blocked, especially from me. All because I chose to be human.”

Human. They were human too and they tortured me.

It’s clear that is a sore subject for you, nowhere near as painful for him but the fact it makes you sad somehow makes him feel better. It shows that you cared.

“They fired me for ‘interfering with the experiment’ but how could I not?! You were scared, you were crying and they left you all alone in that horrid room.”

The bad room.

“I couldn’t just leave you there to cry yourself to sleep. So I volunteered to take the night shift. Do you remember… remember the first time?”

His jaw tightens, desperately searching his mind for even the tiniest hint of a recollection yet all of the torment he was subjected to has buried everything deeper. 

“You were terrified that I was going to hurt you, your eyes glowed red and you trembled. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me but you would if you had to.”

You understood.

“It took you a few minutes to realise I wouldn’t hurt you - I think it was the books under my arm that convinced you I wasn’t a threat.”

A single flash - “Would you like me to read you a story?”

“I sat down on your bed, you sat on my lap and we read story, after story, after story. Until you didn’t want me to read anymore, you just wanted me to hold you. So I did exactly that.”

He desperately wants to remember, he needs to remember. 

“Then Vogelbaum found out, I must have forgotten to turn the cameras off and I was removed from the project. I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve marched right back in there and demanded to take you. But I didn’t.”

But you’re here now. They’re all dead but you’re still here.

“I forgive you,” it slips out of his mouth, however, this time it’s heartfelt. He means this without malice.

You’re the parent he’d always wanted, living in a house he always dreamed of, serving him milk and cookies like he’s still that young boy you cared about.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe there could be something here, born from the ashes of your past sin and his trauma.

Sniffling, you wipe away your tears, tightening your grip on his hand. When the smile returns, it’s affectionate and all for him.

“I want you to know, John. I need you to know, that you’ll always have a place here and in my heart."

[buckgasms]

How do we feel about more fluffy Bucky?

Because I'm feeling good about it...

This is also very much inspired by my own insomnia lol...

I had this thought that maybe you stay up late with Bucky some nights because you can't sleep and it's nicer to be awake together than alone right?

And maybe you start talking about ASMR and Bucky is like "wut?" So you explain what it's all about and show him some videos. And I like the idea of sitting tucked into him, watching videos together and it's all cosy and tingly.

So he tries it out for a few days and he LOVES it. He finds some that he likes and he gets all the tingles and feels super relaxed and he actually manages to get a few nights of sleep!

But one night he comes down to the living room all grumpy and dejected. Flopping down on the sofa next to you.

"What's up?" You ask offering him a bit of blanket as you flick through netflix for a film. He groans and rubs a hand over his face.

"I lost my tingles doll."

You can't help but giggle at him as he gets grumpier, stealing more blanket as punishment.

"Hey, quit it! I'm sorry. It does happen, sometimes you need to not watch for a bit, then they come back..."

He huffs and covers your legs again. "I guess. It's just... It was so nice to get some sleep for once."

You sat back for a moment, looking at the tired man in front of you. Then you had an idea.

"What if we tried in for real?"

He gave you a side eye, before turning to look at you properly. "Whaddya mean try it for real?"

You chuckled and sat up a little, already bouncing with excitement. "Like I can do it for you, which ones do you like watching?"

His cheeks flushed a bit and he tried to evade your question but you kept prodding. Finally he relented.

"I kinda like the skincare ones.... And hair brushing I guess... But you don't have to..."

You squealed a little in delight and stood up, grabbing his hand and dragging him to your room without any chance to argue.

"Get into bed and I'll grab some bits. Just get comfy" you instruct and leave him to head to your bathroom to gather everything you need.

Bucky stood in the middle of your room feeling like he was in a dream and that you were, at any moment, going to start laughing at him. He hesitated for a moment but then heard you call, "get into bed Bucky..."

How could you hear his thoughts? He was sure you had a secret power you hadn't disclosed to the rest of the team.

He carefully pulled back your soft duvet and settled his back into plumped up pillows. The sheets smelled fresh but also like you. He felt better already. He was sure if he shared a bed with you every night, he'd sleep just fine.

Before he could think anymore you appeared with a little bag full of bottles and skincare tools and a shy smile on your face. "I'm not sure the best way to do this, but if it gets too weird, then tell me ok..."

He nodded and watched as you popped your bag next to him on the bed, then panicked a little as you climbed on top of him and sat gently on his covered thighs.

"Is this ok?"

He nodded after a moment and exhaled gently. You smiled and broke the tension by taking a deep breath and exhaling out.

"Welcome to Bucky's BFF ASMR, your personalised pamper session to provide as many tingles as humanly possible."

You both giggled as you started your session. He hummed when you started brushing his hair, parting delicate lines and running your fingers gently along each part.

"Damn" he muttered as your fingers gently pulled as his hair, releasing tension from his entire body.

"You feeling ok there?" You whisper as you clip his hair back and give his shoulders a squeeze. He nods, before cracking an eye open to look at you. "You alright?"

You nod enthusiastically and run your hands gently down his arms. You're about to start when he reaches his hands forward and holds onto your hips gently.

"Actually doll, do you mind if I...just hold you there?"

You think your head is going to explode with how much you are very ok with that, but play it as cool as you can and nod. He smiles and closes his eyes again, his fingers squeezing at your hips ever so gently.

You then grab the skin care and quietly explain everything that you are doing. Cleansing his face with cool micellar water, applying a sheet mask and using a little roller to reduce tension in his face and neck.

Once you remove it you apply some moisturiser and notice his breathing has evened out and his hold on your hips has become a little looser. You sit for a minute, watching his handsome face in relaxed mode.

It was so lovely to see him like this, and your seat for the view was pretty great. You pulled the clips gently from his hair and brushed a little strand of hair out of his face. Just one kiss would make it perfect but it would have to wait.

You quietly packed everything away before lifting as gently as you could off the sleeping former assassin without waking him. You slipped under the duvet and clicked off the light before curling up, hoping he would be ok sleeping with you in there.

Your question was answered when be stirred and rolled towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Thanks Doll...goodnight.."

"Goodnight Bucky..."

[riverink]

Kinktober 2: Double Penetration

Trans!Sunday x male reader, Bird hybrid Sunday x Naga reader Sunday will be having afab genitals Summary: Inspired by that one pick of the snake and bird. A little bird tried to fly but, oh my, a Naga caught the little bird.

Sunday was exploring the forest, further than he should with his clipped wings that struggled carrying him. Still he pushed further into the forest until. "Now what do we have here?" Strong body wrapping around his, a Naga that was hunting in their own teritory. "A little bird fell right into my trap. Now what should i do with you?"

Sunday squirmed in the Naga´s hold and helplessly flapped his wings. "Let me go!". The naga chuckled and simply tightened his tails grip on Sunday. Petting his cheek. "These little wings dont bring you far anyways, my poor little bird. Why not just let me help you. Just give in". Sunday felt his breath come in shorter and shorter as the Nagas tail presses down on his body. Slowly he stopped struggling and just held onto the Naga. "Now that is a brave little Bird!"

The Naga brought Sunday back to his lair, a mossy cave, decorated with flowers and whatever else one could find in the forest. Sunday was impressed having not expected such a nice nest from a predatore.

"You see my little Bird i felt lonely for quite a while and am quite pent up." The Nagas hand rakes down Sundays body making his breath hitch and he squirm. "W-wait you should not take me. I am not a good...partner."

"Shh shh little bird you are perfect actually just what i need." With a swift tug, the Naga removes Sundays loin clothes, exposing his glistening arousal. "Such a pretty bird, My perfect bird." He kisses down Sundays neck rubbing down his chest. A hand finding his folds, rubbing over his big clit. "Perfect!"

Sunday moans, his hips twitching. He felt his clit twitching and pulsing. His legs shook and twitch. "Naga...i feel strange."

The naga coos, "you are so amazing my boy. Just relax. This is gonna be amazing." Slowly the nagas two Hemipenis come out of it´s sheath and rub through Sundays wet cunt. Sunday looked down and felt lightheaded. "They will not fit. I can´t take both it will not work!" He panicked and squirmed but can´t deny his excitment.

"They will fit perfectly little bird just relax". The nagas hand found Sundays hole and started to stretch him. Sunday moaned and whimpered at the burn. "It hurts!"

"it will feel good soon don´t worry". When the Naga felt like Sunday was properly stretched he guided the first cock to his entrance. "Relax my boy. It will be amazing in a bit." With the first cock in Sunday already felt full. His hole clenching and he whined. "Full!! Im already full". The Naga doesnt get detered and guides the second one as well to his entrance. "You are doing so amazing. Just one more little stretch." (Y/n) pushes in the second one as well and slowly bottoms out.

Sunday yelps throwing his head back, little tears spilling down. "Im gonna rip. It´s too much. Naga please..." He pleads for something even he isnt sure of. With the first few thrusts, he whimpers from the pain but it soon fades out into a hot pleasure and the squelching sounds increase as he feels himself losen up.

"There we go little bird. So nicely opening up for me. Just relax baby." Sunday relaxes and lets himself be taken, a knot forming in his stomach and his head feeling dizzy, the world starting to fade out.

The two cocks inside him get even stiffer as the Naga approaches climax, Sunday screams as the knot snaps inside him, clenching down on both cocks. The naga releases inside him and the sensation of being filled sense Sunday into overdrive and he can barely register anyhthing as he falls into a subspace, clinging to the Naga.

"Fweels so good...so full". The Naga pulls out gently and craddles the little bird. "My precious Boy took all of me so well." (Y/n) gives Sundays softening cock some strokes, making him whimper. "All mine now"

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

this is the serial killer direction i WANTED that actors au nonsense to go. all that shit is happening too, but this was the part that sparked that whole idea.

this post is loooong

warning binghe is an obsessive yandere freak 🥰 bingyuan are freak4freak tho so like…. it's fine

dead dove do not eat; he is a serial killer and he's kinda horny about it lmao

luo binghe is maybe shen yuan’s biggest fan. when he was fourteen, he saw sy as the male lead in a classical romantic opera and it inspired him to act. he’s seen all of shen yuan’s opening nights and most of his closings, and he was coached by shen yuan’s older brother (until shen jiu dropped him as a client…there was something Not Right about that boy and sj didn’t want him close). he’s got a bit of a shrine to shen yuan in his basement, filled with photos and newspaper clippings a few dried flowers—whenever he was given flowers on stage, shen yuan always tossed one back to the audience. binghe has three. he has every part of shen yuan he can get his hands on, but it's not enough.

when he and sy start working on sqh's game, it's like heaven and hell all at once. sy is even more beautiful up close, even kinder and funnier and smarter than he shows himself to be in the few interviews he's deigned to give. every moment lbh spends with him is ecstasy. every moment he spends apart from him is suffering unlike any he's ever experienced. every day he yearns to touch, to taste, to take shen yuan. to have him and keep him and treasure him the way no one else ever could. no one loves him like luo binghe loves him.

this video game they're working on—it's got a lot of endings. most of the game is the player on their own, but there's one path that gets the shitty teacher character as a companion. and further down that path…well, there are a lot of romance options in a game as big as this.

things start out fine; lbh and sy have great chemistry, it turns out. even when sy has to play the cruel teacher, it's got this undercurrent of something that could easily open the door for the romance arc later on. lbh knew they'd have great chemistry. he and sy are destined to be together; of course they'd work well on screen. they hang out between takes, eat their meals together, carpool when they can. it's amazing.

it's not enough. binghe burns with the need to possess his beloved, and every day he's denied what he rightfully deserves, that fire burns hotter. one night, he goes out to try to find a hookup, just to let off some steam. it's supposed to be a hookup, it really is. he finds someone who looks similar enough to sy from the back that he can almost pretend it's him. but his voice is all wrong, and his attitude is too brazen, and it pisses binghe off so bad that he chokes the guy just so he'll shut up.

it's just—he doesn't stop choking him until he finishes a few minutes later, and by that point, the guy is…well. mbj helps lbh scrub the body and cover his tracks, and the corpse is found a few days later with no real leads.

it happens again a few weeks later. lbh can't have shen yuan, but so many pale imitations throw themselves at him. and every time, he takes them to bed and he swears he won't get angry this time. it's not sy; he knows it isn't sy. there's no need to be angry with them for pretending to be sy when they're not.

he gets angry anyway. he can't help it. he accepts these men's advances, he takes him to bed, he kills them and kills them and kills them. eventually, news comes to light. the date-night killer, a deeply uninspired name born only from the fact that their last known locations were all night clubs. they're all around the same height, all have short brown hair and glasses, all similar builds.

one night binghe asks shen yuan if he wants to go get drinks. he knows a nice quiet lounge, not too crowded since it's so exclusive. shen yuan declines. jokes that he'd better not—the date night killer likes guys with short brown hair; maybe they'd go after him next.

the next body that turns up is…different. still strangled to death, but it seems like the killer (a copycat most likely, the cops say) felt regret afterward. on the victim's back, over and over again, is carved "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry…"

his a-yuan is afraid of him. luo binghe hates himself, and he hates all these people who put themselves in his path, who get themselves killed by daring to try to replace a-yuan in his heart. it's their fault a-yuan is afraid. binghe is the only one who can keep him safe. he knows he is.

binghe keeps it together until they're approaching the end of shen yuan's time in the studio. the arc is almost finished, and shen yuan mentions that in a month he'll be leaving for his next show's rehearsals. some opera, binghe's pretty sure; his hearing sort of cut out when his beloved said he was leaving. the news is a knife to the heart. his a-yuan can't leave. a-yuan belongs with him, no one can take him away. binghe needs a-yuan, and a-yuan needs binghe.

that night, luo binghe and shen yuan vanish without a trace. binghe has a house. it's under a false identity, and it's way out in the mountains. there, he can keep his a-yuan safe and comfortable. there, he can work to earn his a-yuan's affection. there, no one can take his a-yuan away.

he explains to a-yuan that they're home now, that they are together as they belong, that luo binghe will be the best husband to his precious a-yuan. and sy is so beautiful, so clever, of course he figures out that luo binghe is the date night killer. it's alright though, binghe promises, because he only killed those people for daring to imitate his beloved. now that he and his husband are finally together, binghe's got no reason to kill anyone else. they'll be happy together now that there's no one else in the way.

when shen yuan smiles, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. he shifts, asks binghe to untie his arms. of course, binghe obeys. anything for his husband. he's not a fool; he knows shen yuan might try to fight and escape as a test of binghe's ability to protect him, and binghe's ready. but instead, shen yuan reaches out and stokes binghe's hair, his cheek. 'binghe went so far for me,' he murmurs, a hypnotic gleam in his eye that luo binghe has never seen. 'i hoped that night… i thought for sure you'd take me when i turned you down for drinks, but you tried so hard to be respectful, didn't you? well. maybe someday binghe will let me see him work? i quite liked the one you carved for me, but i really didn't need an apology. you can try again, can't you? will you make something pretty for me?'

the next corpse is rather beautifully arranged. the wounds carved into the body are artistic, elegant flowing lines and flowers carved into the skin. in the middle of its back, the double happiness character is drawn. shen yuan thinks it’s a lovely wedding present.

[artist-ellen]

Hawaiian inspired Mermaid

Much like last year.... drawing historical mermay just inspired me to draw more historically inspired mermaids. It lit a fire in me to finally finish enough for my next coloring book! I still need plenty more however, so far I'm at 30 mermaids... wish me luck :D

I had initially hoped to make the Hawaiian mermaid a jellyfish but tragically the Spotted Jellyfish were my strongest shape & design contenders. Spotted Jellyfish are disqualified on the basis of being an invasive Australian species of Jellyfish. The other jellyfish options I could find were all sadly too clear to make into a jellyfish maid. So I pivoted. (Every time I see that word I hear a certain sound clip) While looking at other marine creatures that live in/around Hawaii I scrolled past the Manta ray... and how could I resist? Moana got me good with the association game.

This opened a new box of challenges. How to make a mer-ray without making it look like someone riding a ray? I went through a few options before eventually landing on this design. I based her accessories on the attire of performers from various Merry Monarch competitions, but sadly a skirt made the idea less clear so it was defeated.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[dulc3vida]

you.

rafe cameron x bunny!reader

part 1. this is my au so don't think too much about canon lore. characters, times, events, ect... might not match but PLEASE JUST ENJOY THE STORY PLEASE JUST GIVE IT A CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASe

warning: 18+ read at your own risk. this is a dark fic loosely inspired by the tv show you. dubious content lies ahead, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

UNC Chapel Hill: September, Sophomore Year

there was nothing rafe cameron hated more than being tutored. it made him feel stupid, needing someone to explain and break down concepts that others understood easily. ward used to lose his mind trying to find rafe new tutors because in all honesty, when rafe felt cornered or helpless, he got nasty. saying the rudest things that made these well-paid, private tutors basically discard a paycheck, was one of the first times rafe ever felt true power. the first time he ever came close to knowing what his dad felt like, even though his dad had a much better reputation than rafe ever would.

rafe especially hated english. the books were boring and he could never be bothered to sumbit more than a half baked essay regarding the text. that's how he ended up in the study room in the library sitting across from you. he remembered you from class, the TA. you always sat besides prof. callahans desk and you looked younger than any TA he had ever had, probably even his age. your face was familiar but rafe couldn't put his finger on it. you were clean, you smelled good, and your nails were done which meant you had the time and money to take care of that kind of thing when most college students forget to feed themselves. you occasionally looked up from the signup sheet as the minutes ticked 5 past 3pm, where only rafe's name was signed.

"i guess we can start now." you mumbled, flipping your notebook open. "this weeks quiz is going to cover part 1 of crime and punishment. have you... started the reading?"

rafe's hard gaze bored into yours and he shook his head without another word. he was thinking about how cute and neurotic the way you had your notes organized was and how soft you spoke to him. were you scared of him? rafe was intrigued.

"okay, no biggie. we can just start there. did you check out a copy of the book?" you asked, pulling out your own copy that was bursting at the seam with sticky notes and colored tabs. again, rafe wordlessly shook his head. "good thing we're in the library. come on, let's go see if they have any left."

rafe followed close behind you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck as you walked through rows of books before finding the one you were looking for. you showed rafe how to check a book out before returning to the study room. "okay. let's start."

you began dissecting the book from the very beginning, soft voice describing the historical context of the book. rafe was surprised at how well he was keeping up. it didn't hurt that you were cute, nose all blushed and button, scrunching up whenever you couldn't read your own handwriting in your notes. a pair of clear framed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose which you constantly adjusted due to your eyelashes hitting the glass. you had a habit of licking and biting your lips, applying lipgloss on every "brain break" as you called it. maybe all this time, all he needed was a cute tutor that he could stand looking at.

in between writing notes and flipping through the book, he caught glimpses of a "j" necklace dangling in your cleavage. did your name start with a j?

"what's your name?" rafe asked once the two of you began packing your things up. it was now 7:30 with the sun beginning to set. you told him and he repeated it under his breath.

"my friends call me bunny though." if you're bunny, who is j? you tossed your bag over your shoulder and let your hair down from the claw clip that was holding it up. it billowed over your shoulders and you tucked a few stray strands behind your ears after taking your glasses off. you weren't the shy good girl he met at the beginning of the session, no, you were different. good girl in front of everyone but he knew there was another energy in you that he wanted- no he needed to see. rafe watched you leave, staying a few steps behind, where he could comfortably watch you and before he knew it, you were jumping into the passenger side of a beat up old brown van that pulled up, and leaning over to give whoever was driving a kiss.

rafe felt a familiar, red hot anger wash over him. the first time he felt that anger was when sarah was born and ward wouldn't stop fawning over her. ward basically forgot he had a son when sarah was born which made rafe incredibly insecure. that insecurity built a home inside rafe's heart, where any little inconvenience could turn it into an ugly monster with sharp teeth and a desire to tear everything in sight into fucking pieces. this time, the monster was awakened at the reality of you having a boyfriend.

against his better judgement, rafe ran to his truck the second you took off, speeding down the road he saw you drive down. it took him a minute, but he managed to find the shitbox on wheels you were riding around in. he made sure to stay far enough away to where it didn't seem suspicious, but close enough to where he wouldn't lose you again.

he wouldn't lose you again.

he repeated that phrase to himself as he drove into jacksonville and while he parked his car a few spaces from the van in a place where your little group was fully visible. you came to the beach. there was 3 guys, 1 girl, and you. gone were your leggings, tank top, and cardigan. instead, you donned a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a bikini top, and a huge smile on your face as you settled yourself in the blonde boys lap.

rafe thought he recognized the group you were with, but he was hoping his eyes were just playing tricks. of course, it could never be that simple because rafe did know them. the pogues. what were they doing on the mainland? he hadn't seen them in a while and was getting used to not having to see or smell them other than when he went home for holidays.

jj, he knew worked in the cafeteria ever since he graduated earlier in the spring, which is probably how he met you. rafe had never been fond of jj, in fact, rafe lived to antagonize jj back on the island (if he cared for the cafeteria food, he would probably be in there a lot more to mess with him) so him having you felt like poorly timed karma. to be completely honest, rafe hadn't expected such a dramatic shift of power dynamics when coming to college because now there was at least 10 other rafe's who were dating the girls he should have been dating. he did just fine at parties, more than fine, but he was starting to get tired of drunk girls who just lied there all limp and sweaty or threw up on his dick (happened twice freshman year and he didn't enjoy it like he thought he would). the first decent, eligible girl he meets is getting her pussy dug out by jj maybank of all people and it felt like someone, somewhere was laughing at his misfortune. it almost made him want to give up on you.

almost.

he would never let jj maybank win at anything, let alone your heart. there was just something about you that he couldn't let go. the only thing he couldn't figure out was why everyone else was here too? none of them had a chance of getting into chapel hill. you either had to have perfect grades, be incredibly wealthy, or be a legacy student. thankfully, rafe managed to be 2/3 of those things.

rafe sat back in his seat and just observed you. he cracked his windows open and tried to listen to your conversation but he was too far to hear anything other than laughter and unintelligible voices. he pulled his phone out and typed your name into instagram, easily finding your very public page.

rafe decided to do some digging. he would start at the bottom. scrolling all the way back through a very curated feed (rafe could tell you pick and choose which of your old posts get to stay up and which ones ruin the feed) rafe felt his heart sink.

he knew you.

OBX: Summer 2018

"come on, bunny, i don't wanna go without you." your friend, esther, pleaded. she had been invited to rafe camerons party, a coveted event where anything and everything happened. esther was dating rafe's friend kelce, who invited her to the party.

"you're not even gonna talk to me so what's the point in going." you responded, filing your nails while you laid in bed.

"honestly, when's the last time you really went out? you only ever go to the country club and don't say your parents make you because last time you weren't even with your parents."

"well, the old men buy me drinks if i talk to them and make them laugh. sometimes they give me money. one of them gave me this tiffany bracelet." you stuck your wrist out to show off the silver bracelet with the heart tag which was branded with the company's insignia.

"that's kinda gross." esther scrunched her nose. you only shrugged your shoulders.

"so is going to a party at rafe camerons house. jungle juice is probably roofied" rafe had been the stereotypical jock douchebag who only hung out with other jocks, cheerleaders, or other impossibly gorgeous girls. you saw right through him which is why you never caved. not when he invited you to his lunch table, not when he asked you out, not when he tried to grind against you on the dancefloor at junior prom and called you a bitch when you pushed him away. at some point, rafe stopped trying trying with you and turned his attention and "where my hug at?" energy towards other girls who were much more susceptible.

"so we'll pregame. just please don't make me go alone." in a flash, esther sat on top of you and pinned your arms down while a string of "please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top!" tumbled out of her mouth.

"OKAY!" you had enough, but were still giggling. "i'll go, just get off of me so i can change."

"yay!" esther rolled off of you. "wear the black one, the one that makes you look slutty."

"aren't we supposed to be getting you laid?" you asked, looking through your closet that was practically overflowing with expensive name brands.

esther looked down at her hands. "me and kelce already..."

"no way. really?" she nodded and you squealed rushing over to hug her. "babe i'm so proud of you! wait- why do you need me there then?"

"its the first time i'm meeting his friends and i'm nervous." she explained, now looking through your clothes with you. "i need a buffer, yknow, a cute friend who can keep my boyfriends friends occupied."

you blinked. "so basically, you're whoring me out?"

"you just told me that you talk to old men for money and gifts."

"yeah and they don't even get to see me in my little black dress."

when you arrived at the party, it was in full swing. rafe caneron's parties had a reputation. booze flowed, drugs were shared, and there were enough rooms in the house for every couple to get busy in. it was the perfect haven for teen delinquency.

you were unimpressed, as per usual, with rafe's antics. he had been in the pool when you arrived, a girl on either side of him while he smoked a joint.

"how long do i have to stay?"

"until you start enjoying yourself."

you went to the bar. grabbing a red solo cup, you mixed yourself a drink of cherry vodka and coke. you chugged it, always having the attitude that when it came to alcohol you had to get right to the point. when you finished it, you made yourself another one.

"excuse me." a hand gently placed itself on the small of your back which made you jump. "my bad, didn't mean to scare ya- hey you're esthers friend right?" it was topper. "i just saw her with kelce. i'm topper." he stuck his hand out.

"bunny." you took it.

"whatcha got there?"

"chery vodka and coke."

"nah nah nah- you like the cherry vodka?" you nodded and he took your cup from you. "let me make you a drink."

"okay." you watched his every move as he fixed cherry vodka, cranberry juice, and lime in a brand new cup. "thank you. what is this?"

"it's called a cherry bounce. cheers to you, bunny. hopefully this isn't the last time i see you."

you only smiled at him, tight lipped and gently tapped your cup against his before taking a drink. "topper, this is really good. make me another?"

"you're not even done with that one yet." with that, you drank the rest of your cup. "okay, party girl." he took your cup back and fixed you another. "you wanna dance?"

you hated to admit it, but you actually were having a good time with topper. he was funny, kind, nice to look at, and he was a good dancer. the night was going so good, until esther invited you and topper to sesh with her, kelce, and rafe as the party died down.

it wasn't the sesh that was bad, no, you even managed to be polite and sociable with rafe. it was after the sesh when your drinks had caught up with you and you needed to pee. "esther can you show me where the bathroom is?" you asked but it fell on deaf ears as esther and kelce were mouth fucking.

"c'mon. i'll show you." rafe got up and began walking inside the house without another word. you quickly followed, only wanting to relieve your bladder and be alone for a few minutes to gather yourself and your thoughts that were racing on account of the sativa blunt you had just smoked.

rafe walked up the stairs, basically torturing your bladder with every step until he got into his room. "just use this one."

you were too desperate to argue about whatever his intentions were bringing you here so you went in and almost tripped over yourself getting to the toilet. you made it through, no accidents happening and feeling a lot more gone than when you walked up the stairs.

you stepped back into rafes room and he was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. "you okay? you were in there for a while."

"yeah." you stumbled over to sit next to him but he got up and went to his window. "just a little dizzy."

"everyone fell asleep." rafe watched his friends make themselves comfortable on the outside couch on this hot summer night. you climbed over his bed and looked out the window at the sight of your friend asleep on her boyfriend's chest and topper asleep, hugging a pillow.

"do i get a prize?" he cocked his head at you. "for being the last one awake at a rafe cameron party?"

"what do you want?" rafe asked you seriously and you sighed, lying back against his navy blue sheets.

"for you to not be such an asshole." you murmured and stared at the ceiling. "i mean, you're really cute but you ruin it by being... you."

"i knew you had a thing for me." rafe must have only heard half of what you were saying because he was taking his place back next to you on his bed. "c'mere." he patted his lap and it didn't take much more coaxing than that to get you crawling into his lap. he positioned himself the way he wanted you, straddling him with your crotch right on top of his. "been waiting for you to finally come around." he trailed his hands up and down from your waist to your ass. "y'gonna let me inside that pretty pussy babe?" rafe whispered in your ear, sending all your intoxicated arousal straight to your core.

if you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would have never even been in rafe's room, but here you were letting him guide your hips to grind against you through the thin layer of your black lacy panties. your short dress had already ridden up your thighs, exposing you even more than you already were.

unexpectedly, rafe tugged the top of your dress down and leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. when he grazed his teeth against your sensitive, hardened peak, you gasped and jolted against him. "rafe." you whispered, trying to get his attention because your head was spinning. instead, his hand found a place between your legs and pushed your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your folds and spreading your wetness. he used it to rub your clit in circles, encouraged by your whimpers in his ear. "oh rafe..." you felt your orgasm building quickly due to your drunken state, but you also felt a pit building in your stomach. this felt wrong.

you blinked and you were on your back. your dress had found a place across your stomach and your panties were torn off of you without your knowledge. you closed your eyes, hoping if he thought you were asleep that he would just stop.

of course, things would not be that simple.

while your eyes were closed, rafe got undressed and slipped a condom over his cock. he grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to prop your pussy up for him at the perfect angle. he took his cock and tapped it against your clit. "wake up, sleepy girl." you only whined and tried to close your legs but he forced himself between them so you couldn't.

your eyes snapped open when you felt the intrusion of his cock. "uhhh..." you let out a mixture of a moan and a whine. the stretch burned because no matter how wet you were, rafe was objectively big, especially the mushroom tip of it. you didn't know if it was the liquor, the weed, or what, but you could basically picture what it looked like based on the way it felt inside you.

rafe gave you no time to adjust and set a punishing pace off the bat. he had one of his large hands splayed over your stomach, pushing down and making you let out a short, loud moan. "let me hear you. wanna hear how good i fuck this pussy." rafe grunted while thrusting in and out.

you, in your state, were incredibly embarrassed no matter how good he hit your spots so you were barely letting any noise escape your mouth.

"always playing hard to get... you're gushing around my cock... and making a mess on my sheets... but you still act all stuck up..." rafe spat at you through his teeth and you let out another high pitched whine. he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his balls now slapping your ass with vigor. "gotta put you in your place, huh?"

he flipped you over and pulled you onto all fours. his hand splayed across your back this time and pushed your chest into the bed, creating a beautiful arch to your back. "so fuckin pretty." he moaned when the slid back into your tight warmth. the change of position did nothing to help you hold onto the little composure you had as he was now deeper than before, mushroom tip generously rubbing against your g-spot and his balls now smacking your clit. you were too far gone to care how you looked throwing your hips back against his. "fucking slut." he grunted, grabbing a handful of your hair. "y'wanted this huh? yeah, yeah, you been needing this huh?"

you could only moan as he painfully gripped your hair and pushed himself balls deep, rolling his hips against yours. "you like the way i fuck you baby?"

"mhm..." you had your eyes closed as you focused on the tension building in your stomach. a heavy hand landed a smack against your ass.

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..." you desperately moaned out.

"good girl." rafe pushed your head back into the bed and drilled his cock into you brutally. you were struggling to hold your hips up, but rafe held you up with one arm. "fuck... m'gonna cum. y'gonna let me cum in this pussy?" rafe grunted and pulled out, sliding the condom off before thrusting back into you. "there we go." he spoke through gritted teeth. "thatagirl, pussy feels like heaven."

you felt the difference and opened your mouth to protest but all that came out was unintelligible pants and moans.

then you saw white.

your orgasm washed over you, making your pussy clench and flutter and cream around rafes cock. you felt rafes hips stutter against yours and then you felt hot ropes of cum paint your insides. you couldn't stop moaning because rafe was still inside you, slowly thrusting and rubbing your clit. "so fucking tight..." he commented as he watched the way your pussy suctioned his cock and pulled out.

against your knowledge, rafe had been recording since he got you in doggy and was still recording. "shit..." he groaned as he focused the camera on your glistening pussy. a drop of his cum came dribbling out and he pushed it back in, earning a soft "ahhh..." from you. he played with your sensitive cunt until you came again for the camera and passed out.

when you woke up, you were alone. for a brief moment, you hadn't remembered what happened and were just confused as to where you were. you peered around the room and saw your dress and torn panties and it all came rushing back. the drinks, the sesh, having sex with rafe cameron. he must have changed you because you didn't remember putting on one of his shirts or sweats.

you checked your phone and your parents had been blowing you up since 8am. it was noon. you had missed calls from esther and a series of texts that said she couldn't find you in the morning and hopes you made it home safe. "shit." you groaned and got out of bed, legs sore from the sex you could only remember flashes of. you tidied the room up and changed back into your clothes before walking downstairs with your heels in hand. you slowed as you reached the foyer, hearing voices from the parlor.

"i don't know dude, doesn't feel right to watch this."

"she was totally cool with it, c'mon."

"you're gonna wanna see this."

you recognized the voices as topper, rafe, and kelce. then a video began playing and at first it just sounded like porn, then you realized it was your moans streaming through rafes phone.

"you like the way i fuck you?"

"mhm..."

"use your words. you like my cock?"

"i love it..."

"good girl."

you felt sick to your stomach as you heard the boys commenting on the video. how could you be so stupid? of course rafe would record you without permission while you were off your ass last night. you only blamed yourself as you walked home from tannyhill.

the video followed you around over the summer and you only managed to escape it when you went off to college.

rafe never thought twice about you after that.

JACKSONVILLE: Present.

rafe stared at your instagram feed in utter disbelief. he hadn't thought about you or the video since that summer. he honestly forgot it even happened. he wasn't a douchebag, he was a handsome young man who took all the opportunities presented to him (as he told himself). was sending the video around immature and stupid? probably. he was a kid though. everyone makes mistakes, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself as he looked through old pictures of you. did you remember him? you must have. you looked different from the last time he saw you but he looked the same. you definitely knew who he was the second he came into the study room and he didn't know how to feel about that. it made his job easier and harder. he already had a connection with you, but he would have to go through a grueling apology process that he really didn't care for. he just needed to have you.

as he scrolled into the more recent stuff, he couldn't help but notice that you didn't post jj on here at all. the page was a monument to you, all the better, and you were gorgeous on here. 2k followers with 1k likes on every post you made and comments that varied from "you're so gorgeous" to "just give me one chance." you had a highlight titled "my <3" and there was only one picture of you holding jj's hand with the song "melting" by kali uchis which was posted only a month ago.

he left your profile and went into his camera roll, into the hidden folder and scrolled back to 2018. he found the video and pressed play, his cock getting hard immediately and straining against his pants. soon enough, he had his phone pressed to his ear and his hand down his pants as he watched you and kie gathering firewood. soon enough, he was cumming in his hand to the sound of you saying that you loved his cock.

rafe managed to clean up a little and continued to watch you, well into the night as you and your friends built a bonfire and smoked a joint. it was midnight when you all had decided to leave. he followed the dirty old van back to campus and learned where your dorm was, watching you and jj head in.

rafe made it back to his dorm at around 3:30am. the more he learned, the more questions he had. rafe fell asleep with only one thing on his mind.

you.

[farfromstrange]

Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions. 

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you. 

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc. 

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on. 

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips. 

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders. 

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it. 

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly. 

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?” 

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing. 

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with. 

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you. 

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim. 

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself. 

Fuck. Me. 

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right. 

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning. 

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin. 

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set. 

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts. 

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you. 

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him. 

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her. 

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants. 

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company. 

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic. 

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin. 

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for. 

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.” 

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.  

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say. 

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt. 

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know. 

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway. 

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you. 

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?” 

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features. 

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him. 

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him. 

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care. 

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth. 

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds. 

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop. 

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say. 

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐃𝐚𝐲 ᝰ ☕︎ 📂 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⤳ synopsis: Nanami asks you to come into work tomorrow for overtime, but it’s supposed to be your day off.

genre: smut

⤳ a/n: got inspired by an animated clip in twt….I can’t find it though :(

⤳ tags: power dynamics, backshots (me next nanami), praise, vulgar, explicit, office sex-

⤳ wrd cnt: 1.9k

You sat down in your crummy office chair, staring at the mountain of paperwork ahead of you. It was the most interesting site in your boring middle office, view covered with the big cinder block building that no one rented. All you could think about was the fact that tomorrow was supposed to be your day off. Supposed to.

You had been looking forward to a relaxing evening, catching up on all your half watched shows and indulging in some much-needed self care.

However, as usual, your boss Nanami had other plans. You could hear his voice over the little radio in your office phone, calling you into his office for a moment.

You sighed, knowing that it was probably another project that needed to be finished urgently.

You walk into him staring at his laptop with a look of overwhelmed dread. 
“Y/n, I know tomorrow is supposed to be your day off, but I was hoping you could come in for some overtime, it’s much needed” he said casually, leaning back in his chair.
You couldn't help but feel a rush of annoyance. You were scared your eye was about to start twitching infront of him.

This wasn't the first time he had asked you to sacrifice your time off for work, and you were beginning to feel resentful towards him. But as soon as you opened your mouth to protest, he continued.
“I know it's asking a lot, but I promise it'll be worth it. I can't do this project without you. And besides, I'll make it up to you,” he added with a charming smile.

That walking company credit card better get you some pad thai, at the very least. 
You looked into his eyes and felt all your resolve weakening. You knew you couldn't resist the allure of his persuasive words and his stupid handsome face. And deep down, you were a little curious about what he meant by 'making it up to me.'
Maybe a raise? 
“Okay, I understand.” you reluctantly agreed, trying to sound firm but failing.
“Great, I'll see you tomorrow night then,” he said, giving you a smile before he saw you out.

The rest of tomorrow was quite dull, there really was no one but you, your boss, and a few strangling assistants trying to keep up with agendas and filings.

It was finally 6pm, and your overtime started.

You made your way to Nanami’s office with most of your belongings and the rest of the stack of papers you had procrastination on the day before.

Before you had a chance to knock on his office door, it swung open with Nanami inches away from your face, quickly backing up, startled.

'Y/n- Sorry, I was just about to go get you. Please, have a seat,” Kento said as he closed the door behind him. “I appreciate you staying late to help me with this. You've been a great asset to the department”.

You blushed and mumbled a thank you, feeling flustered by his words. You had to admit, as much as your boss annoyed you from time to time. You truly looked up to him, and a compliment from Kento made you feel much more confident about your capabilities. But as you looked up at him, you noticed the way he was staring at you.

It wasn't just appreciation, it was something more. “I have to admit,” Kento continued, walking behind and around your seated form to plop down into his desk chair across from you. “I've been watching you. Your dedication to your work ethic, your intelligence….your beauty. I've expected a lot from you, and I’m glad I was right to do so.”

You were at a loss for words, your heart pounding in your chest. You never imagined that Kento, your strict and unapproachable boss, would have paid so much attention to you. But here he was, confessing all this in front of you, his eyes burning into you with every word.

Before you could say anything, Kento smiled and looked down to your lips, and back to your eyes before opening up his laptop and crossing his legs, leaning back into his chair as you tried to form words.

You were taken by surprise, and you didn’t fully register everything he said, especially the part where he told you how beautiful he thought you were.

“Thank you- Mr. Nanami.” You said, gulping slightly and trying to fill the silence.

He twirled a pen with his fingers while replying to you, “Call me Kento, you’ve earned it.”

You nod, getting to work on the shared desk.

The two of you exchanged more details on the work at hand, hours went by and it certainly felt like it.

You let out a big yawn, small droplets forming in your eyes. It was already midnight.

“Oh dear…we’ve been here quite a while huh? Let’s take a break, stretch our legs.” He suggested.

“Sure, would you like to get some coffee?” You offered.

“I’m okay, how about you?”

“I actually…don’t even like coffee”, you confess.

Nanami lets out a deep chuckle, catching you off guard a little as it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh.

“Y/n, there’s something I’d like to share with you. I find it now to be quite appropriate.”

Your curiosity is peaked, silently hoping for something more than just a raise.

“You’ve shown how loyal you are to this team. I’d like to offer you a promotion to senior management. We can talk more on the details later, but I look forward to sharing them with you.”

You eyes widen, this was a promotion you didn’t expect til the next few years.

Trying to stay as professional as possible, you say, “Yes! I would-“ you jump up, trying to calm down a little but it’s a little too late. Without even thinking you hug Nanami, surprisingly he hugs you back, lifting you up a bit off the floor since you pounced on him and all.

It only got worse, you may have accidentally kissed him too.

Could you blame yourself? His hands hugged your back in a way that felt too welcoming, and when you pulled away from the hug in trying to reclaim your professional manner, you swear it was like a slo motion film, where your eyes met; lips slowly pressing together.

His lips were soft yet demanding, almost like he wished for this more than you did. His tongue teased yours as his hands roamed over your back. 
“Miss Y/n,” Kento whispered against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine, “You should really be more careful.”

Before you knew it, he had you lifted up into his hold. He placed you onto his desk, throwing the rest of your unfinished stack to the floor in a swift motion. His hands engulfed the sides of your face as he took your lips into another dance, standing in between your legs. The authority and control he had in the office now seemed to transfer to this encounter, and you were putty in his hands, melting into his palms.

You soon felt his kisses trail down to your jaw.

“Nanami-“ You gasp.

“What did I tell you before. Call me Kento. I need you to.” He whispered into your ear, pulling your hair to make you look at him. You nod, as he makes your head lean back, giving him ample space to place kisses to your exposed neck as you sat on his desk, the paperwork as unimportant as ever.

“Yes- Kento…please- need more…”

You moan, your words shaky as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently before soothing it with his tongue.

His hand trails down your body, his fingers slipping under the hem of your pencil skirt, teasing the skin of your inner thighs before finally meeting the dampened fabric of your panties.

“You’re so wet for me already. Did you think about this all day, imagining my hands on you?” He asks, his fingers starting to rub against your clothed core, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Yes-! Please Kento…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how badly I wanted you to fuck me…” You admit, feeling a sense of freedom in sharing your desires with him after all his vulnerability towards you.

“Mmm, I’m so glad we’re on the same page. Tell me how badly you need me sweetheart.” He commands, his voice low and husky, only adding to the heat between you two. You whimper, feeling his fingers pressing harder against you, the fabric of your panties becoming damper with your arousal.

“Please, Kento. I need you, I need you to fuck me. I want to feel you fill me up, I want you to make me yours, completely.”

You plead, feeling the desire and lust pulsing through your body. But Kento is not one to give in easily, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. “Thats it, you’re such a good girl.”

He smirks, hiking your skirt up as he kneels down before you and pulls your thighs closer to his face.

He looks up at you with eyes of dark endearment, moving your panties to the side before diving down to bury his face between your thighs. His tongue works magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you grip onto his hair tightly as you try not to scream his name. He already knows just how to push all your pleasure buttons, his fingers slowly tracing your folds before entering you with two fingers, curling them to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

Your superior, knelt down and serving your cunt right before your eyes.

“Fuck, Kento. I-I can’t-” You pant, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. He pulls away, making you whimper at the loss of contact.

“No, not yet. I want to be inside you when you come.” He stands up, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his pants. You can’t help but admire his toned, muscular body as he grips you hips to turn you over, forcing you down onto the hard desk, tits pressed against it with his hand pressing down on your lower back to make your ass grind up against his hard, throbbing cock.

He positions himself at your entrance, slipping his dick up and down your dripping folds, coated with your arousal, his spit, and his pre-cum leaking tip.

He slaps it on your ass a little too, making sure to savor every part of you.

“Look at me.” He commanded, waiting for you to turn your head back to meet his eyes.

He slowly pushed into you, making you gasp and grip onto the desk for support. He almost came right then and there from watching your eyes wince at his size.

He starts off slow, but it doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become rough and demanding.

Your entire body burns, a sensation so deep and guttural.

You feel Kentos hand snake up to your neck from behind, pulling you up off the desk, arching your back into him deeper, his cock finding spots in your cunt untouched to anyone else as he fucked you deeper.

“Do you like this, dirty girl? When your boss fucks your hard like this? You’re so tight around me.”

“Oh God, Kento. Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out, feeling yourself reaching your peak. He matches your moans with his own, the sound echoing through the room. The tension builds, until you both reach your climax together, panting and moaning each other’s names. Kento doesn’t pull out of you, not until he’s finished making sure you’re full to the brim. Only then, he’ll pull out and watch all his cum drip out of you and onto the edge of the desk. He might even fuck it back into you.

His gift to you, for your new promotion.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[sleeepybeary]

☆ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 ☆

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓: Your painting skills are a little... off?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,002

“Hold still, would you? I need to focus” Agatha's voice was that of a shattering jar amongst the waves of pristine silence, an anomaly in the mix.

Why were you sitting in silence?

That question fell short of explanations as you stared into the blue eyes of your girlfriend - feeling absolutely enamoured at the way she looked. With a slight crease between her eyebrows and a pensive fog encapsulating her eyes - a wrinkle at the edges of her nose - she was absolutely stunning.

“But… I don't know if I can find it in me to remain posed” you responded in a hushed comment, blinking a few times as to capture her expressions change in smaller clips at a time.

She tuts, raising her brush covered in a black coating of paint and pressing it to the tip of your nose.

Your face was already slathered in a cool mask of paint, so to feel the brush press against your skin made little difference now - no longer sending a gentle chill down your spine.

“I'll have to hold you at brush point then” She grins, her teeth making a point to shine through her lips as she does so. “Now close your eyes so we can hurry this up”

Following her words, your eyes fall into a shuttered state, finding the strokes of her loosened wrist almost calming as it leaves a tickling trail across your eyelids.

A few minutes pass before Agatha claps her hands together in a self appreciative applause, holding the end of the paint brush within her mouth. She looked proud, a hypothetical badge of pride being gifted and handed to her self-esteem.

“Can I see now?” You blinked, watching as Agatha grew quick to fetch you a hand mirror, twisting it within her palm to reveal her art upon your skin.

Gazing back at you was your painted reflection. Your skin had reached a point of unrecognition through the ten minute long challenge Agatha had tricked you into, using one of her infamous “you know you love me?” lines.

You were depicted to be that of a cat, from what you could assume anyway.

“Don't you look adorable, my love?” She grins, finally placing the paint brush down.

“I'm… a black cat?” You tilted your head.

“Not just any black cat” she rolled her eyes, folding her arms “you're our black cat. You're Eve!”

Your eyes involuntarily scan the room, looking for any sign of your now adopted black cat for a comparison. Though, she was nowhere to be found.

“Anyway” she dragged her arms through the air, flicking her wrists, before she sat down in the chair opposite you. “It's my turn now”

Letting a sigh brush past your lips and enter the atmosphere, you stand and reach for your own paint brush, grabbing one of her larger ones to help apply the base layer first.

“Just so you're aware, I have absolutely no faith in myself that this will turn out as something you'd be able to guess without knowing the actual inspiration”

Agatha shakes her head slightly, a smile blossoming upon her features. “I'm sure I'll be able to guess. Don't you worry that pretty little face of yours”

Pursing your lips, your wrist begins to twist against the surface of her face, covering as much as you could in one go before drowning and soaking your brush in the hearty dollop of paint again.

Paint. Soak. Paint. Soak.

You followed the basic principles, being swallowed and utterly engulfed by the silence that yet again took a hold of your situation until the timer ran low on just a minute remaining.

At that point, a blended hue of white and green was being used as a construct for details, using them to draw lines and curves where you saw fit.

“I can feel how warm you are when you're this close” There she goes again, breaking the balance of peace once more.

“Has anyone ever told you that speaking your mind isn't always necessarily a good thing?”

She scoffed lightheartedly, peeking at you through her closed eyelids. “I'd say it's going pretty well. I mean, you decided to date me; if that's not what you call going well, then I don't know what could be classified as such”

You ignore her words as you push through the last remaining moments, finding your concentration poisoned with every passing stroke of paint as it gains in a distaste for quality.

“Times up, babe” Agatha mumbles, pulling herself away from you, her hand wrapping around your wrist. Her eyes glimmer in a coat of impatience once they re-open, her hand instantly taking hold of the mirror.

Though, as Agatha examined herself within her reflection, you took the moment to look over just what exactly you had created upon her once beautiful face.

You were aiming for a dragon, but with the random flicks and half complete lines that were supposed to be scales, she looks more like some slime monster if anything else.

Biting back a look of embarrassment, your self-restraint almost chokes you as your girlfriend's face goes through the motions of every possible expression to have ever existed.

At first, she looked ecstatic; then confused; then frustrated; then partly sad; and now she just looks like she's standing at some crossroad between all of the previous ones.

"I'm... a flower?" She glances at you from behind the mirror, a half-built grin upon her lips.

Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose, plaguing your fingertips with black paint in a smearing between skin as you do so. "You're meant to be a dragon..."

"I look more like grass!" She snorts out a boisterous laugh, her head tilting back slightly, leaving show for her half painted underchin. "We should get you to partake in those painting classes they hold every Tuesday"

"Agatha!" You gasp as your eyes grow wide. "That's for children!"

"Exactly!"

“You're actually so evil, you know that, right?” You glance away, holding eye contact with some old painting on the wall, avoiding the cheshire grin that she put up front for you.

"Maybe... but you wouldn't have me any other way. Now let me show you what you done wrong."

[pandapetals]

Slim Pickins

logan howlett x fem!reader- angsty, reader lowkey hates logan, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song slim pickens

read on Ao3

Without a doubt, you knew you were going to end up alone. The thought crept in after every disappointing date, every one-night stand that left you cold, every late-night text that led nowhere. All the guys you met were the same—douchebags with oversized egos and nothing real to offer. It was a pattern you couldn't break, a cycle that seemed destined to repeat. Why was it so hard to find a decent guy?

You didn’t even need perfect. You weren’t looking for some fairy-tale romance or a knight in shining armor. You just wanted someone who didn’t make you feel like you were settling for less than you deserved.

Then there was Logan.

You’d sized him up the moment you met him—jacked, rough around the edges, with a perpetual scowl and a short temper to match. He walked like he owned the room, his shoulders tense, his eyes dark, and he had the kind of attitude that practically screamed “trouble.” You’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, dismissing him in an instant. He wasn’t your type. You knew his kind. And after a few clipped conversations, you were more than certain Logan was exactly the kind of guy you couldn’t stand.

“Douchebag,” you’d muttered after he’d walked off from another pointless exchange.

And you didn’t hold back either. You bitched and complained about him to anyone who’d listen—Charles, Scott, Storm, anyone within earshot of your growing frustration.

“He’s impossible,” you’d said one night over beers with Storm, your voice rising with indignation. “He’s not a team player, doesn’t listen to anyone, and doesn’t even get me started on his attitude. You know what he said to me earlier?”

Storm had given you a knowing look but let you rant anyway. Everyone had opinions about Logan, after all. He was easy to dislike, a ball of raw energy, constantly on the edge of something dark and dangerous.

“He’s just... ugh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get why anyone puts up with him.”

But deep down, beneath all the complaining, something gnawed at you. Something you didn’t want to admit.

You hadn’t seen it right away—not until one mission changed everything.

It had been chaotic, a nightmare situation where nothing went as planned. The team had been dispatched to rescue a group of mutant kids who had been captured by some underground militia. The operation had gone sideways almost immediately. You’d been cornered, pinned down by enemy fire, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as panic crept in. And then—Logan.

You saw him, right in the thick of it, moving with a kind of brutal precision that took your breath away. He tore through the enemy lines like it was nothing, claws flashing, his eyes wild and fierce. But what caught you wasn’t the violence—it was the way he threw himself into the rescue without a second thought. No hesitation, no fear, just pure instinct as he fought his way to those kids.

The moment you saw him lift one of the terrified children into his arms, shielding them from harm with his own body, something inside you shifted. He wasn’t careful, wasn’t gentle, but there was a raw protectiveness in his actions that hit you like a punch to the gut.

You watched him take down another wave of attackers, blood streaking his face, his body moving like a machine—powerful, unrelenting. And then, as he brought the last of the kids to safety, something unexpected flared in your chest.

Respect.

He was more than your first impression.

You didn’t want to admit it, but Logan wasn’t just the hot-tempered, arrogant jerk you’d made him out to be. There was something deeper there, something you’d been too quick to write off. The way he fought, the way he protected those kids, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help—it unsettled you. Because it meant you’d been wrong about him.

Being wrong about Logan was a lot more dangerous than you wanted to acknowledge.

Days passed after that mission, but you couldn’t shake the image of him—the way he’d looked standing there, bloodied but unbroken, with a kid clinging to him like he was some kind of savior. The frustration you felt toward him softened, and changed. You found yourself noticing things about him you hadn’t before. The way his gruffness wasn’t just aggression, but a shield. The way he stayed on the fringes of the group, never quite fitting in, but always there when it mattered.

You didn’t complain about him as much after that. You didn’t have much to say when Scott made some offhand comment about Logan’s attitude or when Storm chuckled about his lone-wolf tendencies. Instead, you found yourself defending him in small, subtle ways, even if it was just a quiet “He gets the job done.”

It was a shift you didn’t want to admit, but one that was impossible to ignore. The more you tried to fight it, the more you felt the pull.

And Logan—he noticed.

You’d catch him watching you now, his dark eyes lingering longer than before, his smirk a little less cocky, a little more curious. He never said much, never one for words, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

One night, after a particularly long and exhausting mission, you found yourself alone with him in the briefing room. Everyone else had already left, and you were sorting through some files when Logan approached, his boots heavy on the floor. You didn’t look up, but your body tensed, already attuned to his presence.

“You were good out there,” he said gruffly, voice low and gravelly.

You glanced up, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” you muttered, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren’t his style, and it threw you off balance.

Logan leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “You’re not as annoying as I thought,” he added, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “High praise coming from you.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with something that felt different now. Less hostile, more... charged. You didn’t know what to do with it, and this new dynamic was between you. It wasn’t the same as before, but you weren’t sure what it was either.

Logan pushed off the table and started to walk away, but then paused, looking back at you over his shoulder. “See you around, kid.”

You scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m not a kid, Logan.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Yeah. I know.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding harder than it should have been, your mind racing with thoughts you weren’t ready to unpack.

Logan wasn’t perfect. Hell, he was far from it. Maybe there was more to him than you’d given him credit for.

That scared you more than anything.

[kozachenko]

(Click the image for better quality)

Yipeeee that Keiki and Mayumi fanart I posted the WIP of is finally done woooo- This piece was a very experimental one that I'm kind of OK on. Maybe because I've just gone insane looking at it for so long and I'm my own worst critic lol.

Artist's Notes;

So I've once again been playing around with my rendering style, mainly because I have been wanting to improve my lighting for a while now and as I was just scrolling through Tumblr, I saw some of the official art for that one webcomic-turned-animated-TV-Show Lackadaisy and was immediately inspired. I also have seen a technique a few times in the past where the lineart and shading are merged together, so I've been meaning to try that for a little while.

I did some experimentation on this one sketch of Keiki I posted in my sketch dump and I really liked the results of it, so I carried those over to this piece.

I ended up scaling up Keiki and Mayumi from the original WIP because I felt like they were both getting lost in the composition, and I'm glad for that because I think it works a lot better. I'm not a fan of how Mayumi's sword turned out at all, but it's not really meant to be the focus of the piece so eh. Overall, I think I could do better with my colours, probably because with Keiki and Mayumi's colours, I did them flat in greyscale and then used a brush on the overlay blend mode to colour all of them over, after which I changed the base layer for their colours from white to yellow and then lowered the opacity so it all went together better. I also decided to use gradient maps for a lot of the background elements, mainly to experiment with getting in my values first to make them pop out more. I ended up finding a really nice sky gradient on Clip Studio Paint that I really liked, and that kinda helped to establish the colour scheme of the background a lot. I think the whole "start in greyscale then colour" thing really works better with painterly styles rather than more illustrative ones, and while it is good at making sure your values are more readable, I honestly don't think I have the skill level to pull that off yet. Honestly, I think I've been looking at this drawing too long or maybe I added too much to it, but I wish I could've made the colours less monochromatic, but I'll just save that for the next piece I do.

I do love how the flame (...well it's more of a weird space rift than anything in this piece) and the lighting turned out, those were fun to do. I was initially struggling with the flame and how Mayumi is positioned in front of it before realizing "Oh wait! This is a weird abstraction of a weird creature! I don't have to follow the laws of anatomy!" and just dislocated it's flamey bottom jaw from the main body. I also changed the colours of it since I was really not liking how incredibly bright it was when it had lighter colours. Again, the gradient maps served the more painterly style of the flames well.

I also love how Mayumi turned out. I could do her sleeves better but that's more of just me needing to study how those types of sleeves fold in that position more. I'm also very happy with the posing, the technique I used for that was taking photos of myself in the positions I wanted, blocking in the silhouette and then modifying that by adjusting it to my lines of action that I drew on top of the original photos, and then sketching over the silhouettes and drawing in the shapes of the hands overtop of the photo if I needed to get the fine details right. As for what I do to take the pictures myself, I use a tall chair I have, prop up my phone with a phone stand, put on a ten second timer and scramble to get in position. Yes, I did have to use a bunch of thin markers I had to try and get the hand positioning on Keiki's pose right, yes I do have a fake sword that I used to get the positioning of Mayumi's arms and hand right, the sword was for an old Halloween costume from several years ago. I really like how both Keiki and Mayumi turned out in this drawing, I'll have to play around with these designs for them more in future drawings.

Also, if you wanna know why I draw buildings like that, when I watched Fantasia 2000 as a kid (One of the Disney movies where they make really beautiful animations to classical music) the way they drew the buildings in the first few sections Rhapsody in Blue segment (the jazz one with the cities) changed my brain chemistry and now whenever I need to draw buildings really quickly, I refer back to that. Since the buildings aren't really the main subject, I didn't put much thought into them.

As you can tell I am very tired of this piece, mainly because I made things harder for myself by overcomplicating the process compared to what I usually do, mainly with the whole "starting in grayscale then adding colour." I'd honestly just prefer having a black layer set to colour that I can just toggle on and off when I need to see the values, but it was good to experiment. And that was mainly the point of this whole drawing, to experiment. I'm definitely going to have to play around with this new style I'm going for, mainly because I liked how it turned out a lot in the augmented Keiki sketch, and also because I want to find ways of making it suit my style more. I also really want to keep experimenting with my lighting like this, it's very fun. Last but not least I am never starting in greyscale again because dear god I do not like the workflow it forced me into. I don't have a problem with the method itself it's mainly just a skill issue lol.

If you wanna read my headcanons for these two, I put them in my WIP post, so you can read them there if you want to. The more I look at this the more I prefer the simplicity of my WIP. I might go back to this and just take away the fancy colours and effects to see what it looks like without all of that stuff and reblog this post with that drawing, but for now, I don't think I can look at this drawing again for a while.

[yellow-py]

hello! you've probably been asked these before, but i'm here to ask how long it typically takes for you to make animatics, if you have any tips, preferred methods, and what you use? i saw your funger animatic and it looks absolutely gorgeous! i love all the detail that's jam-packed into the art and story telling, so i'm curious about your animatic process.

sorry if this is a lot! no need to answer if you don't want to. i love your stuff and i wish you well!

Hi! I don't mind answering some questions!

First things first, I'm not a professional storyboards artist. I've done a few things for some youtube channels. I wouldn't call myself an expert. This is to say that my method of doing things might not the best for people who actually work in the industry. 

Most of the time I work in Storyboard pro 7. But honestly, any editing software works as long as it can handle pictures and audio. For the disco elysium animatic I only used  clip studio paint and some random editing program called Camtasia. It worked alright but it takes a bit longer to finish stuff since storyboard pro is more streamlined. My go-to method right not is to draw the backgrounds in clip studio and the characters and editing in storyboard pro. That way, I get the best of both worlds. 

The funger animatic took about 2 and a half weeks to make. It usually takes longer, but the song wasn't that long so that saved me a lot of time. But as another example, my disco elysium animatic took +3 months. So it really depends. I did work longer on each frame for that one tho, so idk. On average, it takes me about 2 months. But that number keeps going up since my expectations of myself keep rising. 

Anyhow! I'll be bringing up my fear and hunger animatic as an example of my process. 

My animatics usually start out having the ugliest thumbnails known to man. It does let me experiment with framing and timing, which is absolutely crucial. I do not recommend that people start refining frames without having planned out things beforehand.

After that, I just save every thumbnail and import it to storyboard pro. I just scale it up to the current canvas size. Then I just line up every frame with the audio. It is a little bit tedious but you gotta do what you gotta do. 

After that, I begin to draw the backgrounds in clip studio. I do the same thing as in storyboard pro and just size the thumbnail up. And then I just sketch over that! Technically, I could have drawn the backgrounds in storyboard pro. But their brushes are pretty uggo so I prefer to not do that :)

As dumb as it might sound, it kind of stresses me out when my storyboards aren't "pretty". Which is pretty stupid since storyboards are literally made only to be a guide for what an animation should be. so in actuality, it's alright if they're kinda crusty. But since I never intend to animate my animatics I find it nice to spend more time on each frame. Which is sorta stupid because I'm shooting myself in the foot by working so long on every frame...

Either way, after that, I import the new backgrounds into storyboard pro and begin to draw the characters. Technically I could draw them in clip studio as well. But its faster to draw them in story board pro and it also allows me to do some semi-animated things and work faster. So, after a lot of experimenting, clip studio backgrounds and storyboard pro characters is the way to go for me! 

And just to note. This animatic might have only taken about 2 and a half weeks. Which sounds pretty good. But when it comes to animatics I can become a real workaholic if im inspired enough. So every day after school I would sit non stop working on this from the second I got home to when it was time to sleep. As well as every second of the weekend after I was done with my chores. So that is to say I work pretty fast and persistently, which i know is not healthy or realistic. So take my timing with a grain of salt. 

But that's kinda my process. I just draw backgrounds and draw characters until the thing is done. 

If I had to give any advice, I would say it's important to have fun when making animatics as a hobby. When I make an animatic, it's because I personally want to see that animatic, and if other people like it, that is a plus! If you're excited about an idea, it'll be a lot easier to add fun details and soul into it. 

But yeah that's it. I can't really come up with anything else to say. I hope I gave some good insight!

[bromcommie]

so I was digging through the Vast Legally Grey Junkyards of the Internet in search of better quality footage from AoU for my edits, specifically the scene with the CA FASCIST grafitti in Sokovia—which I unfortunately didn't find, but what I DID find was a bunch of deleted/expanded scenes that I didn't know/didn't care enough to pay attention to before. Which is fine. Most of it is techno babble and rushed plot setup. However. This stupid-ass ten second clip makes me literally insane. It makes me. Want to kill and maim and chew on the bars of my enclosure. And not in the sense that the contents make me oh-so-emotional, but because the potential of them could. Because what do you mean.

What do you mean those four and a half lines were cut for pacing/time when it's a ten second difference and the rest of the scene is in the film anyway. What do you mean you cut it because it didn't fit the narrative. It's literally couched in two minutes of plot it could've been so easy to slip it in there. A passing reference that would add at least a smidgen of depth to both the (already fucking incomprehensible) plot + politics of the antagonists, and to one of the main fucking characters. Like you were SO close what do you mean you cut every feeble attempt that was made to scratch the surface of Steve's character outside the whole nightmare scene we're supposed to feel so bad about what do you MEAN.

The fact that this minimal exchange—paired with that graffiti scene where Steve is confronted with the actual legacy of Captain America and what he's come to mean to people around the world and then quite physically discards the identity + him still circling back to the mantle at the end of the film anyway because he doesn't know how to do or be anything else, feels like he's too changed for this idea of a normal life that stems from before the war and the ice and doesn't know how to live without carrying that, without being useful in this one specific way—has more meat on its bones in the whole lead up to Civil War and ultimately Endgame than half of this movie's sledgehammer-over-the-head lines about home and family with Barton's kids laughing in the background or whatever like some fucked up C list hallmark movie is downright infuriating to me because like. You clearly thought about it. It passed through your head. You wrote some version of it into the scene. You shot it and edited it and watched it a few times and then you went "nah off it goes to the cutting room floor, we have enough of that. Add those seven and a half seconds to the 20-minute long, entirely CGI Hulk sequence, that we need more of. Surely that will fix the pacing issue".

Side note: this is me not even getting into the fact that, at this point in the franchise, this would have been one of the few lines we'd get of Maria actually saying something or interacting with anyone in a way that is even marginally removed (which this barely is) from simply delivering plot information. This is the only time we kinda get her view on something or even an inkling that she used to be a goddamn intelligence agent. And how that history informs her view of the situation and how it could possibly clash with Steve's own. And that woman is in every fucking movie. (Not to mention the fact that the two of them were just in a movie together, for Christ's sake, and going through something together you could pretty fairly characterize as traumatic and bond-inspiring to boot—and in AoU we can barely tell they even know each other. I mean the bar is so low and they still managed to limbo right under it.)

[angelatmidnight1]

I just started Baldur's Gate 3 and would love some ler! tword hesdcanons for Astarion if you're feeling inspired? I saw some of his lines on YouTube Shorts and he's literally the reason I'm now playing, Lord help me. 😭🤣 I'm super early game(like, just met him, Shadowheart and Gale) but I do know what species he is, and know a certain something he tries at camp at some point- 👀

I will definitely write a tword fic for him at some point because the need for him to wreck me is strong, but some headcanons to encourage me to keep going to see the story, as I adjust to the gameplay and how it works would be so appreciated! ❤️ Again, only if you feel inspired for it though, no pressure and I hope you're staying hydrated lovely! 😊

A/N: Sure! Astarion's the reason I bought the game too. I saw a few clips of him on TikTok and added the game to cart 😅 I have a reader/Astarion fic somewhere in my drafts, but please tag me whenever you create yours. I'd love to see :D

Anyways, here's ler!Astarion. I hope I captured his personality okay. I'll add a tiny warning that this may come off a tad spicy, cause it's Astarion haha, but it isn't NSFW.

Ler!Astarion Tickle Headcanons

“Darling, you’re ticklish? Aha, how adorable.”

Astarion’s had a couple centuries to practice the art of gentle, and sometimes ticklish, touches. Of course he takes up the opportunity to work his craft. 

He’ll say the sweetest things to beckon his lee closer, with fleeting touches along sides and hips. “Come here, my dear. I promise I’ll be as gentle as a babe. Just a bit closer, hm?”

More words, sweet as honey, until he has his lee pinned under him. No matter the position, he wants physical contact the whole time. “Mm, I always did enjoy how you looked beneath me.”

He loves it when his lees become shy and flustered. It encourages his flirtatious antics even more. But, if they don’t? That’s okay. He loves a good challenge. 

Astarion’s touch is deliberate, but light and teasy. He takes his time to find the spots that make his lee squeal, and claws over it with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My, you are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

Eye contact is huge with Astarion; he drinks in his lees’ every reaction to his tickles. Every little giggle, gasp, squeak. His lee has never looked more beautiful, and he’s sure to tell them just that.

Speaking of drinking, it’s too tempting not to think about all of the blood pumping through his lee’s veins while he tickles them. He won’t drink without permission, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in other ways.

“I could eat you right up, darling. And you know what? I think I will..” 

Astarion knows how to use his fangs with just enough pressure to tickle, and if he’s especially close with his lee, nowhere is safe from his nibbles. 

His favorite place to nibble are necks, but he’s also fond of ribs, hips, and thighs. He’ll love if his lee is especially sensitive to his light biting. “Gods, you are delectable. And those precious little giggles of yours just make you all the more sweeter.~” 

He could tease and tickle his lee all night, but if they truly need a break, he’ll ease off…just expect him to be a lil’ pouty. 

“Stop? Already? But, I was having so much fun. And I can tell that you were, too. Must we end our playtime so soon? …Oh, fine. Just promise I won’t have to wait too long before I can have you again.”

Of course, Astarion doesn’t always have to have an easy time with his lees. He loves it when they’re stern or, if anything, when they don’t want to admit how ticklish they are.

“Pft, if you’re not ticklish, then I’m not a vampire. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find it rather cute. You can look a beast dead in its eye, so long as it doesn’t wiggle its claws at you, hah.”

He, like most, if not all vampires, loves a good hunt. He can and will pursue obstinate lees for fun. Having stealth on his side is a huge advantage. 

His fancy, airier voice turns growly when he’s on the hunt. And, those honeyed words become devilish taunts. 

“You might want to run faster, darling. I’m right behind you.~ Perhaps if you surrender, I’ll be merciful.” 

Astarion gets a huge ego boost if he manages to get a stubborn lee laughing. "My name sounds wonderful on your lips. But, I would love to hear a 'please'."

If he has to hunt his lee down, it'll be awhile before he lets them go. "You're all mine, tav. Laugh for me~."

[mktskii]

—Weirdest Homecoming of the Year

—Synopsis It’s homecoming season at U.A., and the chaos of midterms is behind you. Just when you think you can relax, Bakugou Katsuki, the explosive jerk who never seems to leave you alone, surprises you with a request that throws everything off balance. But his gruff demeanor hides a deeper longing that neither of you can fully grasp. As emotions collide and misunderstandings mount, can you both navigate the maze of feelings, and unspoken words to find something real amidst the chaos?

—Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB Support Course!Reader.

—Genre: Slow-burn romance, slice-of-life.

—Tags: Enemies-to-lovers, banter, RBF reader, not-so-grumpy x still grumpy, miscommunication, one-sided crush ENDS (YAY), support course expertise, Bakugo finally getting fine shytt (you), reader literally wants Bakugou so bad lol, reader wakes up from their denial and realizes they like Bakugou, hoco-inspiration lol.

—Notes: I genuinely wanted to end the series here but, no no no. Enjoy having to wait another long silencing week and gamble if this is gonna end or not. 😈 Also, reader finally not being mean??! Whattttt??

Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. When he wanted something, he’d go after it with every ounce of his being. So, why the hell was this so hard? You’d already picked Shinsou, and no amount of his griping, complaining, or subtle hint-dropping changed that. But he wasn’t one to give up. Especially not when he was finally beginning to understand why it bothered him so much.

As for you? The last few weeks had been weird.

The days leading up to the midterm review are quieter than expected. After the tense encounter in the Support Lab, Bakugou hadn’t bothered you, and you hadn’t exactly sought him out either. The only time you caught glimpses of him was in the cafeteria, or when he walked past the lab to “conveniently” drop off another piece of busted equipment that seemed to break way too frequently.

Bakugou, who normally stormed into your workspace like he owned the place, demanding fixes for things that definitely didn’t need fixing, had been… different. Quieter, maybe? Or more like, restrained. You weren’t sure how to put it, but you noticed. He wasn’t snapping at you as much, barely retaliated when you gave him a hard time. It was unsettling.

Today was no different. Bakugou had dropped by with his latest set: the infamous broken gauntlets—and not his phone for the 12 billionth time. You found yourself caught off guard by how calm he was as you worked, barely saying anything while you tinkered. The silence was so unlike him.

And then, just as you were about to hand his gauntlets back, you noticed his gaze lingering, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if holding back something. Red alarms blared in your head—Bakugou never just waited like this without yelling. Was he sick?

“Bakugou?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

He just grunted, crossing his arms tightly, his jaw clenching. You could almost see the gears grinding in his head, like he was forcing himself to keep quiet. It was unnerving.

“Spit it out already,” you pressed, annoyed at the tension building in the air.

For a moment, you thought he might explode—literally. But instead, Bakugou gave a sharp, frustrated exhale through his nose and pulled something out of his bookbag. You blinked, caught off guard by the sight of a massive, crumpled piece of paper. No—wait. It wasn’t just paper. It was… a poster?

You read the words, your heart rate picking up as Bakugou shoved it toward you, his cheeks tinted pink with frustration. The words “GO TO HOMECOMING WITH ME OR DIE” were messily scrawled in bold, angry letters, practically taking up the entire space. In a bright red marker, too. But that wasn’t the worst (best??) part.

The background had a collage of explosion clip art and..was that a small drawing of you and him with..SMILY FACES? It looked like a five-year-old had designed it.

“Bakugou… what the hell is this?” you muttered, completely baffled.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled, eyes darting away. “Tch. It's what it looks like, dumbass.”

For a second, you could only stare at the poster, completely dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or run for the hills. But the longer you stared, the harder it became to hold back a smile. This was… his way of asking you out?

Before you could form a response, Bakugou pulled out a small box of chocolates from inside his bookbag again, almost shoving it into your hands. The wrapper was pristine, the brand one you had mentioned liking once—one time—and he remembered. He wasn’t even looking at you now, staring at the wall like it might swallow him whole.

“So? You goin’ or not?” he asked, voice gruff. He sounded like he’d rather fight a villain than stand there waiting for your answer.

You blinked down at the chocolates, completely caught off guard by how personal the gesture felt. The aggressive, explosion-laden poster was definitely Bakugou, but this? He remembered the brand you liked. He remembered things about you. Wow.

“Bakugou… I…” You trailed off, your heart suddenly feeling a little too full. How long had he been paying attention to you like this?

He cut you off with a huff, clearly growing impatient. “Look, if you’re just gonna say no, then—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head with a small smile. “No, I wasn’t gonna say no. Yeah, I'll go with you.”

Bakugou froze, staring at you like you’d just short-circuited his brain. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to laugh at how utterly Bakugou this whole situation was. “I said yes, Bakugou. I’ll go to homecoming with you.”

For a moment, you swore he forgot how to breathe. His eyes widened, and for once, the ever-brash Bakugou Katsuki looked completely out of his element.

“Yeah, well, of course you are,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “You’d be a damn idiot not to.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the tension finally breaking, leaving a strange warmth in its place. You hadn’t expected Bakugou’s confession to be so… awkward, but somehow, it worked. It was him—loud, explosive, but with surprising care hidden underneath. He simply nodded and turned to leave, but not before aggressively forcing you to take his number so he'd tell you more about when he'd pick you up.

As you packed up your tools for the day, something in your chest fluttered at the thought of going to homecoming with him, of seeing him in a completely different light.

Homecoming day. To say you were underwhelmed would be an understatement. The whole thing had disaster written all over it. In fact..

Homecoming night didn’t go as planned.

First, Bakugou showed up at your door 20 minutes late, looking like he had just gotten into a fight with a swarm of angry bees. His hair was more tousled than usual, and there was a scowl plastered on his face as if the idea of going to Homecoming was physically painful for him. He blamed his 'Old Hag' (which you learn is how he addresses his Mother. Yikes.) for making him try on 9 billion different suits and, yeah he was making excuses, but you decided to let him pass for this one time.

Second, he refused to say anything the entire walk to the venue, except for the occasional grunt when you tried to make small talk. It was like pulling teeth, trying to get him to open up, but you figured that was just Bakugou being Bakugou.

And third… well, let’s just say the actual event was a disaster.

He radiated 'Debbie downer' energy, basically insulted everyone, and said they all looked 'ass', and well..just about everything wasn't up to his standards. Did he expect to be attending a grand ball? With him, you genuinely would never know.

Oh, and the highlight of his complaints? How the music sucked. Every song that played was something Bakugou clearly hated, and he made sure you knew it.

“This crap again? Can’t they play somethin’ decent?”

"Ugh, another slow song? Gimme a break."

"Whoever picked this shit deserves to get punched in the face."

You were trying to hold back your laughter. “It's homecoming, not your personal concert.”

And of course, there was the awkwardness of people constantly staring. Bakugou had his own fan club, and seeing him with you sparked more than a few curious glances. But Bakugou didn’t care.

At one point, though, it got to be too much. You both ended up outside, sitting on the steps in the cool night air, away from the noise and the stares. You kicked off your uncomfortable heels, stretching your feet with a groan.

“Well, this sucks,” you muttered, looking over at him. “You’re right. Homecoming’s kind of lame.”

Bakugou huffed, leaning back on his elbows, his eyes focused on the night sky. “Told you. These things are pointless.”

"So then, why'd you ask me?" Bakugou clicked his tongue, turning his head slightly like he couldn’t believe you were asking something so obvious. “Who the hell else would I take?” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Besides… you fix my stuff. Least I can do is take you out, right?”

You laughed softly, and for a moment, everything felt easy. Comfortable, even. Sitting there next to Bakugou, the frustration and awkwardness of the night began to melt away. He didn’t say anything, but the tension between you had shifted. It wasn’t bad. It was just…different.

Suddenly, Bakugou spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “Why didn’t you ask me to be your model?”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, turning to face him. “Huh?”

“For your midterm project,” he continued, not looking at you. “You picked that Shinsou guy. Why not me?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure why it mattered so much. “I didn’t think you’d want to. You’re…you know, busy.”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened at the bluntness. Bakugou turned his head, finally meeting your gaze, his red eyes sharp. “I would’ve done it. You didn’t even ask.”

"But I saw you turning everyone down."

"That's 'cause I don't like everyone."

You stared at him, speechless. For someone who usually had no problem speaking his mind, this was… different. Vulnerable, almost. Like he was actually bothered by the fact that you hadn’t chosen him. Also, wait. Does that mean he might like you? [yes, you IDIOT.]

“I didn’t know you’d care,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

Bakugou’s eyes flickered, and for the first time that night, his usual scowl softened just a little. “Of course I care, dumbass. I asked you and you just said 'Cool' and that fucking..sucked.”

There was a pause. Neither of you moved, the weight of his words hanging between you. And then, before you could stop yourself, you smiled.

“You coulda just asked like a normal person,” you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow. "You really are the worst."

He scoffed, the tension breaking. “Yeah, well, you’re not much better.”

Another beat of silence. But this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something else. Something lighter.

“You wanna get out of here?” Bakugou asked suddenly, pushing himself to his feet.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, and miss the rest of this magical evening?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, offering you his hand to help you up. “Let’s go.”

You took his hand, warmth spreading through you as his grip tightened around yours. Maybe this wasn’t the perfect night, but for some reason, with Bakugou by your side, it didn’t feel like a disaster anymore. It felt like…something else. Something better.

As you walked away from the noise of the dance, his hand still holding yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad night after all.

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